Home

It’s roughly 2 am on August 12th, my un-brushed hair is itchy under my toque and tip of my nose is a bit cold due to the cool breeze coming up off Astonin Lake. There is sand in my sleeping bag and my camera already but that’s to be expected considering I set up my little camp only a few feet from the water on the beach in an attempt to capture some photographs of the yearly meteoroid shower. The mosquitos are relentless and like a true blonde I forgot bug spray… genius. Despite the bugs and the sand and the cold (It’s 10C - I know it’s not THAT cold, however, it is mid August and I’m sleeping outside and I kind of expected better of August. I’m a little disappointed to be honest) and the knowledge that I have to be at work in a few hours…I’m truly enjoying myself. Besides my nose, I’m warm in my sleeping bag and I’m laying under the shooting stars, watching the Northern Lights and the Perseids meteor shower. It’s in that moment that it hits me…that I have a hint of an idea…the tiniest fragment a thought I’ve had over and over, an inkling or a feeling that seems like it has always been there, one that constantly creeps back into my dreams, and tugs at my heart strings during moments of boredom or wanderlust; the sort of thing that sounds like a fantasy, that fits snugly in my imagination but will never come to fruition. The kind of adventure you see other people doing and think “good for them” “maybe one day” …and then BAM, like one of those elusive meteoroids it hits me. It’s not an idea, it’s not a thought, it’s not a dream, it’s a calling.

What is this idea? This dream, this thought or calling…this adventure!

It’s just that. An adventure. My adventure.

Let me start from the beginning (sort of) ok, well let’s just go back a bit…

I love to travel – Woah! so does every other human in North America - Shocker there. Yes, we all love it, at least everyone I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing loves it. Since I was little, I’ve been able to go with my family and friends to far off and exotic places and I’ve adored every second of it. Every new place offering up its experiences and lessons and freedom. All of these adventures, I’ve revelled in the moments I’ve had and privileges and lessons they’ve provided. I cringe at some of the decisions I’ve made, and on occasion wondered at how I’m still here to tell these stories. Just like everyone else, I have had journeys and adventures but there is just one glaring anomaly, one huge difference that I experienced that contrasts from that of everyone I’ve ever met. You ask any one of those people and they will tell you, breathlessly, their pupils dilating, excitement on the tips of their tongues…about the cultures they lived in, the people they met and places they went - but all of them. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Will tell you, that no matter where they went, for how long, or how they just can’t wait to go back…it’s always great to come home. HOME

I’ve never felt that.

Ever.

That’s the realization I made under the Perseids that night in the sand at Elk Island National Park. I’m not home.

I’ve never come “home” from a trip. I’m always unsettled. Restless. Never content.

I’ve come back to Canada, yes, Canada is my home, the Mountains are my home…I’ve come “home” to the comfort of the familiar, “home” to my parents, my friends or into the loving arms of another person - never a house. Never an exact place. I’ve felt “home” in moments, in situations or with people, but never completely. Never consistently HOME.

For me it doesn’t exist. Maybe it never will and that’s ok. However, if that place does exist I’m going to find it. And that is where and why this journey starts.

Finding home. Or not. Either way.

I realized that to find this “home” (or not) I need to leave. I’m not happy, I haven’t been happy for a very long time. Don’t for a second be confused about this, I am by no means UN-happy…I am just not HAPPY. I’m content, comfortable. Resigned to just keep coasting along in my routines, my pleasant life, waiting for something to finally feel right. For something to happen next, for life to stop being so mundane.  For the next party, or outing, for the boyfriend, the husband, the house, the kids, the white picket fence… but that’s not me, that’s not life. That’s not what I want…not right now. Maybe never. And I don’t want to just sit around and wait for my life to happen. I want to create it. I have to create it.

So I am. And only I can do this for me… so I will.

Starting now-ish.

But I digress.

It’s now 3 am, I’m still on the beach, being eaten by mosquitos, I’m doubting that I’ve even got one good photo of the meteors… and I form my plan: I’ll quit my job, load up the Jeep and set off to the East coast and down into the States. Stopping along the way to hike and kayak and enjoy nature and the earth and the sky. That is it. That is all…no actual process or plan on how this is all going to work – just The Plan. “Great plan” I whisper to myself as I fall asleep. And even thought it’s not a plan at all, I genuinely mean it.

5 30 am – my fucking alarm goes off.

2 and half hours of sleep … great. Did I mention that August 12th is a Friday – I had traveled an hour east of Edmonton to attempt to photograph the meteor shower and now have to get to work at 8 30 am. I got 2.5 hours of sleep. I am going to be delightful. My hair still isn’t brushed.

Fortunately for the sake of humanity, the beach is desolate and I am on my own to eat a few granola bars, run a comb through my hair and brush my teeth. Once the vehicle is packed, I am in a slightly better mood and I head off down “bison loop”. I am able to snap a few images of the heard from the safety of the Jeep. The Bison are all over the road and surrounding brush, foraging in the fog for breakfast. The Elk Island heard is wild but pretty docile and meander out of the path of the Jeep as I slowly crawl along, snapping pictures. The calves jumped around and put on a show however, the adults barely offer me a sideways glance as they continue eating.

And through the morning fog, winding around the heard of bison…the idea comes back to me. “oh yes, I’m going on an adventure!” No questions, no doubt, not a single hesitation. The Plan. This is happening. So I start making lists…first things first: Can the Jeep make the trip? Best not to quit my job until I know if I have to spend a couple thousand on a new vehicle. How will I fit everything? Do I have the money for this? Where should I go? How long should I go for? Should I really quit my job? it’s a great job, people are being laid off all the time, is this smart? No… although I’m rarely accused of being smart. Does it need to be smart? No, it just needs to happen.

All of these questions strove to distract me, tried to make me call it quits before I even started. Settled those seeds of doubt in my “Great Plan”. But this idea was more than them, more than that.

And now we are here. And I’m making it happen.

I’m going to stop letting life get in the way of me living my life. I’ve start in earnest to get this show on the road. I’ve stripped Foxy (the Jeep… I call her Foxy because she’s boxy) of her back seat, her carpets and extra parts, she’s had a tune up and she is good to go! She’ll be getting a roof rack soon enough and a custom interior. More on her later... For now, the first step is completed. No more doubt (actually a ton of doubt, though nothing I can’t handle), the countdown is on.

Exactly when and where I go first is still up in the air, you’ll know when I know. The important thing is, I’m going.

I know this post was a long one, but it took a long time to get here.

Thank you for joining me, I hope we’re together for a long, long time.

Also since my parents are probably the only ones who will be reading this: “Hey Mom and Dad!”