On the Gulf Coast of Texas, yeehaw!

It wasn’t too long after Phoenix got his cast off that he went officially mobile.  Thankfully, we had planned ahead and got the bus baby-proofed, because once he started army-crawling, nothing was safe!

Here it is, our latest Vlog, on our baby-proofing measures in our Big Blue Bus, with a bit of added (very cute!) footage on Phoenix learning to go mobile!

OK, and now, without further ado, check out our bus renovations!

CLICK HERE FOR VLOG!!!

Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected to pass an entire season in the Appalachian Mountains, yet here we are. The leaves do not lie. We’ve spent our summer in the Appalachians. And it was just as transformative as these leaves.

The decision to spend our summer in the Appalachians was purely practical. We were in Atlantic Canada with the goal of heading toward Mexico for the winter. The Appalachians were just sort of on the way. We could have followed the coast, but the equation of summer heat and humidity with a baby in a non-air-conditioned bus didn’t ad up.

I’d love to say the mountains were beckoning us (I could even break out in song – “the hills are alive with the sound of music”), but it wouldn’t be true. The Appalachians were simply the best option when you’ve spent a winter in Canada (who does that?) and need to head south in the heat of the summer.

As such, we had very few expectations of our summer in the mountains. We hoped to hike a bit, enjoy some nature, and stay cool. Most importantly, we wanted to get adjusted to life in our bus with a baby – no small feat.

As I shared on the blog, I was pretty anxious about moving into the bus with Phoenix. As expected, those early weeks were challenging, trying to fit life with a baby into a tiny space while dealing with the summer heat and humidity of the Northeastern US. In those moments, the Appalachians took on the lure of the promised land, and as we inched our way closer and closer (which seemed to take forever!), I could only pray they would provide us the salvation I so desperately needed.

Shenandoah National Park delivered that salvation. As we wound our way up the narrow sea of mountains, the temperature dropped to more comfortable digits. Despite being under a canopy of dense forest, we found a campsite at Big Meadows that gave our solar panels access to sunlight. There was a laundromat in the campground (yippee!) and a [meager] cell service on the edge of the cliff at the other end of the campground. We had everything we needed to set up camp.

Big Meadows Campground at Shenandoah NP.

So we set up camp we did. For a month. (I talk about this in my Vlog on Shenandoah). The only times we moved the bus were the couple of times we went to the nearest town to do groceries (each time I stuffed our bus silly with melons and squashes and potatoes to tie us over once the more perishable produce was gone) and a forced campground change fifteen days in.

It wasn’t that Shenandoah National Park was particularly amazing. Yes, the wildlife was abundant, and we thoroughly enjoyed having black bears and deer in the campground. Yes, it was great to be in nature, with fresh air, starry evenings, and the sounds of crickets rather than traffic. And yes, it was awesome to hike small sections of the epic Appalachian Trail, crossing smelly but inspiring thru-hikers (I even lent one of them my hair dryer one evening and got to hear real-life stories from the trail!)

Bears in the campground!

And these deer were our friends for, like, two whole weeks!

Getting up close with the wildlife.

Don’t worry, we kept Phoenix far away from these little babies!

The trail marking for the infamous Appalachian Trail.

But it was no Grand Canyon. Shenandoah was created with the intention of offering a national park to easterners as outstanding as all those out west. The creators purchased a narrow tract of land from mountain families (who had logged and farmed here for generations), let the land return to its wild state, and built a scenic road – called Skyline Drive – down the center of the park.

To this day, Skyline Drive is the beating heart of the park. But in our opinion, the views it offered were just average.  It’s always nice looking out from atop a mountain, but at Shenandoah, there is often a lot of haze (the park being so close to all those big coastal cities), and the view is mostly of towns and farmland rather than wilderness.

A pretty typical view from a Skyline Drive overlook.

The visibility is often poor, and the views are mostly over towns and farmland.

Also, the weather – though mercifully cooler – was still not ideal. The region had experienced its rainiest summer in years, and there were times where we were stuck in the bus all day. The rain would often come down sideways, meaning that even the space under the awning was off-limits. And between the storms, the no-see-ems were so bad they were drawing blood from my baby boy! While we were definitely grateful to have upgraded from Totoyaya (how would we have entertained Phoenix in that?), after the 6^th day of non-stop rain (and the 3^rd day of using ice to keep our perishables cold because we had no juice in the solar batteries to power our fridge anymore!), I began to wonder if Shenandoah had offered us salvation at all.

