Hello everyone,

It’s been a while since I last shared my adventures with you all, and honestly, I’ve missed it. The past several months have been a whirlwind—a journey of self-discovery, resilience, and a deeper appreciation for the places I’ve traveled and the stories I’ve lived.

I spent a significant amount of time traveling up the length of California, from the sun-soaked shores of San Diego, through the vast deserts, towering redwoods, and misty coastal cliffs, all the way up to Fortuna in Northern California. Each stop along the way carried its own unique beauty and challenges, shaping me in ways I never expected.

San Diego was a dream—waking up to ocean breezes, exploring the hidden gems of La Jolla Cove, and wandering through Balboa Park, where the Spanish-style architecture and vibrant street performers made every visit an experience. But while San Diego is paradise for many, it wasn’t always easy for me. There were days when I wasn’t sure where I’d be sleeping that night, navigating the complexities of living on the road, sometimes with no real place to call home.

As I moved north, Los Angeles became both a challenge and an inspiration. The city’s energy is unmatched—the creative spirit of Venice Beach, the history of Hollywood, the hidden charm of Echo Park. But L.A. is also unforgiving, especially when you don’t have a stable place to rest. Finding a safe parking spot to sleep, making sure I had access to showers, and waking up each morning with an uncertain plan became part of my daily routine. There’s a different kind of survival instinct that kicks in when your only option is to figure things out as you go.

Heading up the coast, I found moments of peace in Big Sur, where the cliffs drop dramatically into the Pacific, and every sunset feels like a painting come to life. Monterey and Carmel-by-the-Sea were magical in their own right, with their fog-laced shorelines and the old-world charm of the coastal villages. Yet, even in these beautiful places, I faced the daily reality of living without the comforts of a traditional home—figuring out where I could park without being bothered, where I could charge my devices, and how to keep my belongings secure.

By the time I reached San Francisco, the city’s mix of cultures and architecture fascinated me. Walking through Chinatown, grabbing a bite at an old-school dim sum spot, and taking in the view from Twin Peaks made me feel alive. But the contrast of wealth and struggle was more evident here than anywhere else. I met so many others on the road—some by choice, some by circumstance—and their stories reminded me how important it is to share my own.

The journey didn’t stop there. I continued through the winding roads of Northern California, making my way through the wine country of Napa, the artsy streets of Eureka, and finally reaching Fortuna, where the redwoods stand like ancient guardians of time. The air smelled different up there—cleaner, crisper, carrying the scent of the earth and the sea. It was a place of quiet reflection, and I found myself thinking about everything I had been through to get there.

But my journey didn’t end in California. As much as I loved the state’s beauty, I knew I had to keep moving. With no permanent place to stay, I packed up what little I had and set out across the country, heading east on Route 40, a legendary highway that cuts through the heart of America.

The road was long and unpredictable. Some nights, I found a quiet rest stop or a secluded parking lot where I could sleep in peace. Other nights, I lay awake in my car, wondering what my next move should be. Every morning was a fresh challenge—finding a gas station where I could clean up, stretching my money as far as possible, and figuring out how to stay safe on the road.

I passed through the vast deserts of Arizona, where the red rock formations felt like something out of a dream. I watched the sun rise over New Mexico, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. In Texas, I stopped in roadside diners, where the coffee was hot, and the conversations were warm, even if only for a brief moment. I kept moving, pushing forward through Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Mississippi, watching the landscapes shift around me, mirroring the changes happening inside me.

After two weeks of uncertainty, exhaustion, and endless stretches of highway, I got a call that changed everything—an old friend in Florida reached out, offering a place to stay and a fresh start. Without hesitation, I pointed my car southeast and drove straight through, feeling a renewed sense of hope with every mile.

Taking a break from social media during this time wasn’t intentional at first—it was survival. But as time went on, I realized I needed to step back to truly experience these moments, to sit in them fully rather than just capturing them for a post. That time away gave me clarity, but it also made me realize how much I miss sharing these stories with all of you.

So, I’m back. And I’m ready. Ready to dive into storytelling again, to share not just the picture-perfect moments but the real, raw experiences that come with life on the road. You’ll be seeing more from me on Instagram (@roboace) and YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/@Roboace), where I’ll be revisiting some of these places and telling the full story—both the beauty and the struggle.

Thank you for sticking with me. This journey is far from over, and I can’t wait to take you along for the next chapter.

Much love,
Roboace