Rhythms of the Road

Chasing Icebergs, a Reminder of Impermanence

When people hear that we spend months on the road, they often ask whether we intend to become “full-timers.” By which they mean, do we plan to sell our home and live in Big Blue permanently?

The answer is No. Every time we take a trip that answer becomes more emphatic.

As much as we love life on the road, neither of us has any desire to give up the comforts of home. The most important comfort, of course, is the presence of our loved ones. We especially miss our daughters when we’re away.

But we also miss our creature comforts. A long, hot shower. A truly comfortable place to curl up to read or write. Floor space to exercise. A kitchen to make meals that are more than rudimentary.

Of course there are substitute pleasures. I blog about these — the novel places, the interesting conversations, the unusual sights. But that very novelty — the quality that makes this life exciting — can also make this life wearying. Every day is completely new, meaning it requires many decisions, and often many changes of plans. Every route. Every meal. Every gas-tank. Nothing is on repeat, so we experience decision fatigue.

One of our top priorities is putting ourselves in beautiful places where we can hopefully see wildlife. But there is nothing guaranteed about those sightings. On this trip, we are adding the wildcard of chasing icebergs, which are also capricious. They drift into sight, melt, crumble, and float away.

I am well aware that it’s precisely these fickle qualities that make nature-centered travel exciting — Will the whale appear on this boat trip? Will a moose be visible at dusk? Will the clouds create a perfect sunset this evening?

One of the dangers of blogging is that we tend to record the highlights. But travel is never a string of wonderful adventures. There are high moments, but also low ones. And many longer stretches that are simply tedious or frustrating.

Life continues, whether we’re on the road or not. Like all of you, we read the news each day and there is always cause for concern. A week ago we heard difficult news about a dear friend’s diagnosis. Susan is much on our mind. Another dear travel friend, Kevin, comes to our mind often on this trip. He died unexpectedly last December, years younger than we are. (Here’s a post about traveling with him.)

We are both in our late sixties and harbor no fantasies about our own invincibility. Precisely the opposite. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” says the preacher in Ecclesiastes 1:2. Meaning that this, too, shall pass.

Chasing icebergs is a good reminder of the beauty of impermanence.

I’m sure you’ve experienced these same rhythms while you’ve traveled. How do you notice and respond to them?