-It has occurred to me that we have spent 30 days or 720 hours breathing fresh air. We prepare and eat our meals al fresco, hike the wild spaces and sleep with the chill of night and the night sounds of forests and meadows blowing in the screen windows of the Cricket. Sleeping has been surprisingly satisfying, no doubt a result of the daily exertions of hiking. This constant exposure to nature and its sensual effects of sound and smell on your mind and body changes you. It’s subtle magic, it works to slow my pace and live consciously. I do not know how I am going to return to a Michigan winter, where I tend to burrow.
-These past weeks have also been action-packed, we have moved often, setting up and dismantling camp enough that it is becoming second nature. It’s been weeks of a lot of learning and a few frustrations as well. Compromise has become an operative word. Luckily, Mark and I are simpatico over most things. We eat at similar times, we are not bothered by a little dirt and less then clean camp showers. We are good at agreeing on spur of the moment changes to our itinerary. We both enjoy long and challenging hikes and crave the afternoon beer break at exactly the same time. Let’s be real: we are together 24/7, it’s not always sunshine and flowers. It seems that the one area in which we are vastly different is our early morning and evening biorhythms. Mark is an early riser, I have amended my habits and now awaken with him(I mean, we are living in a closet sized space) but I like to take a leisurely start to the morning with my tea and toast. Mark is usually outside the camper making his coffee. If it’s a cold morning, he’s ready to go and start the day. That’s worked itself out but the biggest hurdle has been the evenings. Camp nights end early as I have discovered. Meal prep, campfire, nightcap, and my travel partner is ready to curl up and call it a night. I have always gotten a second wind late at night. At home, I can putz round the house, play music, and have the freedom and space to move around. While for the most part on this trip, I will use those later hours to read or write, occasionally I have a desperate need to whoop it up. The campground is quiet, Mark is snoozing, and I’m craving a dance party. But I’m stuck inside a tiny home with no external stimuli. It’s only happened a few times, but I’ve wanted to scream and shout when it has. Our stops in towns has assuaged the need somewhat, allowing me to dip into some culture, live music and loud conversations with people.
-I realized something today. We have a robust itinerary and by nature, when I visit a place, I want to see and do everything on offer. I’ve come to understand that I need to forego this desire to be a tourist and check off the guidebook Top Ten. I met a man today who has been living out of his van for 8 months, he jokingly called us newbies. But we both understood almost immediately the allure of the untethered life, the freedom of the open road. The gentleman, who was sporting a t-shirt claiming him to be a wiffle ball champion which sparked a side conversation about the value of the forgotten sport, looked at me knowingly and said, Just wait. It’s an addiction. I think I am beginning to get a taste for it.
-I have noticed that people will do absolutely anything, put themselves through horrendous uphill slogs, cross treacherous streams, climb granite cliffs, hike 15 miles, drive way far out of their way, brave wind, slippery rocks and 90 degree temps for TWO things. Waterfalls & Sunsets. It amazes me. It doesn’t matter if they are 90 or 10 years old, if they have a 50lb pack or a baby on their back, they could be limping with a cane, or never hiked a day in their life. If there is a remote waterfall(don’t matter how big or small) or an incredible sunset vista, the trail is crowded. I’ve seen with my own eyes the will humans have to witness beauty. It is deeply inspiring.
-Ladies: remember these three letters. FUD. Female Urination Device. Sounds gross right?I must share a device that has changed my hiking life, this little piece of blue molded plastic that has rocked my world. It is my #1 most useful item I have brought along on this trip. Bottom Line: I can PEE in the woods standing up. There is something no less than revolutionary about this. Let’s consider this: I have been squatting in the woods, in awkward places, my entire life, legs burning, waiting to drip dry, cold breezes chilling the nether regions. I was given this thing(Thanks Deb!) that changed my life and honestly, initially I was turned off by it. Like, I’m supposed to cup my genitals in a narrow plastic trough and let it go and expect all to be well. As if, there will be no leakage or accidents. And we women, we don’t like accidents. So, the first time you use this thing, it’s an alternate universe. By some act of faith, you are standing and performing an act only men heretofore have had the convenience of doing. No squatting, no wet shoes or exposed rears. I think Mark misses pulling his well worn ruse when he is my lookout and he pretends someone’s coming and I get all panicked and scrambling about. I have to admit…it feels a little bit powerful. Like the world equilibrates for just a little while.
-Mary Oliver is a worthy companion for walks in the woods and by the coast. It took me until halfway through, a rainy day and a postage stamp sized bookstore to find Ms. Oliver and invite her on my travels. I’ve found her musings to be provocative in their simplicity. If I forget to notice the purple violets or the dew on a pine needle, the delicate spider web on the mossy branch, the crusted barnacles under the rock, or the brilliant lime green spines of the underwater anemone, Ms. Oliver returns my senses to me. Her words gently admonish me to pay attention.
-Best Moments: And they are moments, fleeting and beautiful in their brevity. Arrival in smoke and orange dusk in the Badlands, first homemade pot of chili on Blue Bell Campground in Custer State Park, Sunset on Devils Tower, discovering a remote hot spring on a trek in Idaho, glimpsing the snow covered Tetons coming down the pass, Jenny Lake in the late afternoon sun, black bear sighting on the backroads in the Tetons, falling asleep to the sound of a bull elk bugling outside our Cricket in Yellowstone, spectacular colors on the Blue Lake hike in the Cascades, observing a massive herd of Elk enter the meadow at Mountain Home Lodge in Leavenworth, first glimpse of the Pacific at Kalaloch Campground in the Olympics, black bear encounter in the Hoh, tide pooling on Ruby Beach in the Olympic, cooking fresh crab sauce in camp on the coast of Oregon, playing trivia with the locals at McGregor’s whiskey bar, biking on the Beach Road in Manzanita. Not to mention all the wonderful people we have shared stories and time with. Who knows what best moments lie around the next bend?
-What I miss after 6 weeks on the road: my kids. We talk often and we group text but my heart aches to hug them and laugh with them. My longing for family time does sometimes make me wistful. Girl Time: I miss my friends and the shared goofy times and deep conversations and talks only a female companion can understand and provide. My kitchen: I miss cooking in my home. Femininity: I miss wearing something other then the same hiking clothes day after day, I miss dressing up and wearing heels. I miss fashion, though I don’t miss shopping, at least not yet. Despite these things, I embrace another six weeks on the road. The gifts I am receiving daily are opening up something in my soul I have been craving. Fulfillment comes in many forms, I’m beginning to learn that.