Back Home in Ashland, Oregon

"Welcome Home," compliments of friend and neighbor, Kim

Lil' Red tucked safely back in her parking place

Sorry for dropping the ball on the blog. As Erin and I had completed our journey, I didn't believe any more entries were necessary . . . and yet I don't want to tell an incomplete tale. What is a story, after all, without a beginning, middle and end? (I'm keenly aware of this immutable construction, as I try to finish my book, "Under One Roof.")

After five months and over 10,000 miles, we have reoccupied our little mountain home here in Ashland, Oregon. I did a count a few days ago and determined that we slept in over 27 different beds, ranging in comfort from the divine to the borderline criminal. Some were full-sized beds, many were queens and we even a partook in a king bed at Erin's folk's house. I am happy to report we avoided the scourge of bed bugs, although the tiny no-see-ums in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, which were smaller than the screening on our West Coast tent, did subject savage cruelty on my person (I counted over thirty bites on my right calf alone).

While on the subject of camping, we slept in our tent (using a queen-sized air mattress and nifty two-person sleeping bag) for almost a combined month, ranging from single night stays, particularly while on the move from one destination to another, and stays from four nights upwards of a week in the Northern Cascades, Acadia National Park and on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Our greatest accomplishment, I believe, is that not only are we still talking to each other, but Erin and I as happy together as we've ever been.

Maybe I'll post another blog or two about favorites of the trip (favorite campsite, favorite meal, etc.) and the lessons learned, particularly for those who may be entertaining thoughts of a similar trip. But for the time being, now that we're back home, I've mostly been thinking about what it is I love about where we live. This is a natural question to ask oneself after seeing so much beauty throughout this country. Here's a few pictures of our town and surrounding area, by way of explaining why we love living here:

Dropping down from the Siskiyou Summit into the Rogue Valley on Interstate #5

The view of the Cascade Mountains from Scene Drive, a few blocks above our house

A view of the Siskiyou Mountains on the other side of the Rogue Valley

A picture I took from the ski-lift of Mount Ashland a few winters back (yes it is that beautiful)

Also, here's a few pictures on the road from Boulder, Colorado to Oregon:

Driving through Utah

And back on our old friend in Nevada - The Loneliest Road in America

And our lonely campsite at the Petroglyphs - our last day on the road

Westward Ho (*UPDATED)

Bar Harbor, Maine to Ashland, Oregon: 3,449.2 miles

 

Our marching orders issued from Mapquest

There comes a time in every journey when one's wanderlust begins to dissipate and thoughts of hearth and home begin to drown out the road's siren song, and it becomes increasingly obvious that it's time to return home. That time has arrived. We would have liked to meander down the coast of Maine, perhaps as far as Cape Cod in Massachusetts, pitching our tent for another week to week-and-a-half, but frequent rain, cooler weather and financial considerations have finally tipped the scales homeward. Also -- to come right out with it -- we're both homesick. So after four-and-a-half months of vagabonding about this great country, we've decided to point our car towards the setting sun and press on home. We had almost headed back right after our stay in Massachusetts, after the jolt of cool damp weather first assaulted us, but Acadia has been our goal since the very beginning, so we managed to hang in there for another week. We're glad we did and yet we eventually woke up one morning and, as we were planning the day, came to the simultaneous realization that we were just bidding our time. So it's with not a small degree of ambivalence and sadness that we have begun the slow crawl across the map . . .

 

On The Road Again

After a 10-day stop-over in Ashland, we're on the move again. We are on the longer leg of our 5 month road-trip, this leg taking us through Colorado to the Midwest (mostly Chicago and Wisconsin) and then on to the South (Georgia and North Carolina) and up the East Coast for fall colors in New England in late-September through mid-October. We stopped in Ashland mostly because Erin had her annual gig up in the Greensprings, providing massage for the participants of a contemplative retreat, but it was also a good opportunity to see friends and neighbors, recharge our batteries and check in on Dallas. We were very happy to see that Dallas has adapted quite well (too well?) to the capable care of Shel and Paula. They've taken to dog ownership remarkably well and Dallas appears happy, healthy and well-fed (although not too well-fed, as they are much more disciplined than I am about giving table scraps) . . .

