What follows is a thorough, categorical examination of what I took with me to Tijuana when I traveled there on a mission trip with members of the Burlingame Presbyterian church this past July. I wrote this mostly for my own benefit, in order to pack smarter next time I travel, to Tijuana or to anywhere. Writing this out, which I did on the first full day I was back at home, also serves as a trip debriefing. It’s a different way for me to record an account of the trip, albeit in a more straightforward and less lyrical style than what I wrote while I was actually in Mexico, which can be found here and here.
° Lip Balm. I used it once, the first day. It never occurred to me thereafter.
° Mechanical pencil. Yes, for sudoku on the flights there and back.
° Four pens. Two too many—if I am really trying to cut down next year.
° Two pairs of sunglasses. Yes and yes. Used both. One I kept in my fanny pack and used for driving, kept them relatively clean. The other I kept with my tools and streaked them with sweat, dirt and sunscreen.
° Eyeglasses. One pair. For writing, reading and for looking at my phone. What I could have used was a so-called microfiber cloth to wipe down mis gafas.
° Books. I brought three books of poetry. At some point I read from them all. I had: Bill Luoma’s Works and Days, David Berman’s Actual Air and Kenneth Rexroth’s translational work, 100 Poems from the Chinese. I did only a spot or two of reading in my tent but having these books with me lends me comfort. I read—sometimes out loud—in my hotel room in San Diego. And on the plane to and fro. I also had the aforementioned sudoku book, which I’ve had for over a decade, delving into almost exclusively en aviones.
° Notebooks. I brought two, including the one in which now yo escribo: a Miquelrius, 90-weight paper, spiral-bound. Great notebook. Bought it February 5 in New Orleans. I filled roughly 30% of it with TJ writings. I did not necessarily need a second notebook, though I did write in it, and read from it, in San Diego.
The second notebook is by FRINGE. It was a gift from my mother-in-law Karin, who had a cache of notebooks. I’ve written a poem about this FRINGE notebook. I had my doubts initially—almost chucked it—but then I realized what the problem was: the notebook had too many pages. It wasn’t clearing through the spiral when I turned a page. I tore out 15% of the pages and it’s a whole lot better. It’s become kind of a cult favorite in my little notebook world.
° Bags within Bags. I brought all kinds of bags. Chiefly my large backpacking backpack which, when filled, was gargantuan and heavy. Next I had my canvas, zippered ‘PATMOS, GREECE’ bag. It says that in blue ink, and there’s a picture of a sailing ship, like what the argonauts sailed in. Then I had my fanny pack, which I hardly leave home without. I needed all of these and more. The PATMOS bag became my pillow, stuffed with clothes. I also carried many more bags, of various sizes, to keep me organized. They did help! Even within my fanny pack I kept a flannel bag that came with a pair of shoes I bought. I kept cash and pesos and my passport in it. More on bags later.
° Phone charging cord and plug. I used both. The cord I shared in the minivan though I seldom used it myself. Mike was using it. He thought it might be defective because despite having his phone plugged into to a USB port with my cord it wasn’t really charging. I didn’t think the cord could be bad because I was using it to charge my phone overnight by way of a portable battery pack in my tent (more on that later). On our drive back to the border I tried to charge my phone from the USB port in the front of the van, the same one Mike was trying to charge from. Indeed the charge from that USB port was really, really gradual. So maybe the port was bad.
What I wish I would’ve brought was a so-called “cigarette lighter” charger. Midway to the back of the van was a standard electrical outlet as well as a cigarette lighter-style charging port. I realized a few days in that I could hit a button in the console labeled “115V power” which made the socket live. It provided a good charge once we started using it.
° Credit Card. Necessary. For the hotel in San Diego on Friday night. And I used it to buy burritos in San Diego Friday afternoon. Then I charged $40 at the airport because I forgot to check in for my flight back when the 24-hour window opened. I realized my omission Saturday morning but by that point my boarding assignment was a lowly C-22. After paying up at the Southwest full-service counter I had secured A-12, which ultimately meant I had a window seat on an exit row. I think it was worth it. It also meant I got on the plane a little earlier, which isn’t usually a good thing but the terminal or sub-terminal I was in at the San Diego airport was small, circular, crowded, loud and borderline chaotic.
