For as long as I can remember, I've fantasized about traveling, close to the land. We road-tripped a fair amount when I was a kid, taking annual vacations to visit grandparents on opposite sides of the country. Sunday Rides in the Mountains weren't as welcomed by us kids as much as by my mother, who craved leaving the city for good.
On those long car rides, I remember gazing out the window at the roadside, choosing a likely path for my imaginary horse. In high school, I fantasized about hitchhiking on Hwy 1, likely because San Francisco was the center of the hippie culture my generation identified with.
Once I got a dog, I started camping by myself, which was certainly something I never felt permission to do as a kid or young woman. And my younger self had the stamina to drive for many hours, the freedom to find a ride on the university ride board, etc. I can't imagine doing that now. Fortunately, I have been lucky enough to have a car most of my adult life.
I've been saying I was going to travel south for the winter for years. I'm not sure when that started, but when I discovered the vandwelling community online about ten years ago, going to the southwest for the winter became a viable possibility. Buying the minivan added to that viability. And finally, last Sep 23, I actually did it.
Once several years ago, I managed to pack up the truck and head south. I drove over to Ellensberg, down to Yakima, to Bend and then over to see Lisa and Dan. While eating dinner inside, my dog, Dottie, ate my seat belt. It was November, and crossing unfamiliar mountain passes without a seatbelt didn't feel like a good idea at all, so I had to go home.
Since then, I've had several false starts, but this year, I wanted to do it and lo, and behold, I did! And I loved it. We left on a Saturday afternoon and drove to the Oregon Coast, drove across Oregon diagonally, through the Boise area, down through Salt Lake and entered Colorado via Grand Junction.
At that point, Dottie ate another seatbelt. It became her habit to eat whatever she could reach anytime she was upset at me. The car was hard on her. She never really relaxed while driving, although she was perfectly happy to sleep on the bed beside me if we stopped and I curled up to read a book or play on my phone.
What is/was this dream about? Living outside, close to the land, aware of the sky, the sun and the changing moods of wherever I was at that moment. I think I only partially realized that was part of the dream.
Another part was a wish for adventure. I've had many journeys in my life, internal and external. I've been something of a risk-taker, even though the risks may have felt edgier to me than they might to others. But isn't that the thing about risk-taking? I pushed MY boundaries, MY limits. Sure, some folks would push their limits by hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Number 1, I have never been physically strong enough to backpack. Number 2, hiking is boring. I can't imagine wanting to plod along every day for months.
So, my limits, my pushing, my successes. I've taken emotional risks a good bit of my life, too. That's a story for another blog. I think I don't take so many emotional risks now. That's not a bad thing. I've reached a point of peace with who I am, who I relate to, whether I am "alone" or not. Most of the risks I took in the past were related to desperately wanting emotional contact. No matter how many risks I took, I never found what I was looking for. Instead, I came to be okay with being alone, and even to prefer it a good bit of the time. I'm certainly happier now.
My housemate is convinced I'm a serious badass. I know he envies me the good health to have taken a trip like this, and that's probably part of it. I don't see what I did as particularly badass, unless one thinks it is badass to fulfill a dream. In a way it is, but I think I did something I loved doing. I'd love to do it again.
Next time I might spend more time in Colorado, spend more time sitting in camp and less time driving. I wouldn't be so quick to look for campgrounds and would opt for dispersed camping. Oh, and next time? I'll take a dog who comes when she's damn-well called. Little turkey!
I wanted to write on this trip, and though I took the laptop, I only used it for journalling one time. I'd like to change that next time. I might want a decent camera, too!
I wanted to get stronger physically and I succeeded there. Before, I used a treking pole when I walked at the dog park, and rarely walked very far at all. Today, we walked to the 2 benches, and could have walked farther. I'll keep working on that.
So, what other motivations for my trip? Adventure, pushing my limits, fulfilling a dream. Being more in touch with nature. Seeing a part of the country I'm not familiar with.
Now that last turned out to be a big one. While Colorado was largely revisiting favorite spots from my past (although very little was all that familiar fifty years later), Arizona was a place I'd seen in many vandwelling videos. As it turns out, a video does not substitute for the real-life, in person experience.
I wasn't too impressed with the scenes of the desert I saw in videos. What the videos didn't include, among all their scenes of bare, boring desert, was the light, especially on the mountains that are on the horizon almost everywhere I went in AZ.
These mountains were often mere hills when one got up close and personal, but on the horizon, they looked like mountains, and that was all I needed. They were usually bare, rocky affairs, but jagged peaks against the sky. Often layers of peaks, one behind another.
The light on these hills added a beauty to the desert I didn't expect. It was constantly changing. In the early morning, they were pink from the sunrise. During the day, they looked like what they were - black, rocky, bare. However, the clouds provided an ever-changing concert of shadows and light, so each single moment was different from the next. In the evenings, especially, they became shadows of mist. Since we saw layers of mountains like that from the house in the mountains, I have a particular fondness for that sort of beauty. And almost every afternoon provided a light show. It was stunning.
My trip turned into a love affair with the desert. I'll always love mountains first, but the desert became familiar and comfortable. It helped that it was mostly too cold for rattlesnakes. There are certainly other pests, and we saw signs of them all: coyotes, javelinas, cougars, etc. But we were lucky enough not to have any negative encounters with them. All in all, a dream fulfilled.
