It’s not that I’m unexcited to continue exploring it’s just that this cabin retreat has been so convenient, cozy and comfortable. Without needing to look for wifi, figure out where to sleep or partake in the daily camp up and down routine, productivity skyrockets. Suddenly there’s time to annihilate the to-do list, answer emails, write, plan, scheme. With four walls and heat, the relationship to weather is completely different. Suddenly cold mornings are a thing of beauty with a hot cup of tea in hand, rain storms delightful when soaking in the deep tub, crisp nights lovely with the fire crackling.
So I find myself dragging my feet to leave. Slowly packing up. Thinking perhaps the weather isn’t right to go, maybe Baylor just needs one more day at the cabin. But. The sun is shining, warm and bright. Baylor prancing about, excited and eager. I’m alone in my hesitations.
I console myself knowing that my crush, John, felt the same,
As the day approached, my warm bed and comfortable house grew increasingly desirable and my dear wife incalculably precious. To give these up for three months for the terrors of the uncomfortable and the unknown seemed crazy. I didn’t want to go.
Turning onto the highway, the lure of the asphalt welcomes us back. Reminds me the open road is full of freedom, fun and opportunities. Seeing Baylor in the mirror, I grin. Shift, open Rufio up and zoom down the straightaway.
Stop in Blue Ridge complete. I give Baylor an early dinner. Repack gear. Respond to passers-by,
Of course you can take his picture. Yeah, he’s just so cute in the doggies. Yep, we really did come all the way from Oregon.
A man approaches, asks about the trip so far. Wonders how I got started.
Well, a year ago I was in Ecuador…
Wait, what? Why were you in Ecuador? Sorry, I’m asking so many questions. It’s just fascinating.
Oh, I don’t mind. Ask away.
And I really don’t mind. It would be ludicrous to travel about with a dog in a sidecar and expect people not to talk to us. That’s the whole point even. To be traveling in such a way that I simply must interact with everyone. It’s how strangers turn to friends and unexpected offers lead to new adventures. If there comes a time where I can’t stand the thought of answering another question, well, then it will be time to leave the road, to make a change. But that time is not now.
Dusk approaching, we head north. Bounce through borders, landing in Tennessee. Follow the the winding road. Slow as it turns bumpy and unpredictable. Make our way to the area for free, dispersed camping.
Headlamp secured, we walk around a bit. Take it in as best as possible through the glow of the flashlight. Seems like we’re the only ones around these parts.
Settling into the familiarity of the tent, I smile. A cabin wasn’t better than the tent. And the tent no better than a cabin. They each have their benefits and drawbacks. It’s the mixture, though, that is really delightful. For I surely wouldn’t appreciate walls and heat nearly as much if not for spending time without their comforts. And I wouldn’t appreciate this tent life so thoroughly if I didn’t get a dose of of the structured life every now and then. It’s just a matter of perspective and balance, really.
Picking up my phone, three bars glow strongly. It’s strange to be in the middle of a forest and still able to communicate with the world, but I’m happy about it tonight. Head propped on my backpack, I scratch Baylor’s ear. Appreciate this moment fully. Dial Rich and make plans for the future.
Perspective and balance.
156 days down. Many to come.
