On Route to Alaska: Day One

Near Lyttle, British Columbia, camping on a large and rushing river we don't know the name of. These moments are the ones that make all the hard work worth it all - not just the year and a half it took for us to even get on the road - but the daily hardships, a new form of grind and hustle, the constant moving and shifting of ourselves and our things, the tearing down and setting up of home, the grueling long days on the road, the constant search, sans cell phone service, for a place to rest our heads.

I am perched on a boulder, the Airstream fifty long and leaping bounds uphill from me. A soft and dry desert-like wind is picking up and whipping the pages I write on, around my swoll and sweaty muscles from twilight yoga on the ledge just minutes ago. The sun has dipped behind the mountain hours ago, but yet I have light enough to write, I am looking forward to our movement North, to the land of the midnight sun.

The river is flowing, lapping, moving, dancing, delighting in twilight's velvety softness.

I wonder, happily, how I arrived here. Yes, all that hard work and the grueling days - we know, we know. Yet it's deeper than this, more lovely and interestingly vague. I am home, more home than I've ever been, yet I am finding myself in these depths and recesses of thought in ways I never did while stationary, strong and sure memories, things long forgotten, things forgotten for the guilt and pain of them in order to continue living, find me paused and often, broken. I know, without a doubt, that being here is more than a vintage Airstream or a fucking social media following...and while those things are all very much a part of our journey, I feel the need to pause and say that for me, it stretches into so much more than that. Simply the fears alone that I face daily - people, the unknown, car travel, water, heights, natural disasters, late night darkness - the list goes on...these things I've allowed to overtake me in recent years, I must wake to daily...and get through endlessly.

I am already deeply, irrevocably, beautifully changed - and perhaps I am right where I need to be to truly process who I am, who I've been, and discover who I want to be and how I want to be the rest of my days. Perhaps that sounds cliche and foolish, but the truth of it is - trips like this - all the time spent driving and staring at beauty - they can't help themselves. They change you. They strengthen you. They stretch you. And if you're receptive, this will grow you.