The Journey I Thought I Was Taking - Looking Back at Day One

The Journey I Thought I Was Taking
Looking Back at Day One — May 18, 2026
Written July 30, 2026- Travel With Rolando

Blog and Notes

Date: May 18, 2026
Route: West Palm Beach → Clermont → Micanopy, Florida
Miles Driven: 280 miles
Overnight: Vollama Acres Farm (Harvest Hosts)
Lesson of the Day: Sometimes peace is found in the places we almost overlooked.

"Sometimes we spend weeks planning a destination, only to discover that the real journey begins the moment life changes the itinerary." - Rolando Chang Barrero

Now that I'm home again—several months earlier than I had expected—I find myself thinking about the morning this journey began.

I've discovered that the beginning of a trip often makes far more sense once you've reached its end.

When I backed my RV out of my driveway in West Palm Beach on May 18, I believed I was beginning another months-long adventure that would eventually take Bella and me across the United States and into Mexico, ending in Puerto Vallarta. Instead, life had other plans. Routes changed. Destinations disappeared from the itinerary. Priorities shifted. Eventually, I found myself back home much sooner than I had imagined.

"I thought I was leaving for Mexico. I was really leaving to find myself."

None of that was visible to me that morning.

What I did know was that this departure felt different from every previous tour.

Normally, the excitement of travel quickly replaced any nervousness. Once the engine started and the miles rolled beneath the tires, I always seemed to settle into the familiar rhythm of life on the road.

Not this time.

For days I had been buried in research, trying to understand the requirements for driving into Mexico. Every website seemed to offer different answers. Temporary vehicle permits. Mexican insurance. Border procedures. Bella's paperwork. Deadlines that appeared to require action before arriving at the border, mixed with other requirements that could only be completed once I got there. Every answer created another question.

The uncertainty became exhausting.

Then there were the security concerns.

Only weeks earlier, cartel leader Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes—known as "El Mencho"—had been killed, followed shortly thereafter by Hugo César Macías Ureña, known as "El Tuli." Their deaths triggered violence across western Mexico, including highway blockades, burning vehicles, and disruptions that reached Puerto Vallarta, one of the principal destinations on my itinerary.

As someone planning to drive alone into Mexico in a twenty-eight-foot RV with Florida plates and a little dog named Bella, those headlines were impossible to ignore.

I kept hoping to find an organized RV caravan traveling south around the same time. Safety in numbers seemed like a smart idea. But despite searching, I never found one. I couldn't help wondering whether the silence itself was telling me something—that perhaps other RVers were wrestling with the same concerns.

Back home, the world felt unsettled as well.

The war with Iran had begun only weeks before. Living just a few miles from Mar-a-Lago, where President Trump had been during that period, made international events feel strangely personal. Whether those concerns were rational or emotional, they occupied my thoughts.

As a Latino man, I also found myself thinking about stories involving immigration enforcement in ways I never had before. Reports of mistaken encounters and aggressive enforcement operations lingered in the back of my mind. I knew exactly who I was. I also knew that first impressions aren't always based on facts.

Add rising fuel prices, increasing grocery costs, and the uncertainty of financing a journey that might last several months, and I realized I wasn't leaving home with the carefree optimism that had accompanied my earlier adventures.

I was leaving with hope.

Hope that the road would answer questions I couldn't.

Hope that circumstances would improve.

Hope that, somehow, everything would work itself out.

The first day itself was intentionally short.

Rather than racing toward some distant destination, I stopped first at the Presidents Hall of Fame in Clermont, Florida, enjoying one last slice of Old Florida before continuing north. It felt appropriate somehow—a gentle beginning rather than a hurried escape.

By late afternoon I arrived at Vollama Acres Farm, a Harvest Hosts location tucked into the peaceful countryside near Micanopy.

What happened next reminded me why I travel.

Within minutes, the worries that had occupied my mind for days began to dissolve.

There is just something about llamas and alpacas that instantly makes me smile. Maybe it's their curious personalities, their expressive faces, or the way they somehow manage to look both elegant and completely goofy at exactly the same time.

Surrounded by quiet pastures, soft noses, gentle humming sounds, and watchful eyes, I found myself laughing more than I had in days. The constant mental chatter about border crossings, insurance policies, wars, travel advisories, fuel prices, and world events slowly gave way to something much simpler.

Presence.

The farm was beautiful. The countryside was peaceful. The animals seemed completely content with the world exactly as it was.

Perhaps that was the lesson they were quietly teaching me.

Bruce and Kathi couldn't have been more welcoming. They exemplified everything I love about the Harvest Hosts community—generous people who open not only their property but also their lives to travelers passing through. Their kindness immediately transformed what could have been nothing more than an overnight stop into one of those memorable places that stays with you long after you've left.

As evening settled over Vollama Acres, I sat outside my RV surrounded by silence, interrupted only by the occasional sounds of the farm.

Looking back now, I realize that my first day perfectly foreshadowed the journey ahead.

I began the morning carrying the weight of everything I could not control.

I ended the evening grateful for everything immediately in front of me.

That lesson would repeat itself over and over during the weeks that followed.

As I revisit this journey here, one day at a time, I'll share not only where Bella and I traveled, but also the fears, the laughter, the remarkable people, the unexpected detours, the breathtaking landscapes, and the countless ordinary moments that ultimately became extraordinary.

After all, journeys are rarely defined by the destinations we plan.

More often, they are transformed by the places we never expected to find.

- Travel With Rolando