And I’m not talking about bad habits or resentments. We are a few weeks into our journey now and as I mentioned before, space is at a premium. Mark has always been a fastidious packer, he prides himself on packing for two weeks trips in a small carry on bag, gleefully(and smugly) pulling out crisp clean attire for every occasion. I, on the other hand, like my creature comforts. I’m not talking the usual feminine accoutrements such as lotions and facial cleansers, hair products and make-up. I was actually pumped to go ‘au naturel’ this trip. Yet, there are certain creature comforts I can’t travel without.
On or about the fifth day, Mark was pulling out his little basket from under the bed in the cricket which I had designated for his use and he was complaining that he needed more space for his stuff, when he discovered my books & journal stash. He had already found my basket and two bags of travel books and reading material but this was a new stash. This one contained my myriad selection of journals and sketch pads and hiking logbooks . Pens, colored pencils. My little creativity central. He confronted me with an ultimatum. Ship home some things because he was taking over an additional basket. I negotiated and explained and justified. But I realized I had overdone it. This plethora of reading & writing stuff makes me feel safe and comfortable, it makes our little house a home (or a mini traveling library, I know). So, maybe I need to listen and get rid of some things. I haven’t done it yet.
It was just a few days ago when he once again was scrounging around in the storage space underneath the bed, muttering that there HAD to be more space for the little he brought, when he discovered my other creature comfort. My traveling bar. He was supportive of the collection of Michigan spirits I had brought along. My theory was that, much like Steinbeck in Travels with Charley, it was always a good idea to have some welcoming beverages on hand to offer new friends in campgrounds. Case in point: Lars & Yvonne. While camping in Custer State Park, we met our neighbors from the Netherlands and after exchanging pleasantries, we extended the invitation to come over after dinner to sip some nice Michigan bourbon by the fire. Which led to a wonderful conversation on politics, a subject which I had pleaded with Mark to avoid after several snarky comments dropped in conversation previously. But Lars and Yvonne were as eager to talk about the dismal nature of American politics with us as were we to hear about their own. It was a lovely evening. So, back to said bar.
I figured a few bottles were one thing, but I also needed my shaker, silver spoons and shot glass, and most importantly, a variety of artisan mixers to make the perfect cocktail. (Bees Knees anyone?) Just because I hadn’t utilized the liquor cabinet(basket) yet didn’t mean I would not be bringing it into circulation sometime soon, say in Oregon. Mark gave me a withering look, as if enough was enough. I knew the look. Something had to go. I have to choose, But how can I? Literature and spirits make this whole sojourn civilized.
There is one more thing. I haven’t used the marine toilet yet (some of you are gasping in disbelief, you’ve heard the stories). It takes up a lot of space and there has been a lot of discussion about it (long drives can involve inane conversation). Yes, it’s convenient in an emergency but think about it. Wouldn’t you rather just do your business in the woods with the handy little shovel we brought for that express purpose then use said toilet? An important factor not considered upon purchase is this: one must clean the toilet after your emergency. In the woods, you cover up the hole and walk away. So the big white monstrosity of a shitter is now tucked away in the Thule, freeing up some precious space and making Mark a happy guy. After a few glasses of wine late at night in the cricket, Mark and I have taken to cracking ourselves up with the idea of leaving it on the side of the road. Or on a park bench. You know what they say about one person’s trash.
