A year ago I celebrated the new year by jumping in a hole in the ice of a frozen lake in Minnesota.  The year that followed pretty much mirrored the experience.  2009 was filled with rushes of adrenaline followed by just trying to keep my head above water while swimming to the other side.

I raced around the country, completed my goal of road tripping all the lower 48 states, saved sea turtles while camping on the beach of Padre Island, hiked the Grand Canyon, went flying over the San Juan Islands, and much more that I have not blogged about.  While doing all of this the past year I have not lived anywhere for more than two months.  Until now.

January 2010 marks my third month of living in Berkeley.  The transition from living a nomadic lifestyle to becoming a Californian with no plans of leaving has been difficult to say the least — a bit like struggling to keep my head above water in a frozen lake in Minnesota.

I have finally emerged on the other side – climbed out of the hole in the ice and landed in “sunny” California.  And after all of the struggle I don’t know what to do with myself.  I feel like a fish out of water and can’t quite find my sea legs.

This year I rang in the new year in Tahoe and managed to capture a couple crappy photos on my iPhone before nearly being trampled by a drunken mob.

In the middle of drunken mob life is totally out of your control.  The only way out is to go with the flow and eventually emerge safely on the street.

If the pattern holds and this year mirrors the way I rang in the new year, 2010 will be the year of going with the flow and emerging from the pack.  Here’s to letting go and riding the wave in 2010.  Surfs up.

Nora Dunn over at The Professional Hobo is doing a series profiling a week in the life of long-term travelers.  She asked me to contribute a post to the series.  Check it out:

A Week in the Life of Sue: Road Schooled

After you read about how much I cram into a week on the road you’ll understand why I haven’t posted this week.  The past week I was traveling from the Seattle area where I spent the summer to the San Francisco Bay area which is my base camp for the foreseeable future. Therefore I haven’t had much time to blog.

I travel fast.  I like it that way because when I slow down I get bored and antsy.  But I don’t recommend traveling as fast as I do for most people.

As a matter of fact one of the pieces of advice I would give to a newbie long-term travelers is to slow down and try not to cram in too much.  And if you want to travel fast like I do, pick a few places to stay more than a day.  In my case for the week in the life post I was traveling fast for a week, but I started at Padre Island National Seashore where I had been camping on the beach for 6 weeks and ended at the Grand Canyon where I camped for about a week (for free!).

The week in my life that took me from Padre Island to the Grand Canyon was in April.  In the 4 months since then I have traversed the Pacific coast from San Diego, California to Vancouver, British Columbia with weeks long pit stops in Santa Cruz, Portland, and Seattle.

And now I’m in the Bay area writing this post from a coffee shop in San Rafael.    A year ago San Rafael was a pit stop.  I lived here for two months last summer.  In the year that has passed not much has changed in San Rafael.  But I have changed a lot.

A year in life of Sue post may read a bit differently than my week in the life post.  The past year was one of the best and worst years of my life.  And now life has come completely full circle and I’m sitting here writing this post in a coffee shop where I sat a year ago.  Everything looks the same yet totally different. Traveling changed my perspective.

I wonder what life will look like a year from now after spending a year living in the same place.

Four years ago today I packed up my car with camping gear and set out to explore the United States. It has been a wild ride of ups and downs through 47 states and more than 30 National Parks. To celebrate my four year anniversary of hitting the road I thought I’d share a few things I learned along the way.

1. Be crazy….or courageous.

When I packed up my car with camping gear and left my life behind to explore what else was out there a lot of people told me I was crazy. Or they said I was courageous. Or maybe a little bit of both. There is a fine line between being crazy and courageous. Crazy knows no boundaries, no limits, no fear. Courage is stepping past boundaries and limits, self-imposed or otherwise, in the face of fear. Regardless of whether people think I’m crazy or courageous, solo road tripping the United States is one of the best things I have ever done. Take bold steps forward, even when people call you crazy.

2. Pick a direction and be flexible.

Long-term travel never goes according to plan, almost to the point that it doesn’t pay to plan everything out. I generally travel for about two months at a time before taking some sort of break. If I tried to plan out every detail I would never go anywhere. I would be in a perpetual state of planning my big trip that never happens. Don’t worry about all the details. If you wait for everything to be perfect you’ll never go. Pick a direction, prepare as best you can, and then go.

