I’ve got itchy feet again, whatever the hell that means.
It’s been two years now since I pounded proverbial stakes in the ground, parked a bus named Freedom, and took on a property caretaking gig, a gig which provided the basics I needed for my simple lifestyle, a simple lifestyle which includes Maggie, my loving dog and constant companion.
Two years!
What I’ve noticed about itchy feet, at first, you really don’t notice the itch. One settles into a new situation, a new environment, becomes established, and the desire to travel fades into the background, occasionally thought about but not really any urgency whatsoever.
Slowly, glacier slow, the itch returns, usually during the quiet of night, just a man and his thoughts, thinking of the magnificent times on the road, the new people encountered, the new sights marveled at, the wondrous feeling of not being tethered and, well, here we are.
The caretaking gig will end on the 24th of August, moving to a farm called Lost Peacock, family-owned and operated, truthfully the place I have spend every single day for the past eighteen months or so, a more comfortable environment, nice to be with “family” daily, nice to not be alone, there’s comfort in that fact, of course, me aging, unsure at times of my footing, literally and figuratively . . . but still, the itch that won’t go away.
So, I talked it over with Maggie, the best traveling companion a man could ask for, and we’ve decided we need to get away for ten days or so, hit the road again, once again marvel at sights, once again encounter new people, once again feel untethered.
October 1st, I’m thinking, hot weather behind us, just before late fall miserable weather, changing colors and all that, a great time for traveling.
Where to?
I’m thinking head east, drive for five days, turn around and head “home.” That’s about as detailed as I can give you right now. Maybe follow the Oregon Trail in reverse, see how far we go. Maybe follow the Lewis & Clark route, again in reverse, see the wonders that they saw over two hundred years ago.
There was a time, not that long ago, where I considered living on the road, constantly roaming this country, following fair weather, avoiding nasty rain and snow, and a part of me still thinks that’s the only answer for an introvert of my stature . . . but . . . I know I would get lonely and, truth be told, it’s kind of nice at the Lost Peacock farm, I’m appreciated there, I feel I serve a purpose. So, I think a compromise is called for, a home base for most of the year, periodic wanderlust every few months, nothing major, just enough to quiet the voices in my head and scratch the itch.
Wherever we go, one thing is for certain: Maggie and I will be blown away by the wonder of it all.
Of course, we will take you with us, share as much of it with you all as possible and then, once we return to Lost Peacock, ten or so days later, maybe the itch will subside for a while, and this restless nomad will settle into a new routine, surrounded by love, the inner voices stifled for a bit.
Maggie nods in agreement. She thinks it’s a splendid plan, as do I.
You are always welcome, on any of our Travels with Maggie (and Bill). You can find us, daily, where the pavement ends and the wonders begin.
Happy Trails to you all!
Bill
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