Grateful we had Big Blue instead of Totoyaya in this rain!

On a positive note, Bruno used all the rain to rig a device that refilled our water tank without having to move the bus! :)

So why did we stay an entire month, you may ask. At the time, we thought it was an issue of timing – we needed a place to park ourselves for awhile and get settled into our new home, and Shenandoah appeared at the right time. With foresight, though, I now realize it was more than that. As our Shenandoah days rolled into weeks, I felt my stress begin to ease up as we settled into our space and routine. Hiking helped. Animal-watching helped. And having the space to do nothing that only nature provides helped a lot.

And so, standing still, surrounded by nature, I was finally able to relax into motherhood. It had taken over five months.

Hiking. Sort of.

Wildlife. Sort of. :)

Relaxing into motherhood.

I think Bruno could have continued doing a whole lot of nothing for many more weeks, but eventually, my nomadic side kicked in. We’d hiked all the nearby trails, visited the Visitor’s Center exhibits, and driven up and down Skyline Drive more than once. I needed a change of neighborhoods. Plus, our list of baby-related bus tweaks was piling up. It was time to get to a city.

Bruno and I pulled out a map one evening. We can reach Asheville via the Interstate, I said, or we can take the scenic mountain view. In our pre-baby lives, this would have been a no-brainer, but now I wasn’t sure what Bruno would want to do. I wasn’t even quite sure what I wanted – to get to our destination quickly or make a trip out of the journey?

When Bruno replied that we should take the scenic route, bien sûr, I felt relief. I guess it’s what I’d wanted, too. Perhaps having a baby hadn’t changed our travel style as much as I’d been feeling since we’d hit the road?

Still, I expected our road trip down the Blue Ridge Parkway to take only a few days. I knew little about this byway apart from its name, and the minimal research I’d been able to do had come up with very few camping options.

Welcome to the Blue Ridge Parkway, one of America’s most scenic byways!

You can imagine my surprise when I realized that the Blue Ridge Parkway was a national park, too, and one that offered more infrastructure, cultural interest, and beautiful views than Shenandoah! What was meant to be a quick transit turned into a 3-week slow-travel adventure! (Bruno was grateful we had Phoenix in tow or I’d have made him stop at every overlook and every cultural or historical waypoint along the byway!)

The Blue Ridge Parkway was conceived as a scenic byway that would link Shenandoah NP to Great Smoky Mountains NP (the other National Park that was conceived for easterners to enjoy nature). While Shenandoah is one of the least-visited National Parks, the Blue Ridge Parkway is one of the most visited. But with almost 500 miles of byway, we didn’t feel the crowds (I’m told that most visit in the fall for the colorful foliage) and we had campgrounds almost entirely to ourselves

The campgrounds. Basic, yes, but I loved them. There are several of them, interspersed at perfect driving distances along the parkway. I didn’t have to think about researching our next stop or reserving something ahead – we’d just show up at the end of our day’s drive, pick an available spot, and park ourselves there as long as we wanted! We were even given travel pamphlets at the beginning of our road trip that told us what mile marker we’d find each campground and at what elevation it sat – perfect for us, since we were still trying to remain on higher grounds for little Phoenix.

Breakfast at one of the BRP’s campgrounds.

Cultural interest all along the parkway.

Each campground offered something of interest for us, whether it be a hiking trail, a waterfall, a historic mountain cabin or a lake. We stayed at five campgrounds, and I made sure to do one special thing at each of them. My favorite of all was probably the first – Peaks of Otter Campground. I hiked to the top of Sharp Top Mountain all by myself one afternoon. A solo outing, in itself, was an amazing rush, but combine that with the endorphins of an intense hike and the best views I’d seen yet that and it’s little wonder that it was my favorite mini Parkway adventure (sorry Bruno and Phoenix!).

An intense but rewarding hike up to Sharp Top Mountain.

Feeling SO good after this solo hike!

The historic Mabry Mill along the BRP.