3. Be good to yourself.

Long-term solo travel is wearing at times. I do all the driving, planning, tent set-up / take-down, etc. There is no one to help me out when I’m tired or sick. Without my health I could not have done what I did. Your health is precious. Take care of yourself.

4. Adversity builds strength and character.

Solo road tripping the United States has been one of the highest growth phases of my life. Life on the road is roller coaster of exceedingly high highs and almost unbearable lows at times. While the high points were exciting, most of my growth came out of dealing with the lows. Adversity is an opportunity for growth. Embrace it.

5. Always have something to look forward to.

Sometimes life on the road by myself sucks. Bad weather, sickness, and car breakdowns happen and there is no one there to lean on in the bad times. I try to live in the moment but when life in the moment isn’t going well looking down the road boosts my spirits. Things always get better eventually. Hope in a brighter tomorrow gets you through the bad times.

6. Simplify.

Before hitting the road I put all my possessions in storage except for what fit in my car. When I first hit the road I missed some of my stuff, but the longer I was on the road I enjoyed the simplicity of not having a lot of stuff. By simplifying my life so drastically my definition of essential items changed. Doing without makes you realize what is important. You need less than you think.

7. Let go of who you think you should be to become who you are.

I’m still working on this one – easier said than done. Solo road tripping across the country is not a normal thing for a girl to do. If I had let societal norms dictate my direction I would never have packed up my car with camping gear and had the adventure of a lifetime. Before I hit the road I defined myself too narrowly and held too much of my identity in my career. On the road I gave myself room to grow and my definition of myself broadened. If you give yourself room to grow, you can become more than you can imagine.

8. Life gives you what you need, which is not necessarily what you want.

I used to hate it when I didn’t get what I wanted. But in retrospect, more often than not what I wanted wasn’t really what I needed. Life gives you what you need even if you can’t see it in the moment. Accept what life gives you and go with the flow. Everything happens for a reason.

9. Enjoy the journey.

I used to live for the big payoff. I would endure drudgery hoping it would payoff in the end. If you don’t like what you are doing day to day on the journey to your big goal you probably won’t like your life any better once you achieve that goal. The big payoff won’t be what you imagined and may even lead to more drudgery. Do what you love and enjoy the ride. Eventually you’ll get where you need to be.

10. Happiness is best when shared.

The more I solo travel the easier it is to handle the hard times. I count on my experience to get me through and always know that better times are ahead. Conversely, the more I solo travel the harder the good times become. I could spend the rest of my life traveling from beautiful location to beautiful location but without people to share with it starts to feel empty after a while. When I first started solo traveling it was about my own personal development and exploring new places. Somewhere along the way it became more about others and people rather than places.  Share the ride and give back to society.

The other day I was sitting atop the Space Needle in Seattle drinking a soy latte after a day of sightseeing.  There was an antsy teenage girl next to me whining to go do something else, anything else, rather than sit there looking out the window.  BORING.  Her mom exasperatedly said -

“This is  a once in a lifetime moment.  You never know when or if you will ever be here again.  Enjoy the view.”

The teenage girl begrudgingly sat down, crossed her arms, and stared at the floor.

They made me think about what constitutes a ‘once in a lifetime moment.’  It is easy to define and enjoy the big once in a lifetime moments in your life – traveling to a new location, your wedding day, birth of a child, graduation, etc.  But what about all the other moments?

Technically this is a once in a lifetime moment for you.  You are sitting somewhere reading this post for the first time.  This moment in time will never happen again exactly as it is happening now.  Sure you could read the post again but you will already know how the story ends.

Once in a lifetime moments are every moment.  The big moments are memorable.  But what about the little moments?  They may not be as memorable but they are just as precious and often under-appreciated.

When people ask me where is my favorite place I have traveled I always have a hard time answering that question.  Long-term travel isn’t about a location or a place or a big once in a lifetime moment.  It is about the journey.  All the moments – big, small, and in between.

Every moment is a once in a lifetime moment.  Enjoy the journey.