° Cash. I have $60 left. I brought about $180. I used cash for McDonald’s, beer, liquor and for breakfast at Lucky’s Saturday morning. I left a $10 room tip and tipped the hotel’s airport shuttle driver $4.
° Pesos. I paid for tres personas usar el baño a la garita. Then I paid in pesos for Tom and Sabrina’s snacks. I was glad I had the pesos. I used only eighty pesos, roughly four U.S. dollars. I left two peso coins along with the room tip, equivalent to a dime.
We did pass through a toll booth on our way to Hacienda Camp from the border. But for some reason no one was paying the toll—or no one was collecting it, or both. There was some sort of protest by… the toll booth collectors themselves? It was a strange scene. There were people out in front of the toll booths holding signs and holding out buckets, for donations I guess. We just drove on through.
Oh, there was one other peso-relevant moment. On the way back to camp on the last work day a guy washed and squeegeed the windshield of the van. I was driving. We were stopped at a light, waiting to turn right into Ojo de Agua. He used what looked to be diluted dish detergent from an old dish detergent bottle. The windshield was pretty dusty. My pesos were in my bag, not within immediate reach. No one had a dollar bill at the ready so I stiffed him. He did a good job. I felt bad.
° Headphones (w/ case). I brought the Bose noise-canceling headphones I fortuitously found on the ground in St Louis last year. I used them a bit in my tent, on one night possibly falling asleep with at least one bud in my ear. They’re essential on the plane.
° Passport. The trip doesn’t happen without it. Mine expires in 2023. Once again no stamp by U.S. Customs and Border Patrol upon re-entering the U.S.
° Driver’s License. The folks at the car rental branch scan all the driver IDs. Otherwise I could’ve relied on my passport as my ID in the airport. As for being a driver, I thought of something last night as I began to replay the trip in my head. I sat in the San Diego airport for two hours after I flew in, as I waited to rendezvous with the group. It was likely I would drive in Tijuana so I was going to have to find my way over to the rental branch at some point (same place as last year, not at the airport but not far away). I should have just gone over there when I landed. When I did finally get over there on Sunday morning a bunch of the group was already there, chatting and hanging out. That was the way to do it. Next year.
° Pill Mix. I took 5-10 ibuprofen. The sun gave me headaches. That plus a challenged sleeping arrangement. I took all of the simethicone I had (anti-gas). I took one allergy pill and a couple of decongestants. I think my sinuses were a bit irritated by the haze—smaze—but overall there was less trash-fire-scent and less smaze in the air than in 2018. I took two or three antacids. If the menu is lacking it is in the way of leafy greens. Dr Mark was drinking some sort of fiber-rich seed slurry every morning. I might try to bring something along those lines next time. Oh, I also took a couple of headache pills in San Diego on Saturday morning because all bottle fell out.
° Neck Pillow. I used it. I put it on top of the PATMOS bag or sometimes I’d put it between my knees for sleeping on my side. One time I just clutched it in my arms as I was falling asleep.
° Hand sanitizer. I took two bottles, one larger than the other. My larger bottle was scooped up at the work site at the end of the first or second day. I had used it and left it out for communal use. I was down by grandma’s house washing tools and someone grabbed all the miscellaneous items left out up top. I asked after it, and looked a few places, but I never saw the bottle again. I still have the little bottle I took. I’d bring two bottles again: keeping one just outside my tent , another in my tools bag for use at the work site.
° Lighter. Used to open two bottles of beer in San Diego, though I could’ve used my flip-flop instead.
° Nalgenes. I took two and used them both. I have carabiners on both. I used the carabiners extensively, to hook a Nalgene to one of the belt loops on my shorts or my pants. I was also hooking a Nalgene onto a metal ring down inside that hot dog cart at the work site.
Though the Nalgenes are lightweight I really do need to bring my vacuum-sealed thermos next year. In the morning I need to pack it with ice and drink from that on occasion during the work day, when I need the cold liquid. The air-temp water and Gatorade couldn’t refresh me after a point. We had ice at the site but it was either still back in one of the vans (I could have gone to get it) or toward mid-day the ice would have been mostly used up, or what was left was mostly melted. It will be worth the extra weight to have a thermos that can keep me cool.