Even better than that hike, though, was the Parkway’s cultural link to the region. I’d been missing that in Shenandoah National Park. On the Blue Ridge Parkway, there were cabins describing the ways mountain people used to live, a folk art center, a historic mill, and a music center. We were lucky to arrive at Mabry Mill on a Sunday, the day that local musicians get together for an afternoon jam session, complete with flat foot dancing (which is like tap dancing with clogs). The sun was shining, the quaint, wholesome ambience was perfect, and Phoenix was in a great mood to experience his first ever concert. I brought him right up close to the action, and he was absolutely mesmerized, especially by the dancers! It was a special moment for me as a new mom.

Mountain music and flat foot dancing – you can’t get any more Appalachian than that!

The very talented mountain musicians at Mabry Mill.

Phoenix was absolutely mesmerized by the whole thing, especially the dancers!

We got right up close, and it was so cool!

I hadn’t known how important music is to the people here. We learned about the history of mountain music (which is the original American music and influenced bluegrass, country, blues, and rock ‘n roll!) and saw another afternoon concert at the Blue Ridge Music Center. But it wasn’t until the following day at our campground, when locals camping near us invited us to their impromptu jam session, that I truly saw how music is in the bones of the Appalachian people.

Mountain music at the Blue Ridhe Music Center.

An impromptu mountain music jam session at our campground!

That’s what I loved best about the Blue Ridge Parkway – I got to learn about the Appalachian people. Yes, I was traveling with a baby and so didn’t spend as much time delving into their culture as I might have a year ago, but even scraping the surface felt like a miracle to me after spending the previous seven months in full-time motherhood.

Just as our two-night stay at the Mohonk Mountain House with my Aunt Louise back in June taught me that I can have a relaxing and fun holiday with a baby (surprise!), our summer in the Appalachians taught me a few important lessons about my new life as a mom. Shenandoah National Park gave me the space and time to unwind and settle into life in the bus with a baby, showing me that, as long as we take the time to move slowly through the world, bus life with a baby can work. And driving down the Blue Ridge Parkway showed me that I can still be a tourist – traveling, discovering, learning, and having adventures – with baby in tow, and that each little moment of discovery will be all the more precious because of that baby!

The mountains we’ve called home this summer are changing before our very eyes. As we experience a new side to these mountains, I’m noticing a new side to myself – one that feels rested, hopeful, and confident that life on the road with a baby can work. I’d come to these green mountains hoping for hikes, nature, and cool weather, and in the end received so much more. Maybe the Appalachians had been beckoning me after all.

I don’t think I’ve brought enough diapers or sleepers in our carry-on. We have a 24-hour journey ahead of us that involves planes, trams, trains and cars. Was this explosive start to the trip a foreshadow of what was to come?

Preparing for the Trip

I was really anxious about flying with Phoenix. In his first months of life, we had barely left the house, and when we had, we had found it more complicated than expected. The mass of stuff we had to lug around on outing, the endless pit-stops for nursing and diaper changes, the car-seat and car-ride-related meltdowns… It was just easier to stay home.

Suffice to say, then, that Bruno and I hadn’t had much practice in the travel-with-baby department.

To counter this, we decided to prepare as best we could for the journey. We imagined the most complicated part – getting from the airport to the train station and into the train with baby and luggage. So, even though we were allowed an extra suitcase and carry-on for Phoenix, we opted to bring only what our four hands could carry. That meant two backpacks as carry-on luggage, two rolling suitcases , and a stroller.

Our luggage for the trip.

At least half our luggage was for Phoenix (think 30 reusable cloth diapers!), and our carry-ons were loaded with four extra sleepers (the easiest clothing to put on in a pinch), toys, books, swaddle blankets, two baby carriers, and 12 disposable diapers for the flight. I was very happy Phoenix is a breastfed baby, as we didn’t need to calculate the amount of formula we’d need for the journey – it was already enough trouble to calculate the amount of diapers and clothing changes (and, as the scenario above illustrates, I underestimated in both cases).

Phoenix had never been in a stroller, and he is the type of baby who needs a bit of time to warm up to something new, we knew we didn’t want his first time in the stroller to be at the airport. When we received it, we wheeled him around my parents’ home, and took him out as soon as he fussed. The next day, we went for a walk outside (I ended up holding him for about half that walk). By the time we left for the airport a few days later, Phoenix had been on 5 walks, had fallen asleep in the stroller once, and looked happy and comfortable inside. Score!

