We got home September 27 after travelling on the scoot over 7500 miles and 22 states. We also took a couple of trains, a boat and made some trips in cars. It was the opportunity of a life time. An adventure that people dream of, but never seem to take. We heard that over and over from people who wanted to stop and talk to us when they saw we were on a Harley with out of state tags. They were amazed and intrigued by our trip. More then once we heard couples walking away talking about how they had always talked about doing the same kind of trip and how now it was too late.
It is interesting to have strangers walk up to you and within a few minutes are telling you their hearts desires. Like we were magical fairy godparents who could make their dreams come true. Maybe they were able to whisper hopes to us, strangers, that they could not tell family and friends.
I was amazed how easy it was to do. I do not mean that it wasn't physically challenging at times. Or that it wasn't a lot of work unpacking and repacking the scoot and trailer everyday. That sitting for 6, 8, 10 hours or more riding for 300 - 500 miles a day did not wear on us. But to get to see this beautiful country. To travel where you are in the environment. No air conditioning when we drove through the Mojave desert. No heater when we headed out some mornings and the temps were in the 30s. No air filter to protect us from the smoke in Montana that burned our eyes, nose and throat. No roof if it rained, but we only had a moment of rain for the entire trip. The smells of the trees, vegetation, the soil and rocks. The smell of water running down a sheer rock wall. The smell of the mossy, fern fens of black organic soils around the base of the giant redwoods. The perception of sizes and distance as we rode up the Oregon coast line. Riding among the coastal redwoods as we slipped through the sun shaded world. To be so small, so close to the earth compared to the tops of of the branches soaring up through the blue of the sky to touch the clouds. Then to fly out of the middle earth to the top of the planet as you look done the Pacific coast line. Rough rocky cliffs dropping away from the road we swooped along. The marine layer rolling up the vertical cliffs on to the road and up the next cliff. Fingers of thick heavy gray clouds masking our view of the Pacific far below us. Now we were the giants in the clouds looking down to the rocks below, tiny in our perception from the precarious perch. On a trip like this, we are the journey we are so much a part of it. Traveling is like that, sometimes you are on a trip and you are so in the moment. Enjoying the adventure, not missing the journey because of the end.
Today I sit in the funky little beach cottage on St. George. I am at the beach. I am at the beach with my Vicki and Nancy. Vicki and I are home. We have white sand under our feet, in our clothes, scrubbing us clean and still stuck to the back of our legs. We have walked the beach and watched sunsets and storms rumbling across the Gulf towards us. We saw blue skies today, and gray clouds yesterday. We have walked in the rain, and we have bent over waves of shells, bags whipping in the wind as we choose our most favorite ones to take home. I am drawn to shells with worm holes in them. Some day I will make jewelry with these shells. In fact, today, our last full day, I did go through my shells and pick out some to make necklaces to wear as we leave this place that holds our hearts. I strung glass and wooden beads on earthy colored hemp line with shells at the heart of the necklace. Necklaces I have worn over a life lived by the gulf.
Bug rode his red Harley over from Lamont to spend the day and night before heading back this morning to check on the animals. It rained while he was here. We walked on the beach in the rain. We sat on a bench on the beach watching the rain and the gulf and sand. Gray, rain, storm and the Gulf. Simply beautiful and one of my favorite ways to spend time on the beach. This is October, not August. This is fall. The weather can be angrier as we transition from summer to winter.
A summer of travelling. Thousands of miles, more then two thirds of the states in this beautiful country. So diverse, so beautiful. So much to see and enjoy. Wild flowers in Arizona, desert in the Mojave, Rocky Mountains, the northern plains, the grasslands, the Pacific ocean, the Gulf of Mexico. Friends and family. It was just the most wonderful and very best adventure I have ever taken. And those of you who know me, know I have had some pretty wonderful adventures. And so has Bug. Maybe that is why it felt so "easy". It is natural for us to travel. To plan and plot routes. To look for places to stay when we make a goal. How to make the miles, without pushing yourself too hard. To stop and enjoy the journey. To go to the Grand Canyon, Yosemite National Park, Santa Fe, Flagstaff, San Francisco and the redwoods.
To dream a dream and then share it with someone. To share it with someone who loves to travel, who you enjoy spending time with. To learn about each other and places you go. To share seeing things so that both get to see things important to each. And to get to share them together. We have been home for a week now. Most of that time I have been at the beach, not our little place in the woods. But I am home, I am back in Florida and on the Gulf. But I long to be back in Jefferson County with Bug and the animals, the kids. My gardens and our life there. My friends with the Stage Company and the Garden Circle. The precious people at the Art League. Back to Monticello. But I need to put our last trip here on this blog. So that I can go back and relive parts of the adventure. To remember things previously missed or forgotten. So when I get home tomorrow and get settled back at home in my lovely little world. I will start posting a few photos and to try and remember as much of our adventure as I can.
What a wonderful summer filled with spending time with sweet precious friends and family. But I miss my friends and family back home. I look forward to sharing this fall and holiday season with them. I have missed them, and I am coming home.