This is where my trip began, I don’t mean geographically, I mean conceptually. I had a dream. In my dream I was standing in Monument Valley, on the Navajo Nation of Arizona, I was photographing the sandstone monoliths that rise up like a many fingered hand from the floor of the Painted Desert. My dream was vivid. I could feel the heat of the sun on my face, the warmth of that far star pushing through the fibres of my clothing and igniting something just under my skin. I could feel the heat coursing through my veins, feeding my heart, mingling with the grains of oxygen in the cosseting arms of my cells. The wind was hard on my back as though it would wrestle me down to the ground and press me into the broad roots of the ancient creosote. There was snow in the distance, a black cloud letting loose all that it carried while soaring across an endless mesa. I stood there, in the arms of the elements, with my camera to my face, one eye squinted shut, the pointer finger on my right hand pulling the trigger, making images — oh, give me this one moment in time and make it true to the view.
When I woke up, I found I was yearning for the low and high desert of Arizona and Utah. For the red rock there. For a stronger sky. For the smell of dry land about to burst into bloom. I told Robert I thought I needed to go to the desert. He said, “Well then, go!“
So I did.
I like to travel alone. I also like to travel with my love, though he is more conscious of the linear nature of time and manages to stay much more focused on the destination than I am able to. You see, I love the journey. It’s a frustrating component of my nature for dear friends and family expecting me for visits. I never arrive on time. I am usually anywhere from five hours late to two days late in arriving. If I am compelled to stop and explore, I stop and explore. I lose myself in whatever moment I find myself in. It’s a blessing. It’s a curse.
I like to travel alone. I like to drive my truck. I like to watch the yellow lines on the highway flicker into a blurred streak. I like to stop for lunch or breakfast or coffee or iced tea. I like to drive in silence. I like to drive with the music too loud. I like to drive too slow. I like to drive too fast. If I see a terrible looking dirt road leading to somewhere mysterious, I slam the brakes at the last moment, turn the truck off the highway, pop the rig into 4×4 (if need be) and I explore. When I can’t go any further on wheels, I get out and walk. I will follow most any path into the great unknown. I will leave the path and continue until the ground is free of footprints. I can’t help it. It may be a genetic flaw.
I like to travel alone. Half of my year is spent being left behind, due to the nature of Robert’s job. I work diligently to keep my summers from being seasons of living as a remainder, as the one who is left, as the one who stands splayed with tension while she holds everything together in the absence of her life partner. It can be hard, in those months when Robert is away working, to not feel left out of an adventure. He is dropped out of airplanes into wild places where the mountains haven’t been wrangled by hiking trails and cabins, and the wolves and bears still run away at the sight of a human. He has adventures while he works. When he is away, I keep our home running and find many ways to have my own adventures so that the scraggly weeds of resentment cannot find any acidic soil in which to sink their roots. Being the one who is left behind is drastically different from being the one who is leaving, the only similarity is found in the reality of apartness. I think it’s important and healthy for my man to know how it feels to be left, from time to time. It helps us appreciate each other more. While I am on the road, or on a mountain top, or in a cleft in the sandstone rock, I remember so easily all the parts of Robert’s ruggedly beautiful, manly nature that I adore and respect. I miss him. I pine for him. I wish he was with me. It makes the reunions sweet, for with distance, fondness does grow. I will testify to the fact.
I like to travel alone. It’s an enormously selfish way to live life, for a moment in time. When I return, I’m ready to give again, and I’ll give and give and give until I am wracked with fatigue, thin and bare of soul, and I find the time has come to leave once more. There is something about temporary disappearance that grows my energy thick. When I am away, I can recognize how sparse I have grown — the gauntness begins to fade and my views grow robust again. When my soul is a glittering and jangling mobile of bones in the wind, it is easy to be in a throng of strangers, it is easy to be one more small face in a crowd of many. There is a deep rest to be found in the nooks of strange places. I am merely one more girl in a truck on a road to somewhere.
I like to travel alone. I am shy about who I am because who I am has been whittled down and is growing new arms like a starfish in a tidal pool and regeneration takes a fund of energy. I don’t share much about myself, unless pushed to. I hold who I am and what I do like a good secret. I let my gait, my braids, my accent, my silence define me. I smile a lot. I speak when I am spoken to. I fold low over my coffee and sketchbook in a cute cafe. I am my very self but so happy to remain unknown. I pull my hat down low over my eyes. I am a mouse in a cupboard. No. I am a tree in a forest. No. I am a willow wisp, a spindly dream thread, the thing that hasn’t become but will eventually be.