Dallas mesmerized by the contents of my food bowl

Derek is doing well in Sweden with his girlfriend, Bella. They're staying with Bella's parents in the suburbs of Stockholm and taking occasional trips into the city, to Denmark and other points throughout Sweden. They'll be flying back in to Chicago in mid-August when we're there and they'll be there for ten days before flying on to Portland, where they're moving (they were down in Santa Barbara, California before). Bella will attend a college up there (on a student Visa) and Derek will be doing clothing design for Aedion, a skateboard company.

Bella and Derek

So anyhoo, Erin and I took one of our favorite drives on our way down to Durango, Colorado -- Highway 50, the so-called "Loneliest Road in America," which runs right through the center of Nevada (west to east), close to the old Pony Express Trail in the Basin and Range province of the Great Basin. It's an infrequently traveled road that runs through a sparse and, to us, awesomely beautiful and captivating, desert landscape. The road climbs over numerous passes (ranging from 4,000 to 7,500 feet in elevation) and down into a seemingly endless succession of broad, arid valleys. It's probably not for everybody -- I've talked to a few people who think that it's mind-numbingly tedious -- but Erin and I were in a fairly constant state of awe and delight. Here's the Wiki-link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_50_in_Nevada.

A ribbon of glistening highway beckons us towards the horizon

And a short video of the typical landscape outside my window:

 Back Home!!! (for 10 days)

The view yesterday of the Siskiyou Mountains from Erin's studio over the top of our house

Our deck up here -- not too painful

After 2,600 miles, 4 weeks of travel, half a dozen campsites, a vacation resort, one hotel room and an apartment in Victoria, we're back in Erin's studio (on the second floor of the coach house). It feels at once as if we just left and we've been gone for ages. Perhaps one of the oddest feelings now that we're back is that we aren't in our house. It's a strange sensation returning home, but not really home. I liken it to heading back home after an extended trip and stopping at your neighbor's house, just shy of your ultimate destination. I keep repeating to myself my mantra for this journey: "When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge."

Stay tuned -- I plan on posting some more of my book.

In the beginning

"Be careful what you wish for, you might get it."

These are words that I have repeated to myself numerous times over the last several months as I've pondered a scheme that Erin and I cooked up last summer over a few bottles of wine with Paula and Shel, out-of-town friends who mentioned that they were looking to stay in Ashland for five months over this summer. "Why don't you stay in our house!" we both said, the wine sloshing out of our glasses. We'd been thinking about renting out our house and traveling for an extended period of time and this seemed like the perfect union of supply (our house) and demand (Paula and Shel's desire for an Ashland home for several months). The details were hashed out over the course of a few weeks and eventually a working, and mostly sober, plan emerged. They'd rent our house from the first of June to the end of October, and we'd clear out our personal possessions (with the exception of one dangerously cluttered closet), leaving our furniture, artwork, books, TV, etc. The one notable exception: Dallas, our fifteen-year-old mutt -- who does not enjoy a trip across town let alone across the country -- would remain at home, under their loving care.

So . . . eventually the day dawned when we found ourselves minus a home, with a cherry bomb red 2004 Toyota Matrix as our temporary abode (and a minor addition on top, in the form of a Thule cargo box).

And so we hit the road.

Ready to hit the road

This is our (partially tentative) plan:  A week in Sunriver, Oregon, visiting the wonderful Williams family (John, Jill, Jackson and Jenna) who happened to have an extra room in their vacation home east of the Cascades > a brief stop in Eugene to see some friends on the way to the coast  > northwards along the coast up to Victoria on Vancouver Island, to stay with Jenny, our Australian friend, who is house-sitting for friends of hers there > back to the mainland for a few nights in a nice hotel in Vancouver by Stanley Park > eastward to Banff and Lake Louise for some northern Rockies camping adventures > then back down south across the eastern parts of Washington and Oregon until we return to Ashland by July 18th, or thereabouts. Erin has a work commitment, providing massage at a retreat up in the Greensprings for a week and from there . . . who knows where.(Okay, we have a pretty good idea where, but stay tuned anyway.)