Having watched the meticulous pre-flight preparation, I feel excitedly relaxed as we gain speed, head for the sky. I’ve never been in a plane this small, but immediately feel the pull to do it again and again. Tucking away the information about getting a pilots license for another time, I settle back to enjoy the views.
My eyes sweep about, greedily taking in the vast expanses. Lush, green underbrush and marsh. Rivers cutting through the land, stubbornly heading for the sea. Jagged mountaintops reaching for the sky. Shocking blue glacial hearts peaking through crevasses.
Somehow Tom manages to fly the plane, take in the expanses and expertly spot wildlife from afar. He circles back around as I try to see what he sees; bear, eagle, goats, otters. A short plane ride away from town the land is wild and untouched.
I’m tempted to stay in Homer, but the road is calling. I vow to return next year to work on the Larua Ingalls part of my vision, prepare me to live the homesteading hermit dream, learning about veggie oil conversions, hunting, spear fishing, flying, solar power, gardening, set netting and more.
One thing at a time though, the current moto mission is my focus.
Sunshine on my face, stress gone after a successful day wrenching, I can’t help but smile as we cruise along the peninsula.
Stretching at a gas stop, I chat with a trio of Texans. They comment about what a rarity it is to see a solo woman on the road. I nod, I haven’t yet met another. I ask about the stuffed animal riding on the back of the large Harley. Gary explains that each trip he brings a stuffed animal, creating a photo-filled storybook along the way for each one of his grandkids. I smile, that’s one of the best things I’ve heard all day. They ask what my parents think about my adventuring alone. I laugh, I think I’ve slowly desensitized them to my adventures by amping it up each time.
As they head out, I keep laughing. Thinking about the things I’ve said to my family that didn’t turn out quite as reassuring as I’d hoped.
If everything goes badly and there’s absolutely no other option, I can press this button and, in theory, we’ll be rescued.
I’ve got a bunch of tools and some extra safety wire, so I can just cobble everything together if it breaks when I’m in the middle of nowhere.
Don’t worry I do a calculation before going with new people. There’s a really low percentage that I’ll end up chopped up in a basement with this extended moto family because they all know each other online.
Despite all my bumbled assurances, I’m blessed to have a family that supports my adventures.
They know there’s a whole lot of gypsy in these rugged, rowdy bones and they embrace it. Cheer me on. Keep me going. Love me for it, not in spite of it. And that makes all of the difference.
41 days down. Many to come.
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