We sat on our new, expansive deck in the warm, unfiltered sunshine so characteristic of early summers in Bailey and had lunch. It was June 2022. The girls had just returned from Texas and I had just returned from one of my best bikepacking trips of all time: the Stone House Lands loop in the San Rafael Swell of central Utah.
We were all sunburned and tired; but a good tired, the tired that comes from, in my case, working hard, and from their case, playing hard. I had peddled and peddled under a scorching Utah sun among the spires of Cathedral Valley, the massive dry washes of Caineville and the otherworldly geology of Goblin Valley. I had survived five days in a landscape devoid of water. I had seen wild horses and camped under some of the darkest skies in the country. It was one of my most successful adventures and I was bursting with excitement to tell my family about it and show them pictures and regale them with tales from the trail.
As it turns out, however, they were bursting with excitement to tell me about a new plan they had concocted.
Before I could utter a word about my trip, besides the always inadequate, ‘oh, it was amazing’, they beat me to the punch.
‘We want to sell the house and live in an RV. What do you think?’
I knew that this idea had been brewing. Episodes of Tiny Home Nation had opened our minds up a bit and given us a desire to live with less of a footprint on our world – less waste, less consumerism, less impact on resources (washing used Ziplocs wasn’t really gonna do it). I knew Wendy wanted to change things up. Do something to get the girls more in the present. The big trips we took rafting, hiking, exploring were great. But in between we weren’t very active.
‘Oh,’ was all I could lamely manage to their eager stares. They were obviously expecting a more interesting response than that. But I was saddened that they had stolen my thunder and that, just like that, they had circumvented this perfect chance to tell them about my trip. The excitement I had felt to tell them about it evaporated into the sky. I knew they must have been talking about this idea to rent an RV for a bit and, like me, had been excited to tell me about it, but I don’t think they realized how it made me feel a little lonely.
It was similar to the feelings I always had when I came home from my Navteq trips overseas. My friends were never all that interested in hearing about my adventures in Dubai, or South Africa, or Singapore, or Brazil. They were more intent on telling me about how the Red Sox had done, or how the Patriots had overcome the Raiders in an amazing comeback, another game winning drive for Tom Brady…or whatever. Sadly, it all felt so parochial to me. How could they tell me about the Red Sox when I had just driven across the desert from Muscat, Oman into the UAE? How could they think I cared about the Patriots when I had just ridden elephants in northern Thailand. I came to realize that it wasn’t a case of caring or not, it was a case of perspective. Since my friends had nothing to compare to my experiences they just didn’t have the right frame of mind to appreciate it. The only people who ever seemed interested in my travels were friends or family who had done some traveling themselves – and I didn’t have many of those at the time.
It was the same with bikepacking. If you have not experienced the strain and loneliness and fear and then the euphoria and reward and satisfaction that comes with every bikepacking trip then you do not have the right lens to appreciate the profound effects these trips can have on you.
I think my girls just didn’t have that lens and when they brought up their idea for living in an RV I was disappointed with them and simultaneously my lame response made them disappointed with me. I think we all cleared the dishes from that lunch, saddened by each other instead of excited for the potential that they had opened up.
However, this idea they had proposed settled into my consciousness like a stone sinking into the ocean – sinking and spinning deeper and deeper until it was lodged for good.
I did eventually show them the slideshow from my trip and tell them some tales and they were adequately moved, so that my childish vanity was finally satiated.