San Juan Islands by Air

San Juan Islands by Ferry

San Juan Islands by Foot

When I was flying over the San Juan Islands I had no clue I would walk through a sculpture garden with a dragonfly in flight.  From the air I grasped the big picture of the islands but had no conception of the details hiding beneath the tree canopies.  And on land I discovered  some intricate details of the San Juans but missed the big picture of the layout of the islands.  If I had been dropped off in the the sculpture garden with a blindfold on I wouldn’t even have known I was on an island.

One of the things I love about travel is that it provides a different perspective.  But at the same time you can gain a different perspective of your own neighborhood just by looking at it in a different way.  Maybe by taking a different mode of transport – walking instead of driving or taking the bus.  Or maybe just by talking to the guy on the street that you pass everyday.

At one time in my life I aspired to see the San Juan Islands.  But now that I have seen the San Juan Islands by air, ferry, and foot,  I aspire to look at the familiar places in my life from the multiple perspectives I take when traveling.  By looking at the familiar from multiple perspectives new worlds open up and the disparate becomes connected.

A dream is your creative vision for your life in the future. You must break out of your current comfort zone and become comfortable with the unfamiliar and the unknown. - Denis Waitley

One of the most common questions I get when I tell people that I solo road tripped the lower 48 is:

How do you plan for something like that? And why don’t you have a van?

The truth is I never planned to solo road trip the lower 48. It just happened. And that is why l lived out of a sedan and station wagon while traveling instead of a much more comfortable van.

My plan was to solo road trip the National Parks of the West and then my curiosity led me to the East coast since I had never been there. And once I had traveled about half of the United States I thought it would be cool to visit all of the lower 48 states. One thing led to the next, and eventually, to more than what I thought I was capable of — solo road tripping the lower 48.

If I had planned to solo road trip the lower 48 I would have never done it. I would still be planning.

I would be overwhelmed with all the what ifs and self-doubt since the longest I ever solo road tripped previously was one week. Too many unknowns to go along with my lack of travel experience.

Even solo road tripping just the National Parks of the West felt overwhelming before I left. I was excited yet terrified. But I went anyway.

Once I was on the road I tried to plan ahead a few times. But something would always come up to foil my plan: bad weather, car troubles, the flu, etc. Within two days my plan was usually obsolete, so I never planned ahead more than two days. I winged it.

While I didn’t have a detailed plan, I did have a general direction – a fuzzy goal.  The National Parks of the West, East coast, the South, the Southwest, and eventually to complete the lower 48. I just didn’t know the pathway that would get me there.

I picked a direction and made a leap of faith.  Jumped into the unknown and figured out the details along the way.  The more time I spent in the unknown the more comfortable I became dealing with uncertainty.  Now I plan on not being able to plan.  My “plan” for journeys into the unknown is:

Pick a direction.  Take a leap of faith.  Make lots of mistakes.  Learn.  Adapt.

If you want to make a major change in your life sometimes you just need to take that initial leap of faith and then figure out the details along the way.  Pick a direction and blaze a new trail into the unknown.  The unknown holds more than you ever dreamed possible.

I hiked up this waterfall

and looked down the edge of the falls despite being afraid of heights.  It was totally worth it.

Location:  Vernal Fall at Yosemite National Park, CA

Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life... as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to succeed. - Booker T. Washington

For years I thought about hiking the Grand Canyon. Last summer I went to the south rim of the Grand Canyon and decided not to hike down because I was feeling under the weather and wasn’t sure if I would make it back up in the scorching heat. So I looked into riding the mules and found out that – I am too fat to ride the mules.

Never in my lifetime did I think I would be told that I am too fat to ride a pack animal. Not being in good enough shape to hike up the Grand Canyon is one thing, but being too fat to ride a mule – that is downright embarrassing. So I left the rim without descending into the canyon determined that I would come back someday and hike down into the canyon. Someday.

Someday came this spring when I went to back to the Grand Canyon. I trained for 6 weeks prior, but I was still too fat to ride the mules by about 10 pounds so I had to hoof it myself. Screw the mules.

I packed up my backpack with water, Gatorade, Clif bars, and trail mix and took the classic pre-hike solo traveler shot before descending down the Bright Angel trail.

As I descended down into the canyon I was passed by teenage boys who were running down to the river. And I passed teenage girls who were already complaining about their calves hurting. After 6.1 miles and 2938 feet drop in elevation I made it to Plateau Point overlooking the Colorado River.

Amazing view!  I could even see some rafters in the Colorado River rapids below.

