With the dirt in my toes collected over the past weeks washed away & the matted mess from Northeast Wind gone from my hair, I must say, I’m a little heartbroken.
This past journey put to test all of the traveling experience I’ve acquired. I was most impressed with my ability to hitch 1, 325 in less than 36 hours, Mount Katahdin to Chicago. I even was able to do some Class 5 whitewater rafting & was fearless when jumping 50 feet from the Peak’s Island Pier in Portland.
What was surprising, was realizing how out of touch with nature I had become. I’ve always been one with the woods, but lately haven’t had the chance to slip away from civilization for long periods of time. I fell in love, head over heels with the backwoods.
I’m yearning to swim in that forgotten stream somewhere in the woods, walk barefoot through blankets of moss, watch the sun try it’s hardest to break through the branches of never-ending pine.
My journey’s sole foundation is based on getting lost & not worrying where I may end up, but only the fucking cool shit which will ensue. I’ve wandered many a back road, seen seashore to seashore, even got a tad bit too drunk in the Louisiana Bayou. I have yet to completely let myself go & let the Earth become my road.
After The Van is fully repaired, I have decided to embark on an adventure which will test all survival skills, completely cut myself off from the world. Where & when has yet to be decided. All I know is the road is calling me again, as she always does, luring me deeper into a state of lost.