Change of Plans

I've delayed writing this post for various reasons, but the time has come to get 'er done.

To be right out with it, my traveling companion and I parted ways last week, just after our visit to Foss State Park. I asked to be dropped off at the airport in Oklahoma City, and I flew to Asheville, NC -- where I am now -- to spend a couple of weeks with my beautiful spirit mom Mary.

The decision to cut the road trip short was not an easy one, and it was not arrived at lightly in my mind or heart. As I pondered it all on the plane heading east, I firmly put aside the yackety-yack about failure that wanted to invade my thoughts and instead came up with four solid reasons why I consider the trip a success.

Connecting with Bear. This is something I felt strongly led to do for two years, since a dear friend first mentioned his name. There's nothing quite like looking into the eyes of someone with whom you've connected through emails, phone calls and texts over a period of time. Or getting one of his amazing bear hugs. Highly recommended.

Feeling the freedom of the open road. There was just a sense of rightness about being on the road, able to go and do and be at will -- and as led. The day we drove down from Mt. Lemmon, following my first rather humorous and definitely memorable night in the camper, the sun was shining through the windshield, beautiful evergreens dotted the mountainous landscape around us, cool and sweet mountain air was coming in through the windows, and all felt right with the world. Or at least my world.

In short, I liked it. A lot. And I got confirmation that on the road is indeed where I want and need to be.

Getting more clarity about the rig. I now have a better idea of what is likely too little, too much and just right. A teardrop, though small, lightweight and extremely nimble, would be too small for me on a full-time basis. Definite things I need in a rig of my own: room to stand up and move around; facilities of my own immediately at hand, like a toilet, a shower and an indoor kitchen; a real bed; and room on the roof for solar panels so I can boondock (camp anywhere without electric, water or sewer hookups) at will with modern lighting and juice for my laptop and cell phone if I want it.

Go ahead and call me city girl. I own it now.

Sensing a workable rhythm. I learned that I like a good mix of being out in nature away from it all and connecting with people in civilization. Too much of the former and I'd probably become a grouchy, out-of-touch hermit. Too much of the latter and I'd likely feel a lot like I did at the airport just after parting ways with Bear and still do now, in my spirit -- hemmed in by the world.

While I feel a lot is still up in the air, one thing is for certain: It will be fun to see how all the next steps unfold.