It began, as these stories often do, with coworkers taking a chance to set off as strangers, only to become lifelong friends.
In 2003, a school librarian announced to her colleagues that she knew someone with a place in Ruidoso, New Mexico, that was available to rent for about a week. A few weeks later, five ladies departed, even though none of them knew each other well. The cadre of adventurous coworkers was the librarian (Carolyn Bradley), the counselor (Sandy Crawford), a 1st-grade teacher (Dora Estella Alvarado), a 2nd-grade teacher (Yvonne Jagge), and, appropriately, a 3rd-grade teacher (Jill Rath), too.
These were the years before travel influencers, “van life” vloggers, GPS, Yelp, and all the other travel tech we have today. We were armed only with maps, a few internet searches, and printouts when we set out on our exciting journey. Drivers rotated with riders between two vans that were packed with our gear as we caravanned out to New Mexico. It seemed that each of us had her own interests along the way, and we eagerly shared factoids about towns and cities as we rolled along.
We didn’t make it far before we pulled into a rest stop just outside of town for a breakfast taco roundtable picnic, where we established some ground rules for the trip.
- Autonomy is allowed. Each person is free to choose to participate (or not) in any particular “field trip” or activity. There would be no judgment, and we would share our stories and pictures freely afterwards.
- Confidentiality is guaranteed. Anything shared during the trip would not be shared with anyone outside our group without prior consent.
- Leave work at home. Out of respect for our colleagues, we would not discuss any work-related situations.
With that firm foundation, our ecumenical group prayed for our safety and for the safety of the loved ones we were leaving behind. And then, it was back on the road.
We didn’t realize it then, but that stop would be the first of many in our years of adventures. Somewhere between learning about extraterrestrials in Roswell, New Mexico, meeting Clydesdales in Booneville, Missouri, and herding hermit crabs on South Padre Island, we began referring to ourselves as the “Ya-Yas” in honor of that spirited group of women from the novel Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells. In them, we saw ourselves: energetic, complex, adventurous, and lifelong friends.
Through it all, we discovered a few criteria that can make or break any trip—whether you’re inseparable family members, long-time companions, or blossoming friends like we were.
Shared Responsibilities
Food is an important detail on any trip. Sometimes it involves trying out a local establishment. Other times, it requires cooking in a rental home. It even shows up in snacks between stops. Managing all of that can be exhausting when it falls to one person, no matter how much of a foodie they may be, so we decided we would all take part. We brought our favorite snacks to share. We planned menus together and assigned cooking and “KP” duty roles. Budgets were made, expenses were logged, and we settled up each night.
On the road, no one person had to do it all either. We made sure drivers were assisted by a co-pilot whose responsibilities included keeping an extra eye on the gas gauge and speedometer. This policy definitely reduced the stress of driving, even if it wasn’t foolproof, as evidenced by the one traffic stop and a near-empty tank. We were rescued by a lovely family who followed us to ensure we made it to the gas station. However, our encounter with a police officer wasn’t quite as endearing.
Vulnerability
Another vital key to the longevity of our travels has been our willingness to be vulnerable. True bonding happened as we wound through the Sacramento Mountains on our way to the Monjeau Lookout in New Mexico. This is when we discovered that two of our companions had motion sickness and that we needed a driver with nerves of steel. Another day, we got turned around on a hike to Bonita Lake. One family helped us find the trailhead, and another offered to escort us and invited us to join their picnic. Even though only two members of our group spoke Spanish, the kindness and generosity of those families needed no translation. That day taught us that joy is fuller when shared with others.
We experienced this again during a trip to the Kerrville area a couple of years ago. One of our circle was losing her sight, but she didn’t want to miss out. So she trusted us to navigate her down a treacherous trail to the river. The macular degeneration didn’t stop her from relishing the cool water of the Guadalupe River, or from laughing as we described to her the oddities of Stonehenge II and replica Easter Island heads at The Hill Country Arts Foundation park. Through these moments of vulnerability, we grew roots of friendship that run deep enough to withstand any hardship.
Adaptability
Those roots help us face hardship together, in part, by making us adaptable. Our desire to travel over the years has never waned, but family obligations often hindered travel outside of Texas. Aging parents, new grandbabies, and extended family needs—not to mention our own physical challenges and health—have made traveling within the state an ideal option for all. For example, we toured the Painted Churches around Schulenburg on one trip because we are receptive to each other’s interests, and we’re all educators who love to learn. We enjoyed exploring the history of the German and Czech communities between San Antonio and Houston.
When the COVID-19 pandemic kept us away from each other, we stayed in touch throughout. As soon as we were able to, we celebrated a “Ya-ya” reunion at a restaurant at the RIM. Even with that simple trip, it felt as though we’d never been apart. And when one of the Ya-Yas faced family health crises, we took our trip to her. We set off to Edinburg, loaded up with encouragement for our friend, and excited for the food and art you can only find in the RGV. But most of all, we were excited to relish the time together and celebrate our friendship.
Laughter
No matter where we’ve been, we’ve always taken laughter along. It felt like we laughed for the entire day as we warped through time along the Billy the Kid Trail in New Mexico—the 1870s in Lincoln, the 1950s hunting for the perfect tribute for Jill’s husband at Smokey Bear Historical Park, or venturing through several generations via the art of the Hurd La Rinconada Gallery in San Patricio.
It was in this laughter that we realized how well our personalities fit together, the 20-year age difference between the oldest and youngest notwithstanding. Differences between cultural backgrounds, spiritual traditions, and life experiences took a back seat to our shared sense of humor. We learned quickly that relationships grow deep when you travel with people you trust and can laugh with.
We “Ya-Yas” may not work together anymore, but the bonds between us continue to grow. Sharing joys and sorrows, being willing to cry and laugh together, keeps us connected no matter where we find ourselves.
Looking back on that first trip, it’s interesting to think about the road of friendship that was laid out before us, even though we didn’t know it yet. We thought of ourselves as merely acquaintances, but the opportunity for a lifetime of camaraderie was right there. Maybe that’s true for all of us, with an acquaintance we’ve known forever or each new person we meet. Maybe there actually aren’t any strangers in life at all. Maybe the road to lasting friendship is available to everyone and is paved with compassion, vulnerability, open-heartedness, and a whole lot of laughter.
Maybe there actually aren’t any strangers in life at all. Maybe the road to lasting friendship is available to everyone and is paved with compassion, vulnerability, open-heartedness, and a whole lot of laughter.