I have never been a “morning person,” though I find while here at Mittry Lake, the wee small hours of the morning just before dawn have become my favorite time of day. The heat has long subsided into cool, heavy dew that hovers over the lake. I can almost feel the weight of the cooler air as it seeps through my windows in my corner bed, pressing me ever further beneath the covers. The coolness of the night is one of the things I have learned to cherish about the desert. No matter how warm the bright and sunny day, the nights are guaranteed to be good for hibernation. Nothing exposed except fingertips moving hastily across the keyboard and eye glasses peeking out reflecting the blue glow of the laptop screen.
I am camped right alongside the canal, which becomes a cacophony of birdsong as soon as the ink black sky begins to lighten, and the dark silhouettes of the mountains recede. It is the one time the birds get to sing without competing for air time with generators, car engines, boat motors, and the noisy neighbors here in the Mittry Lake compound.
The sky is a rare gray, low-lying cloud cover this morning. I even heard half a dozen raindrops on the roof before sunrise. There will be no streaks of pink, lavender, and orange to paint the monochrome sky today. How appropriate that it should coordinate gray to match my mood. I am once again somber over the thought of saying goodbye to my nomadic tribe. Some goodbyes will be longer than others, as our paths turn different pages across the chapters of our lives. It is my last morning here in Mittry Lake, a place where I have stayed longer than any place in my two years of full timing. But as Tracey Chapman would sing, “Leave tonight or live and die this way.”
It’s been a great time here meeting new friends, putting names and faces with blog titles, and catching up with the PNW caravan from last summer. Nomadic goodbyes seem harder to me than saying goodbye in my past life. Having moved almost 20 times over the years, you would think I had it down by now. But as many have observed, nomadic friendships are a bit more “concentrated.” You must meet fast, connect quickly, and savor the fun while it lasts. Like time itself, friendships are always fleeting.
There have been times of reflection and self-examination when I wonder… am I really a loner? Or just someone who avoids the emotional pain of goodbyes? I think it all depends on the company.
The desert reveals many discoveries…
I have enjoyed your blog for many months but just realized today what a good story teller you are becoming. That was not intended as a backhanded compliment. In the past I feel like I was focused on the content of your postings from the point of view of someone considering this lifestyle for myself and internalizing only those things that might effect decisions I would have to make. For example, to tow or not to tow, how to stay virtually connect, or do I try to earn money while full timing. Now I am noticing how you describe a sunrise or an interesting cacti. You are an excellent writer! I thought spreadsheets were your forte. I envy your past, current and future hiking adventures. When I picture my retirement, I most associate with the daily life you are projecting in your blog. Small moments of site seeing, meeting like minded people on your terms and experiencing the joy of hiking. Thank you for sharing.
Hi Kathy,
We don’t know each other but share a common love for “take to the highway”. If you haven’t seen it, you should download the travel book. It takes you on such great journeys, while sharing the feelings of Suzanne….beautiful.
Glad I can’t write that well. You some things up perfectly.
Kathy, thank you so very much for such a touching post! If my writing helps others dream and plan like others helped me, then I am delighted!
Love this post! Concentrated friendships, indeed! That is spot on, and we aren’t even full timers. You must know how much Tom and I admire your ‘sisu’. That’s a Finnish word (Tom is a Finn) meaning, as near as I can tell, gumption–intestinal fortitude–and determination. I think.
Anyway, you’ve got it. Keep it up!
Thanks, Corinne –I love you and Tom so much, it makes me glad my awning broke! 😉
I agree – totally – with the above comments about your writing. There really IS something special about it. You are able to evoke the past “fulltimer” in me, and make the tear ducts a bit overactive. I am living the fulltimer life again through your photos and prose. I know the effort is substantial to provide so many of us with these pleasures, and I want to thoroughly thank you! ;->
Virtual hugs,
Judie
Judie — there is no higher compliment to someone who loves to write than to hear their story evokes good memories. Thank you for being such a long time supporter!
We miss you, too! In fact on a trail today with a new hiking buddy we must have said a dozen times, ” Too bad Suzanne isn’t here, she would have loved this hike!”
Seriously, Jim didn’t say “Suzanne WHO?” 😉
You’ve been making so many memories – thank goodness for these blog posts. I can tell you, you’ll be needing a “search” button in the future to go back in time and check out the places you’ve been so far. (That was a weird sentence, but you know what I mean.) I love your photos and look forward to seeing where you’re going next. And I agree – your writing skills are awesome! 🙂
Thank you, Barbara — I loved it when Kim said “I will need something to read when I am in the nursing home.” haha!! Hope you and Katie are still enjoying your new spot!
Leaving good friends behind on the road is one of the tough parts, for sure! But there are always new friends to make as you travel around:) Hopefully, we will meet up somewhere along the way soon:)
Thanks for your comment on Mark’s blog. Good to know about the kayaking. Did you use an inflatable kayak? We have the new Sea Eagle which we haven’t used much.
Pam, I did the paddle in the Sea Eagle 330, the cheapest one. Easy to go all over the lake….it is very small. And VERY scenic! There is a small boat ramp at the end of the road, and one day a week is FREE admission to the park. (I think Tues or Weds) I look forward to reading about your time there.
It’s a funny thing being a loner and yet still part of a nomadic tribe.
Gaelyn, it always makes me laugh about a guy in a bar once who said, “I’m a loner too. We can be loners together!” haha! Thanks for stopping by…
Love your description of nomadic friendships and goodbyes.
Thanks, Contessa — I am hoping for another “nomadic hola” when you and Colin head back north…
Another favorite post. Photos, friends, feelings always tug at my heart.
So for the folks that like your writing I will supply the link.
http://www.amazon.com/Alone-but-Never-Lonely-Backpacks-ebook/dp/B006WOKCRY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425347065&sr=8-1&keywords=Alone+but+never+lonely
I read it a while ago and loved it.
Friendships aren’t really fleeting only our time together. The great thing about friendships that really click is that regardless of how much time goes by the reunions start as if there was no lost time.
Always looking forward to the next reunion.
Jim
P. S. Debbie, of course, is dead to us.
Lots of great discoveries in the rocks and cactus of the desert, as well as in the solitude of your little home. Few discoveries are as profound as those we make about ourselves. For me, the difference between craving solitude and craving company is like the ocean and the desert. Both are wonderful in their differences – both are missed when experiencing the other. Great post and pics as always. Thanks for sharing.
Awesome blog, we enjoyed every bit of it. thanks