Journeyist Mindset
Hear me out … a free-wheeling life on the road is awesome! But it’s not without its challenges and struggles. To be fair, Donelle and I are on Day 48 of this gap year and while we don’t yet consider ourselves to be veterans we have started building up a little road rash and perspective. We have heard on numerous occasions from seemingly countless people a repeated refrain: “We’ve always dreamed of doing that.” Has our experience lived up to all those years of dreaming?
Well let me tell you, the dream is every bit as magical as you make it. We are blessed that we both share a wandering spirit. Our honeymoon, back in the last century, consisted of the first night’s reservation followed by repeated flips of the coin that chose our direction. We wandered up the north shore of Minnesota, through the north woods and even ended up north of the border. We discovered hidden ponds, secret paths, tourist treasures and enjoyed a life-saving dinner at Nanibojou lodge. That pork tenderloin in cranberry red wine sauce is to this day the single greatest meal to which I have ever set a fork. Despite the years of culinary delights created by Donelle I suspect she will not take offense to that statement. If someone spies me dew covered in the back of the truck tomorrow morning you’ll know I’ve over stepped.
The point is, we love to explore and discover the new. These past 48 days have provided awe-inspired beauty in the form of the longest autumn we have experienced. The leaves continue to change color and drop. We move further south and the cycle continues. We have also experienced the “terror” of Virginia tarmac, a state that appears to abhor shoulders on its roads, refuses to put white paint down for a fog line, and allows trees grow to close enough to threaten tow mirrors. As a result, I have only seen that portion of the state that exists between the two front quarter panels of a Chevy. Donelle assures me that it is absolutely stunning.
Where we previously succumbed to a destination mindset dictated by a “vacational” existence, we are once again flipping a coin and free-forming the scheduled exploring. There isn’t the same guilt of “wasting” a vacation day to rest and recovery. Now we lean in to them. Heck, three days in to our stay at the campground in Williamsburg we discovered it had an indoor pool and hot tub. The schedule was adjusted accordingly and a new nightly ritual was born.
Donelle once suggested that we are journeyists and it’s a wonderful term that strikes a chord in me. Once upon a time, while on family road trips with two young children, we focused not only on where we were going, but the fun that can be had along the way. I’d like to think that has been worth the extra effort and time. Did you know the country’s longest covered bridge and its shortest are separated by just 12 miles? We searched them out while driving through Ohio and it was worth every minute.
How do you adapt such a mind set to a daily life that involves running from one event or meeting to the next? Or fill empty gaps of time with meaningful interactions that don’t involve a video screen? What does it even mean when your watch or your phone reminds you to breath? It’s both a conscious decision and an ongoing endeavor.
Changing out of those previous patterns can be a Herculean effort but mile after mile we are adjusting. Each day previously was a known commodity. We knew the schedule from sunup to sundown. There may have been variations on the themes but it was all calendered and chronicaled. This life on the road is definitely not that.
Moving from sticks and bricks to a life on the road is predicated on one very important question: what are you willing to give up? To be sure, there are things you will gain but creature comforts exist on a sliding scale that quickly reveals itself at a weigh station. Every pound is precious in a camper. Each of us will place a different value on WANT and NEED and sort the items differently in the categories. The people with whom you interact will not be the same, the businesses you frequent will no longer be familiar. I’ve often said there’s a fine line between a rut and a groove. Dig the rut long and deep enough and those walls become pretty comfortable. The places you frequent become comfortable. We decided it was time to get up and dance while singing a different tune.
Living a week or two here and there, moving from one campground to the next certainly isn’t for everyone and for us it won’t be forever. Dealing with the stinky slinky and one’s own sewage is but one test of mettle and there are others that weren’t part of the original dream. For right now, we’re embracing the view through the windshield and filled with gratitude while soaking up the experiences and opportunities.