° Metal cup, metal plate, bamboo utensil. This was my sustainable dinnerware/ kit. I’m glad I brought them. I got at least a couple of comments in support. There weren’t any styrofoam plates at camp this year. The plates were paper but I was still glad to have the lightweight metal plate.
The metal cup helped me avoid using styrofoam cups for morning coffee. It also served as my cereal bowl. So what if there’s a little coffee in there? I used it as a cup for ice-cold water with dinner. I get a lot of satisfaction using this cup in a variety of ways in all sorts of different contexts.
I figure I avoided using and then quickly trashing 30 pieces of plastic silverware by virtue of my bamboo spork. The plastic silverware is pretty useless anyway: flimsy fork, narrow spoon. I’d bring the bamboo utensil again, or even a real metal fork and spoon. Why not?
What I’d add to this kit next time is half a travel-shampoo container full of Dawn (which I’d dilute en Mexico) and a small square of scouring pad. There is already a washstand right next to the mess tent: two sinks with lightly running water. I was using the washstand to clean my ware with a paper towel but a little soap and an abrasive pad would take this kit to the next level.
° Bar soaps. I took a small square tin, secured by a rubber band, with pieces of bar shampoo, bar face wash and bar soap. This worked just fine. I also used these soaps for the two showers I took in San Diego, electing to pocket the two sample-size bars of soap on offer in the room. I like to take these packaged hotel bars of soap camping, sometimes leaving them in a campground’s bathroom where there is not always soap available.
Next year I want to bring an extra bar or shard of soap to stash near the water spigot that’s back by the row of baños. There’s a big tun of water back there, and sure I can “rinse” my hands under that spigot but I didn’t see any soap back there. I was either using hand sani or waiting to wash my hands at the wash station set up next to our tents.
° Power Bars. I took two but didn’t eat them. Which is fine—they’re more of an emergency item.
° Long-sleeved t-shirt, w/ left breast pocket. Yes, I used this, just a bit at camp but I wore it back on the plane from San Diego.
° Linen pants. Never wore them. I wore them a lot at camp in 2018, and then to Coronado Island last year on the day we left camp and crossed over. This year not at all.
° Collared short-sleeve shirt. I wore this on the plane ride from Saint Louis to San Diego. I was still wearing it as we set up our tents upon arriving at camp on Sunday. It was well-worn after that long day of travel but I put it on again one night at camp.
° Heavy long-sleeved shirt. I wore this exact garment every night in camp last year, craving it when the sun fell behind the mountains. This year I never even thought about donning it. It never got chilly. The overnight lows were steadily higher than in 2018. Mid-to-upper sixties this year. If not the low seventies.
° Shorts. I had one pair, wore them every day. On both plane rides. Every night in camp.
° Baseball hat. I took my Cayucos, CA hat, which I think Star and Graham bought for me way back when. Then I left it in my brother’s car when I flew out and drove from LA to Saint Louis with him in August 2015. I thought it was lost. Last summer I saw it in his car. In June I noticed it in his old bedroom at my parents’ place in Belleville, IL. I snagged it. It’s my best hat. In Tijuana I wore it regularly while in camp, often backwards.
° Paracord. I took a 10′ length of it, one end bedazzled by carabiner. I didn’t use it at all. In 2018 I strung up a length of cord and used it as a clothesline upon which to hang wet or dirty clothes. But that was in the big tent Graham and I were in last year—his tent. In my tiny tent this year I couldn’t have strung a length of cord without it being in the way. Sure, I could have run the line from a van mirror to the pasture fence but that would eventually have gotten someone clotheslined or worse.
° Magnets. I brought four of the quarter-sized, one-eighth-inch thick rare earth magnets. I used them to hang or affix my trunks and towel to one of the vans to dry off. I felt pretty clever. It worked. I could’ve used a couple more but I’ll take at least four again next year. In the six o’clock evening sun my wet trunks and towel, hung this way, dried out completely in 2-3 hours.
° Bags continued. I brought each of two sturdy bags B and I got when we bought these tiny, lightweight camping chairs at REI. They’re the bags the chairs, when folded, fit into. In this case I used them to help me group things, either as a bag within a bag, or just as a bag inside of my tent. Next year, I might bring one of the actual chairs, too.
