OMD Travelogue | Day 62 – Mallory Paige

[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=”1/2″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_counter num_start=”0″ num_end=”300″ num_speed=”1500″ num_prefix=”” num_suffix=”” num_color=”#2ecc71″ text_above=”Rode for” text_below=”Minutes” text_color=””][x_gap size=”45px” class=”x-hide-xl x-hide-lg x-hide-md “][/x_column][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/2″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_counter num_start=”0″ num_end=”366″ num_speed=”1500″ num_prefix=”” num_suffix=”” num_color=”#3498db” text_above=”Covered” text_below=”Kilometers” text_color=””][/x_column][/x_row][/x_section][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]Cocooned in the sleeping bag, I give Baylor scratches with my feet, tell him good morning. Smile as he jumps up excitedly, bolts out of the tent as soon as it’s unzipped. Peeks his head back in, Come on, it’s breakfast time!

Winding our way through the mountains I note the blue sky shining sharply, the crisp air sliding under my collar. There’s no need to look at the leaves, we clearly stand on the precipice of fall. Suspended for a brief moment between seasons. The coolness of autumn overtaking morning and night, warm sun of summer reigning supreme mid-day.

Turning off the highway, I follow a dirt road looking for a spot to stretch and explore. Mission successful, we unload, prepare to play in the emerald mountain pond. Standing in the sun, without the motorcycle-movement breeze, I quickly overheat. Peel layers off while Baylor sniffs every available shrub. Learns more about this spot than I can ever hope to understand.

Turning towards the shore, we spot the stick at the same time. Eyes shining, we look at each other. I nod and he runs to the edge of the water, turns, wags his tail in anticipation. On your marks, get set, go! Stick launched, Baylor follows suit. With single-minded determination he paddles after it, head low for efficiency, tale ruddering non-stop.

Throw an average size stick and Baylor will just stare at you ambivalently. Throw a small stick and he’s downright offended. But a massive, tree-sized stick? Now that’s a challenge this dog can get behind.

Back on the highway, we follow the road up through the mountains. Green forests and lush ponds give way to gray rock and barren land. Mountain peaks where only the most enterprising of creatures can survive.

Descending towards town, I pull into the Fort Nelson visitor’s center. Enjoy complimentary wi-fi and hot tea, realize I need to add visitor’s centers to the list of free, useful places to stop along the road.

Maps in hand, I pause for a moment, looking at the motel across the street. Cool evenings in town are dangerous. I find myself wishing for a hot shower and a soft bed. A break from setting up the tent only tear down camp the next morning. Shaking my head, I break the spell. Pull on my helmet. Get back on the road.

I’ve heard people mention how difficult it is to find free camping along this route and it makes me wonder if I’m doing it wrong. Or more accurately, it makes me think we must have different standards. I have just two criteria for a campsite:

1. Off the road enough that I don’t have to worry about being run over mid-sleep.
2. Out of the way enough that we won’t be asked to move along in the middle of the night.

Other than that, I’ll sleep on gravel, dirt, or rocky river shores, within sound of the highway or deep in the backwoods, in clearly marked public lands or ambiguously unmarked open spaces. Some are nicer than others, but they all fulfill the main goal – free sleep for the night.

And when I find myself staring longingly at motels, I remember motodog rule #319:

High expectations are disappointments waiting to happen. No expectations are free camp spots for the taking.

62 days down. Many to come.

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