#EveryDayinMay - Roadtripping Dreams

It started with a poem. Ithaca by Constantine P. Cavafy. This poem is the inspiration for my last assignment of the semester. Write a Journey poem - a poem that tells the story of your life; where do you want to go, what do you want to do, and how will you do it?

While brainstorming for this poem, I got a little carried away with ideas for a giant roadtrip across these here United States of America. This turned into the decision that I wouldn't be able to see everything I wanted to see if I made the suggested brief entry into every state. So I started at Bing maps to see how I could turn it into two trips, one to the west and one to the east. I showed The Husband what I was up to, and his face lit up Christmas tree style. I'm not kidding when I say this man would sell everything we have and head off into the great unknown, you guys.

Then I found Roadtrippers.com, which allowed me to enter in each National Forest or landmark I want to visit, and save the trip. Of course, this turned into the realization that what I really need is several trips, not simply two big ones. Now I'm on the hunt to create four trips. I'm sure this will devolve into several more trips. Because, why not?

I made it to City of Rocks, Idaho before becoming hopelessly overwhelmed.

Here is the original image I found that shows the quickest route across the United States:

Now, if you are the type of person that just wants the ability to cross "See The Lower 48" off your bucket list, this might be the trip for you. But if you're a wayward wanderer, an adventurer, a consumer of grand experiences, you might be looking for something else. Something molded around vast starry nights, snow capped mountain peaks, and waking beneath an endless forest canopy.

I know I am.

I mean, how do I zip through Colorado without seeing the Canyons of the Ancients, or ignore Mt. St. Helens in Washington? There is far, far too much to see in one giant circle around the states. Add to this the fact that The Husband and I want time to hop out of the car and do a little hiking at several points along the way, and well -- you see the problem. It's easy to get lost just in the planning.

For now, I'm enjoying the idea. It's a glimmer of good things to come, adventures on the horizon. It's a promise waiting in the not-too-distant future.

And a fantastic distraction from that Journey poem, which still politely waits to be written in my journal. Perhaps I should get back to that now.

Where would your road trip dreams take you? Share in the comments - I'd love to create a map of destinations provided by readers!

#SOL: Ready to Wander

Photo Credit

I'm a nomad by nature. Maybe it's because I grew up sliding through towns like a slow moving river, carrying a little from each place with me but never resting. Each time a place began to feel like home, I found myself surrounded by boxes and moving trucks, off to the next big adventure.

This house we bought just over a year ago, which I love, has already begin to press in. I'm restless. The itch to be in motion is just beyond my reach, not a thing that can be scratched. While most people I know seem at peace right where they are, I ache to pick up and wander off wherever my feet take me. To see everything this wide world has to offer.

A couple of years ago I read Jennifer Pharr Davis' Becoming Odyssa, her memoir of the time just after college she spent on a solo hike along the Appalachian Trail (AT). Just barely in her twenties, she walked over 2,000 miles completely on her own with only the contents of her backpack to provide for all her needs.

I was captivated. Smitten. Ready to sell everything and find my own answers on the trail.

I've had Appalachian dreams ever since.

Last week, for the research paper I've been working on, I read Wild by Cheryl Strayed. A much different story, but similar setting. At age 26, Strayed spent three months on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) during a solo hike she began in hopes of healing her ruptured life.

Once again, I felt the call to wander out into the world and get lost. Get found. Just get out. Only this time the call was a roar, not a whisper.

I don't have six months to dedicate to the AT, or even three. Although the school year is wrapping up, I'm already registered for a summer session in June. August will be filled with back to school planning days, and a very important 18th birthday party for my Dos.

But I do have a couple of weeks in July.

I did a little searching online to find places I can reach in a day so that the majority of my trip isn't spent in the car. Just a little more than five hours from me is a 218 mile trail in northwest Arkansas called the Ozark Highland Trail (OHT). Backpacker magazine recently spotlighted a section of this trail as one of the nation's best kept hiking secrets.

I'm a hiker!

I have seven days to spend on the trail. I have a new (to me) backpack. I have brand new hiking boots that may have been engineered by rocket scientists. I even have a spiffy new OHT Guidebook to help me plan. And of course, I have The Husband, who would wander off and live in the woods forever if I let him. Upon hearing my plan to take off to parts unknown this summer, he was already packing his gear. So now it is a trip for two.

How ridiculous are these guys?

My goal is to cover as much ground as possible each day, hoping that my target of ten miles a day isn't completely unreachable for someone who, since childhood, has never done anything more than easy campground tent pitching and marshmallow roasting.

We'll see. For now, I keep planning. Collecting gear. Pretending I'm not terrified by the idea of walking into a den of crazed black bears or stepping on a bed of rattlesnakes. Stomping around my neighborhood in my new boots in an attempt to break them in and not spend my trail days crying over my blistered feet.

It feels good to have this adventure on the horizon. It's not a solo hike. It's not months and months away from civilization.

But it's a start.

The wild has been calling, and I'm finally ready to respond.