° Headlamp. Essential. I used the red light a lot, to keep from blasting people with the regular white light. I had the headlamp going in the early morning as well as at night. I used it to write by. I brought six batteries: three AAA rechargeables (freshly charged of course) and three alkaline AAAs, just in case.
° Bags continued. I also brought one of those small, silky grey “sunglass protector” bags. Now that I think of it, I could’ve used this bag to wipe off my glasses—there is a tag on the bag telling me to use it for just that purpose. I was using it to store my extra batteries. I might’ve had something else in there, too. Now I can’t recall.
° Towels. I had two half-towels. And one washcloth. I needed them all. The washcloth has the Saint Louis Blues hockey team logo on it. It must’ve been a handout at a game. Twenty years ago? Twenty-five? I kept it in my back pocket at the work site and used it to wipe sweat (and sunscreen) off my face. It was great for that. Then on some days I had one of the half-towels in my tools bag and on breaks I’d towel down with it or just hang it around my neck to block the sun.
I really could’ve used a bandana for this purpose, as many people did. Frank and Rodrigo come to mind. Tom. I saw people put their bandana under the water spigot, then put it around their neck.
Post-shower I needed both half towels, one to dry and one to lay out on my mat while I flailed and shimmied around trying to change out of wet trunks. To get dry before getting dressed.
° Hankies. Earlier this year I took old, failing boxer shorts and cut them up into roughly rectangular pieces to serve as handkerchiefs. I’m tired of tissue, the dust fibers flying off of them—is it cotton or wood, I don’t even know and right now I don’t care and it doesn’t matter because I was only ever throwing them away. My hankies are soft and washable. I brought three on the trip, only used two. But that reminds me, a cloth napkin, at meals, would be a nice touch.
° Wipes. I took a travel pack of hand ‡ body wipes, the Wet Ones brand, which I’ve utilized over the years. I got them out on Tuesday or Wednesday when someone asked for a wipe. I never saw them again. I’ll surely bring a pack or even two next year. They’re great for after we are done for the day at the site, as a prelude to driving home. To clean my hands, arms, neck. To remove the sunscreen and the sweat, to wipe away the things that make a baseball fly.
° RavPower portable charger. This has been a great mobile phone charger. I’ve had it for a few years and it’s still working well. It’s about three inches by six inches, weighs a couple pounds. I charged it before I left for the trip. I plugged my phone into it at night so my phone was at 100% every morning, seldom falling below 75%. I was switching my phone to airplane mode whenever I wasn’t trying to text, post photos, check the news, look at maps or do maintenance on my fantasy baseball teams. I believe I consumed only about a quarter of the juice stored in the charger.
° Biteguard. A perfect six-for-six wearing it while I slept. I would rinse it from the spigot at our wash station first thing.
° Eye drops. I did not use them.
° DEET wipes. I took two but didn’t use either one. Though I was getting bit. By something. Not sure it was mosquitoes, not exclusively. I didn’t want to use the wipes because I didn’t want the DEET residue on me after I’d showered. Maybe that’s not a good reason.
° Ear plugs. Sorry to say I used them right off the bat, on the first night. At times it was the sound of giggling and grabass that I wanted to shut out. One other night the guards—at least I think it was them—were surprisingly audible late in the night. Mary said, “Somebody had a party and didn’t invite me.” In San Diego I popped them in while I took a nap in the hotel. Why are hotel room doors so loud? Why are they so heavy? Is there no way to soften the thud they make when they slam shut?
° Toothbrush, toothpaste, floss. Yes on all. There was, again, toothpaste available at our group’s wash station—thanks to Cheryl for maintaining the station this year. Assuming wash station toothpaste, I really only need to bring enough to cover me in San Diego.
° Rubbing alcohol. I brought a small container but never used any. It’s more of a first-aid item. I have at times used rubbing alcohol as a deodorant substitute but on this trip I had a stick of deodorant for my underarms. I could leave the rubbing alcohol behind next year. Dr Mark would have any necessary first-aid item in stock, and I had some generic antibacterial gel anyway.
