[x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/1″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_text]Foregoing all eco-awareness, I stand under the hot water for as long as possible. Rotate slowly, absorb heat evenly. Wiggling my toes as they finally defrost, I’m happy we decided to stay at a campground for the night. This moment of morning warmth is completely worth paying for.
Meandering across the hilly grounds, it’s obvious the passing of summer has put an end to the tourist-laden camping season. Gone are the days of campers and tents filling all available space, of children running excitedly from site to site, of campfire coffee and fragrant morning cookouts. Fall firmly in place, only a few RVs remain. No other tents. The silence is broken only by the rustle of crisp leaves bumping into one another, the hollow thud of acorns falling from on high.
Arriving past dark the night before, I headed straight to the top of the hill to set up camp. Promised to return in the morning during business hours to settle up.
Entering the office, I nod at the woman from last night. Wander about as she talks with an RVing couple. Seeing a guest book I find a fresh page. Write, Mallory Paige and Baylor the Dog are traveling across North America on a motorcycle-sidecar – proving that you don’t have to be fearless or perfect to live your dreams. Choose Happy | Seek Adventure
Setting the pen down, I pause for a moment. Ponder what happens to these books when they’re full.
Perhaps decades from now, someone will look through this campground guest book and wonder about the girl and dog who motorcycled around the continent. Get inspired. Go on an adventure. Live out a dream.
Or perhaps this book will just get thrown out. Seen by no one. Trashed. Forgotten.
I guess you just never really know what affect your life will have on others.
RVers departing, I turn. Smile at the man also waiting in line. Approach the counter, Morning Marsha.
Did you freeze to death last night?
Well, not to death, but it was pretty cold, I respond laughing.
Turning to the man she says, This is my new favorite guest. She pulled up last night on a motorcycle – with her dog! My daughter is in Florida, but I called her right away. Told her all about it.
Reaching in my bag I pull out two postcards. Introduce myself to Daniel and hand him one. Give the other to Marsha so she can show her daughter. Wave goodbye and leave them to settle their business.
Wrapping a scarf around my neck I settle at the picnic table. Review the map. I don’t have a specific destination in mind – just a vague idea of escaping cold nights and feeling sand between my toes. The coast isn’t that far. Depending on the town, we could be there in a day or so.
At the sound of a car approaching, I look up. Wave as Daniel pulls in next to us. Opening the back door, he introduces his black dog sidekick, Big Mama. Brief greetings exchanged, she and Baylor happily sniff about the campsite together while Daniel and I chat about motorcycles, the adventure thus far, the route from here. He mentions he’ll be pressing apples tonight; invites Baylor and I to the farmhouse to join in.
And just like that our plans change. The beach can wait. I’ve never processed apples and this is the kind of homesteading skill I can’t pass up. Map drawn, details discussed, we say our goodbyes.
With hours to spare until the planned apple shenanigans, I decide to enjoy the vagabond equivalent of a favorite day at home. The opportunity to simply putter about at home is one of the things I miss most on the road. To work on projects, clean, cook, organize, read. To mosey about accomplishing things in a wonderfully relaxed fashion. To do all sorts of lovely domestic things that turn a house into home.
Sun high in the sky, I toss my jacket on the picnic table. Fill the morning playing on the yoga mat, working on the computer, inspecting Rufio, following leaf-filled trails through the woods, listening to tunes and repacking gear. Not for the first time, I overestimate what can be done in an afternoon. Look at the clock and jump into high gear. Rushing about, I cinch everything down, tuck Baylor into the sidecar. Accept that we’ll arrive later than I’d planned, hope apple shenanigans don’t run on an extremely strict schedule.
As usual, nervous energy builds the closer I get to the farm. It seems approaching the unknown will never be completely comfortable. Will always cause a momentary inner battle between following through as agreed upon when excited or fleeing as desired when scared. Having committed to not make decisions based on fear, I breathe deeply. Attempt to slow my frantic heartbeat. Carry on.
Following the hand drawn map, we pass under the parkway. Turn off the highway and roll down the dirt road.
I don’t know exactly what the evening will bring, but that is the adventure of life. A person could wear themselves out worrying about all the what-ifs. Focus so myopically on the unknowns that they miss the point of it all, the beauty in each unexpected moment. Better to just jump into the current. To live boldly and give it your all.
Parking next to the century old farmhouse, my excitement returns, fear dissipates. Helmet off, I shake out my hair, scan the scene. Spotting Daniel and the apple crew, I smile. Wave hello and jump in completely.
129 days down. Many to come.
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