Trying out Phoenix’ new stroller before our trip.

He fell asleep! For Phoenix, that’s big – that means he likes his stroller!

From Canada to France at 3 Months Old

The theme of this section of the trip was boob. Phoenix was so overwhelmed by the noise on the flights and the commotion at the Montreal Airport that, for the entire 7-hour overseas flight, he clung to my breast. The few times I tried passing Phoenix to Bruno so I could rest more comfortably (it was a red-eye) or go to the bathroom, Phoenix cried. We realized he simply needed my reassurance and comfort. I wasn’t comfortable (!) but I was very grateful, again, to be a nursing mama. And at least changing pressure during take off and landing were non-issues for Phoenix!

Near the end of the flight, we were able to place Phoenix in his swaddles on my seat, and Bruno and I took turns walking up and down the aisle while the other sat. We had tried to reserve the bulkhead seats so we could access one of two baby bassinets this flight offered, but another passenger had paid extra to reserve those roomier seats. I was appalled that Air Canada would sell those seats to the highest bidder rather than providing them to parents of infants.

Phoenix, asleep on the airplane.

Phoenix’ first flight, at exactly 3 months old.

Near the end of the flight I gave Phoenix my seat. Too bad we didn’t have the baby bassinet.

From Lyon, we picked up our luggage and took a tram to the train station, where we had to wait a few hours for our train. The train station was even more chaotic than the Montreal airport. There was only one small [paying] bathroom area with no change tables, and there was hardly any seating space to rest or nurse. Luckily, we found a service called S.O.S. Voyageurs run by a few old ladies – they had a change table and allowed us to spend a couple hours in their tiny lounge until our train arrived. Thank goodness, too, because Phoenix had three back-to-back giant poops!

Though getting all our luggage onto the train was a challenge, the train ride was probably the easiest portion of the journey. On some segments, we had an entire cabin to ourselves (the train service in France is on partial strike so the trains were empty!) allowing us to spread out, play, use the stroller, and do diaper-changes on location. On the longest train ride, Phoenix was once again glued to my breast, where he slept and ate quietly almost the entire journey.

Phoenix on his first train.

Passed out a few minutes later.

Overall, the journey had been easier (though still stressful and complicated) than I’d imagined, mainly because Phoenix had been so overwhelmed that he was fairly easy to manage. During the times he wasn’t – when we were on the move in airports and train stations – we were very grateful to have our baby carrier. Phoenix finds refuge and sleep more easily when in his orange wrap than anywhere else, so the baby carrier provided a practical, hands-free reset for him while we dealt with luggage and transit. Our stroller, while useful at times, was more often than not a backpack carrier than anything.

The Return Journey, with a Four-Month Old

You know how they say that, with a baby, as soon as you’ve figured things out, they change? Well, that was the theme of our return journey.

Since Phoenix had been so overwhelmed by plane and travel travel a few weeks earlier, we expected him to, once again, cling to my breast and hover between sleeping and nursing the entire trip.

He did the complete opposite.

First, we took a train north, from Montpellier to Lyon. Phoenix was wide awake and wanting a lot of attention. He refused to nurse and refused to sleep. But he also didn’t want to stay put in our arms or seat. Every few minutes we had to change his position and activity. Talk about a high-maintenance baby!

This is what Phoenix wide awake looks like. Scary!

At least we had first class seats on the train. Lots of space to play with our high-maintenance boy.

At the Lyon airport, Phoenix was also wide awake, and looking less traumatized than in Montreal a month earlier. I’m guilty of wishing that he’d become overwhelmed by the hubbub so that he’d nestle himself into the safety of my breast for the return flight. I’d learned on the train ride that, even though I’m less comfortable with a baby stuck onto me for an entire journey, it’s a lot less work!

My wish was not granted. Phoenix was just as high-maintenance on the plane as he’d been on the train – only this time, the journey was much longer! Thankfully we had managed to secure the bulkhead seats, along with the baby bassinet, for the Lyon-Montreal flight, so I was able to get him down for two little naps (although during turbulence I had to pull him out and hold him). And we also luckily had an empty middle seat which we used to change Phoenix’ position and activity every couple of minutes. So, we were more comfortable and better equipped for this flight.