° Work pants and stretchy belt. I had the same pair of work pants down there last year. They’re the right thickness for that kind of work in the heat. The belt, which I purchased in June, was not a good fit because of its stretchiness. The belt would sag when I had my tool pouch (with hammer) attached. I need a good, sturdy belt in that context. I got tar on the pants, inevitable whilst roofing. And I got some tar on the belt, too. No big deal.
° Bags continued. Among my various bags was a sleeping bag bag that I used as a stuff sack for packing clothes compactly. I tried it as a pillow the first night but because it was cylindrical and sort of slick it kept rolling off the camp mat. I didn’t sleep well that first night.
° Rain jacket. I never wore it though we did get rain on Tuesday. Just a little bit at camp. Then a fair bit as we drove to the site and a little more as we drove back from the site early Tuesday evening.
° Trunks. Yes, I wore them every time I took a shower.
° Headband. Didn’t wear it. Mainly because I always had my wide-brimmed floppy hat on. If I had sunscreen for my face that I was confident wouldn’t run and sting my eyes; and, if we had substantial, sustained cloud cover I could switch from hat to headband.
° Work boots. I had no problem with them. They are Carolina brand, U.S. made. I was a little worried because they had chafed on my left achilles when I did some work on a ladder in front of my house in May. But I must have broken them in just enough by the time this trip began. They’re steel-toed. Heavy. My pack would be lighter if I wore them on the plane but that’s something I’d rather not do. I suppose I could make do without the steel toe.
° Flip flops. My footwear of choice at camp, morning or night. I also had my tan, canvas, closed-toe Crox shoes. I wore the canvas shoes on the flights and on my burrito run in San Diego.
° Solar shower. I hate to say it because I love the thing but… I don’t think I need it. I see people just using the large drinking water tubs, sitting under them (there’s a ledge) and opening the spigot, letting that stream fall on them. They’re getting clean-enough that way. It’d be one less thing in my pack.
I didn’t even want the water to’ve been warmed in the sun during the day. The way it works is you fill the solar shower after your prior night’s shower and leave it sitting out on a tarp near the showers. It sits there in the sun all day and by the time you’re back from the building site the water in the solar shower is quite warm. Which is great except that what I wanted when I showered was some cool water.
My shower specifically seems a little ostentatious. No one else uses a solar shower that pressurizes (it has a pump). It’s a great solar shower but I’ve got to cut something from my list. Re-packing it at camp, on our final night there, takes five or ten minutes, if I really try to get the water out. Those minutes on the final night are few to be found.
° Sleeping bag. My usual bag. It packs up alright. I slept on it or half in it most nights. It now carries a tar smudge, with pride.
° Gloves. Cowhide, XL, yellow-brown, reinforced palm. Comfortable. Sweat-stained.
° Camp mat. My wife’s. Mine is wider and longer, too bulky to pack and fly with. I was happy with hers, there’s enough cushion in it. I feared it’d be dirtier after five nights of dust and sweat and shimmy-changes.
° Tent and stakes. I won’t take my little Eureka Spitfire backpacking tent again. It wasn’t big enough. I cramped myself unnecessarily. It would’ve been nice to have a tarp or sheeting under it. Years ago I made my own custom footprint for it but didn’t bring that because of space restrictions.
Maybe what I need more than anything is a big-ole bodybag duffel. So I can put my larger tent in there. And so I am not carrying everything on my back.
I took ten stakes. Used eight. I like my stakes, most are the red Groundhogs. I’ve never bent one. Not at Farm, with its rocky soil. Nor at Hacienda Camp on its brick-hard playa. But… if Frank is going to bring that bucket of large nail stakes I don’t need to bring mine. Just a thought. I did use Frank’s crowbar to pry my stakes out of the ground Friday morning. It’s the perfect tool. Something to think about for Farm.
° String for sunglasses. I needed this on the float I did in May, on an unforgiving river where I lost a pair of sunglasses whilst tipping my kayak. I brought it to TJ, used it the first day but not thereafter. The problem is that this sunglass string gets tangled in my floppy hat’s under-chin string.
