At least a few times a day I find myself teary-eyed, with a lump in my throat.
Mostly, this happens when I realize that something is missing - the sound of a tail wagging against the oven, paws clicking on the floor, or the deep sigh of release Checkers would make when he would curl up in a ball next to my legs. Grief visits me frequently these days.
Boondocking has a few components to it.
The “how” of boondocking is to dry camp - meaning your rig is not hooked up to water, sewer, or electricity. We have spent nights dry camping in a Walmart parking lot (actually called “Wally-docking”), at a Harvest Hosts, Wall Drug, the Petrified Forest, outside the Marfa Lights Viewing Area, or in our friends’ yards. This is not considered boondocking because it is still in an established place and close to amenities.
The “where” of boondocking is usually on dispersed camping land, Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land, or another isolated site. It’s basically camping in the middle of nowhere.
“You should be grateful that ….”
“It could always be worse …”
“Everything happens for a reason …”
“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle …”
These are all cliches I’ve heard far too many times. As a counselor, minister, and chaplain, I have lost count of the number of times these phrases are thrown around. When we say them we mean well - we really do. We want to bring comfort to the people in our lives who are suffering or dealing with challenging things. We want to reassure them that things will be okay.
On December 16th, we hiked in an area of Alpine, Texas where the pups could be off leash, run, and explore. We debated whether the hike was too long for our old man, Checkers, but decided to give it a shot. He had a blast! I haven’t seen him that energetic or happy in awhile. He would run off, and race back to us, panting and smiling and checking in for a pet before heading off to explore some more.
The last time I went to church on Christmas Eve was over ten years ago.
I was in seminary and my then-girlfriend had just proposed that morning. We sat together in the pew, sang carols, lit candles, and soaked it all in. Six months later we would be married in that same church. It was magical.
In some ways, that Christmas was the last time I attended church and didn’t feel “on.”
As a new hiker, I am learning a lot on the trails. I’ve learned which socks are my favorite, how to tie my boots, and that I am much more agile with a hydration pack on my back than carrying a bottle of water. I need to breathe differently on hills than on flat areas, and the teriyaki vegan jerky made by Primal is the best flavor.
I have learned not only about myself but also about human behavior, tendencies, and the things we need to make it through.
The other day we hiked to a place called the Devil’s Bathtub, in the Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota. As usual, We knew that the hike included crossing a stream, so we were prepared with our hiking boots, which are waterproof. As the hike went on, the crossings became more and more complicated. What started as a little hop, skip, and jump across a few rocks became longer processes of deciding which path to take across the rushing waters. Sometimes there were fallen trees to climb past, or large smooth rocks that proved slippery.
One of my favorite parts of travel is experiencing the variety of cultures in the places I visit. When I have traveled internationally, I often sample the popular or common foods in the area, even if they are outside my normal dietary restrictions. I have been vegetarian (and occasionally vegan) for over twelve years, but sometimes I make exceptions in order to experience a particular culture’s delicacy. When I traveled to Madrid I ate ham (on a giant plate of tapas complete with a pint glass of red wine for like 5 Euro). When I was in Croatia I ate seafood (but not octopus because they are brilliant).
Content Warning: mental health, depression, anxiety, addiction
In our culture we want to desperately to have a quick or easy fix to our problems. We want to believe that the right candle or mug of tea will help us feel better. And while I do think these things can boost our mood, they aren’t at the root of what I would call self care.
We knew that one of the perks of RV living is bringing your house with you. You get to travel and see the world and still sleep in the comfort of your own bed, use your own pillow, cook in your own kitchen, etc. As a person who really likes her home environment to be comfy and cozy, this was definitely a “pro” for me!