Now all I have to do is hike 6.1 miles back up.

The hike back up started with the leader of the high school group complaining about how it was going to step after miserable step once everyone hit the switchbacks. I stopped for my last chance for water at Indian Garden and headed for the switchbacks. And when I got to the switchbacks a mule train came by.

I have never been so tempted to grab a mule tail.

But like I said earlier, screw the mules! I’m going to make it to the top by myself.

After passing and being passed by the same few people over and over again I finally made it to the top just before sunset. I celebrated with my new trail friends for the day. We did it! 12.2 miles with 2938 feet change in elevation. We all felt high on accomplishment.

There were several people at the top who came up to us and wished they could do what we did. They saw our sense of accomplishment and wanted to experience the feeling and the inner canyon. Someday, they said. Someday.

I wonder how many people who say someday actually come back and hike down into the canyon. It is easy to make excuses – not in good enough shape, too fat to ride the mules, etc. But the fact is that many people who hiked the Grand Canyon overcame what many would consider too big of an obstacle to overcome.

I met a guy on the trail who had a double knee replacement. I met a 67 year old lady hiking with a full overnight pack who wasn’t sure if she could do it, but in the end she made it to the top. I made it to the top despite the fact that I was too fat to ride the mules. Not only did I make it to the top, two days later I hiked down and up again on a different trail (South Kaibab) and captured some of my favorite photos from my trip to the Grand Canyon.

All of us overcame our excuse and pushed limits. I don’t advocate hiking into the canyon unprepared – you should hike within your limits and heed safety. But when faced with an obstacle resist that first urge to say – But [insert obstacle or excuse]. Instead think about what you can do.

Rehab your two surgically repaired knees. Train for 6 weeks wearing a full pack. Do whatever it takes without excuses. When faced with an obstacle sometimes you just need to say –

Screw the mules. I’ll make it to the top myself.

And then do it. No excuses.

Too many of us are not living our dreams because we are living our fears. -- Les Brown

I used to be afraid to fly.  I’m not sure why — maybe the lack of control and the thought of crashing to a fiery death.  Regardless, the more I made myself fly the easier it became.  The past couple weeks I even voluntarily flew in a small twin engine plane.  A huge step for someone who was once afraid to fly.

If I wouldn’t have overcome my fear of flying I would have missed out on the beauty of flying over the mountains

and along the mountainous river valley

to watch the sunset.

And I would have never followed a boat in the Puget Sound

and experienced the mountainous beauty of the San Juan Islands by air.

Instead I would be sitting at home looking at someone else’s cool flying photos because I was too afraid to get up there and take my own.

Many of the best things I have done in life are things that I was initially afraid to do.  Sometimes you need to walk directly towards your fears.  And fly into the unknown.

“One's destination is never a place
but rather a new way of looking at things.” - Henry Miller

Four years ago I packed up my car with camping gear and set out on a solo road trip to explore the West for the summer. My “plan” was to place all my possessions in storage in Minnesota, rubber tramp across the National Parks of the West, and figure out what I wanted to do with my life along the way. My “detailed plan” included an unmarked road atlas, a lightly skimmed National Parks of the West book, and not much else.

So I hit the road to see what was out there and find myself. My summer of exploring the National Parks of the West turned into four years of on and off solo travel across 47 states, 27 national parks, and numerous state parks. Being on the road by myself in constant commotion has been one of the highest growth phases in my life. It has been a transformational journey of a lifetime full of extreme highs and extreme lows and brought me to where I am today.

Today I’m in Portland and tomorrow I’ll be Seattle, who knows where I’ll be in a few weeks. My physical location really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that living outside my comfort zone has completely transformed the way I look at life.

There are others out there who have embarked on journeys similar to mine. Traveling down the road to somewhere has even cost a few people their lives, such as Christopher McCandless of Into the Wild fame. After fours years of traveling down the solo road to somewhere I have come to a similar conclusion as McCandless: Happiness is best when shared.

I’m still not sure where I’m going but I need to share the journey. Road Schooled is the start of a new road to somewhere. An experiment in giving back to society by sharing what I learned by dropping out of society.

Peace to Christopher McCandless and all the other dropouts who didn’t live to share what they learned. May all your roads be winding and full of adventure.