° Hammer. A week before the trip I went into the Orscheln Farm & Home in Washington, MO with a craving for new tools. I purchased a 22 oz. monster framing hammer. Rough, gridded head. Magnetic nail holder/starter on the top. Now with some tar on the handle and neck. It’s an upgrade. Great for nailing bird blocks, walking trim or even for pounding roofing nails on the actual roof. That said, there are parts of the Amor house construction process where a smaller hammer is ideal: for instance, when tacking roofing nails into the sides of the house as part of the prep for stretching and wrapping the house in chicken wire.
° Nail pouch/utility belt. I like it. Other people have a wider belt with separate pouches. Mine is just a single, tiered piece of leather with four pockets and a hammer loop. Two pencil slots. Good enough. Not quite intentionally I brought back a handful of nails. At least one of each of our three varieties. I was trying at times to make sure I had some of each variety of nails stocked—separately—in the pockets of my belt. It is common to hear someone ask for a particular kind of nail. I wanted to have them ready.
° Bags continued. B leant me her little Hobo bag. Picture of a hobo with a bag on a stick over his shoulder. I used it as a bag within a bag, placing it in my tools bag. It held first aid items and, randomly, a quarter.
° Band-aids. I took nine, used two. To cover my hammered left thumb. I put antibacterial gel on it the day after, when I changed from the first to the second bandage before doing stucco.
° Tweezers. I didn’t use them but I will take them again.
° Square. I didn’t use it much because I didn’t frame any of the wall or roof sections. I’m not sure I’ll bring it next year but if I end up framing on the first day I’ll have wished I had my own square.
° Saw. I only made a couple of cuts. It’s been a great little saw but there are plenty of saws lying around on site. I won’t bring it next year.
° Sunscreen. I brought Banana Boat “simply protect” sport sunscreen. SPF 50+. It says it has high resistance versus sweat. I wasn’t very happy with it though. It was too thin and runny. I had some “regular” (orange bottle, blue cap) Banana Boat sport sunscreen last year that was thicker, and which I was able to put on my face without it running once I started to sweat. This “simply protect” was simply useless at protecting my face because I had to wipe it off to keep my eyes from stinging.
° Tape measure. Mine is a 25-footer. We need a 30-footer to square the pad frame, the wall sections, and the roofing panels. So I’m either getting a 30′ tape measure for next year’s trip or I’m not bringing one at all.
° Utility knife. It’s a good one but I never used it. I won’t bring one next time. It’s a pound or two at least. I’ll put it back in the boot of the Subaru where it normally resides.
° Red lead carpenter pencil. There were odd & end pieces of wood at the second site. Some marked, some not. I measured and marked as many as I could get my hands on. I like the red lead, how it looks on the wood, as a number.
° Wire cutters. I did use these. First to cut the plastic-encased wire ring that bound the two keys to the minivan together. We had two keys but they were conjoined by this thick wire loop. I didn’t see what the point of having two keys was if those two keys had to be in the same exact spot at the same time. So I cut the wire ring and thus had my own key to the minivan, meaning I could get into the minivan as needed, which was often because I was keeping some things in the minivan in lieu of keeping them in my little tent. My work boots, for instance.
I did get my wire cutters out on-site for chicken wire work at the first site. The kind I have are perfect for making precise snips of the wire.
° Bags continued. I also borrowed my wife’s colorfully patterned ‘Le Sport Sac’ over-the-shoulder bag to carry my tools in. It might not be the exact make and model of bag I’d go online and opt for out of all the options out there in the world. But of the bags we had on hand in the house it was the right size and seemed sturdy. So I went with it.
One morning at the first site, as we were gathered around the trunk of the van, getting our tools out (and on) Mike M seized upon the colorful Sport Sac, held it up and said, “I hope this bag doesn’t belong to anybody in this van.” I had to laugh but then I defended the bag and said I’d use it again because form follows function.
° Socks. I brought four pairs, for work days. One pair I used twice because I had left them hung over the back seat of the van one night. The next morning I was running a little behind—too much chatting at breakfast—and as I went to the van to get my work boots I saw the socks there and just put them back on.
° Underwear. I brought seven pairs. Five briefs, two boxers. I wore all of them, none more than once.
° T-shirts. I brought five. I wore four. The four I wore are all crew-necked with a front pocket. I want that front pocket on the site, mainly as a repository for sunglasses.
The Writing of John B. Randall 