But I don’t know if it was because Phoenix was older, it was daytime, or if, after all the trains and planes, he was no longer traumatized by them, but he didn’t need refuge on my breast. In fact, he didn’t want to nurse at all, even during takeoff and landing, so I ended up sticking my finger in his mouth so he would suck on something to help him equalize.

Keeping Phoenix occupied on the plane ride home.

Putting Phoenix down for a nap in the plane’s baby bassinet.

Good thing no one was sat in the middle seat, because we sure did take up a lot of space!

He also had several more explosive poops, dirtying three sleepers almost back-to-back (almost always during turbulence or landing, when we couldn’t go change him right away!). Not to gross you out or anything, but during our journey a month earlier, Phoenix had had 8 poops in that 24-hour period, and this time he’d had 4 on a 7-hour flight. Either it’s a coincidence that he had a tummy ache each time (maybe stress-related?) or something about the altitude and air pressure made him a pooping machine!

A Note About Jet Lag

In our experience, Phoenix suffered more from jet lag on the return trip, or the westbound trip. Perhaps it was just the timing of our flights, but by the time we arrived at Bruno’s brother’s place in France around 6pm the following day, Phoenix was so exhausted that he passed out for the night almost immediately. This meant that he acclimatized to the local time fairly quickly. Maybe he was a bit more wakeful at night for a week or so, but he definitely didn’t go through any day and night confusion.

On the way home, we arrived around 5pm local time, and by the time we got Phoenix to bed for the night it was almost midnight in France. Contrary to what some people might think, when a baby goes to sleep late, they don’t sleep in the next morning. Because Phoenix’ internal clock was on France time, he wanted to wake up in the morning… on France time. It didn’t help that we are on the longest days of the year and that our bedroom here doesn’t get dark. It took several days to get Phoenix to sleep in until 6:30am, and as I write these words a week after our return, his nights are wonky.

What We’ve Learned about Travel with a Baby

Jet lag is real. And when your baby has jet lag, yours takes forever to go away.

Pack more diapers and sleepers than you imagine you could ever need. Your baby might have explosive-poop-in-air syndrome, too, and that way you’ll avoid having to blow dry baby clothes in the airport bathroom!

Changing Phoenix’ diaper on the airplane.

That being said, pack as lightly as possible. Unless you are going straight from a car to a plane and to a car. Which I’d recommend.

Strollers are very useful for travel. Baby carriers are even better. Have both.

Babies are heavy. And needy. Four arms are barely enough for one baby.

Airports and train stations are not made for babies. It’s hard to find a quiet, discrete place to nurse, and almost impossible to find a change table. So get comfortable with having your boobs and your baby’s poopy private parts out in the open!

Nursing Phoenix at the departure gate.

Thank God for that baby wrap!!!

Finding an actual changing table is not easy!

If your baby is a good night sleeper but a bad napper, try to book red eye flights. You’ll have more luck keeping baby asleep. A sleeping baby is a low-maintenance baby. An angel, really. God, I love a sleeping baby.

So, Would We Fly With a Baby Again?

The short answer is, of course. We have no choice. We live away from our families, so air travel, train travel, and overseas travel will be a yearly part of our lives.

But, if we didn’t have to travel to see our families? Like, if we lived in the same cities and only needed to take trains and planes for fun? Hell, no!

Maybe that’s jet-lagged Brittany talking. But, honestly, it was exhausting (as if overseas travel isn’t exhausting enough). Phoenix was overwhelmed, I felt terrible for putting him through the trip, and it took us long enough to recover that a fun short holiday would have been marred by jet lag.

The long answer is this: Train travel isn’t so bad. The seats are larger and at least you can walk around the aisles anytime you want. Short flights are fine, too. A fussy, high-maintenance baby isn’t the end of the world for a couple hours. If the trip has to be long, break it up into smaller segments and have an excuse to transit in a new place. If god-forbid, the flight needs to be long, make it a north-south trip so jet lag isn’t a factor. And if, like us, your family lives in a faraway time zone, convince them to fly to you instead!

Mama’s yawning. This is gonna be a looooooong trip.

I like my baby bassinet!