I like to travel alone.
Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape. [Bell Hooks]
I share your sentiments about traveling …and just before you wrote “elements”, moments before, the line before I wanted to tell you that you remind me of elements…it is grand becoming part of the landscape…thank you for the photos…and more xx
🙂 That’s a nice thing to remind you of.
Thanks for being here, M. X
The last lines are amazing. I am obsessed with last lines, good repetition in writing and when something comes together this beautifully.
Today I opened my Glitz ring at work. I work with some wonderful humans and they all wanted to see the ring I had been wanting for so long. They were all impressed by the postcards, tea, and the fact that you had hand-written the note inside. I told them you were wonderful and when they saw the ring and looked up your blog they all had a smile in their face. You do that to people… I didn’t say much else, but then again, I didn’t have to.
xx
I thought they were alright too. 🙂 They rolled right off my fingertips like fruity little jelly beans. Thanks for being so kind about my writing and THANK YOU for wearing one of my Glitz Rings…
You’re a beauty.
X
I like to travel, and spend much time alone too. It’s good for the soul.
🙂 It surely is!
i very much hear this. you have a good, safe trip missy.
I knew you would.
SHALL DO!!!
XX
I don’t even have the words….
so I will say thank you
thank you for posting the words I so needed to read
for in you
I see me
and I am beautiful
love and light
You SURELY ARE beautiful!
Thanks for being here, C. And safe travels.
X
Aloneness, but not lonely :). We are born alone and we die alone, and yet we were never born and never die…enjoy your journeys Ms. Plume…thank you for sharing…
Very very true words. Especially the “alone but not lonely” part. Love that.
We are similarly blessed and cursed, you and I.
XX
HA HA HA!!!
I would love to have a good roam with you sometime, little dearie!
XX
that smoky blue, and rusted sun. only the finest earthly tones!
life can be a sea of endless discoveries, if we choose to explore it…
I adore this voyage of yours – steady words that hit home.
Your freedom and ability to roam is such a gift – oh, how I strive for it!
much love to you, dear jillian!
You know what I love about exploration? I don’t have to go to a different continent to do it. I am so happy to explore in my backyard, on the mountain across the street from my house…or anywhere in Idaho, or another state for that matter. Don’t you think that exploration, at the very root of the spirit of the thing, is about being curious???
XX
I love this post!! I could read it again and again. I LOVE to travel alone too, I’ve driven to Alaska solo. But, I also get caught up in the destination – and feel driven (ha,ha) to get there in a timely matter. I wish I could be more like you! I wish I would allow myself more time to explore the side roads.
To Alaskaaaa!!! That’s a haul! Did you take the AlCan or the Cassiar? I have driven the full length of both and love each highway very much. Sometimes, if I putz around enough, I will eventually feel ready to just GET to where I am going…but I have to putz more than I usually putz to get to that point…
My putzing is even worse in the summer when there are little creeks and rivers to fish…berries to pick and wildflowers to gather.
Next time you take a trip, make a little space for exploration!!! You won’t regret it.
Oh, you SO remind me of my baby sister. She’s always disappearing off into the wild by herself. I admire her bold adventurous streak, too. (She scoffs at me because my idea of camping is pitching a tent in the backyard, no more than ten feet away from a hot shower. I scoff at her because on one of her last guided tours for Outdoor Pursuits in Aussie–she being the guide–she managed to get lost, with a dozen or so teenagers! She calls me Nana; I call her Calamity Jane.)
xxx
I wish my name was Calamity Jane.
Your sister sounds like my SOUL sister. We’d get on like peaches and creme.
These photos of your trip are just breathtaking. Your words, your honesty–they are so refreshing. Your words sometimes make me want to cry, but in a good way.
I love visiting here. : )
*pulls out embroidered handkerchief and hands it to Eileen* — you stay as long as you need, darlin’. XX
Ah! These words… so true. I rarely travel alone, and often wish I could whisk myself away for a day or a week or two. I should make time for it. Perhaps one of these days we’ll smile silently at each other in a cute cafe far from both our homes…
I look forward to that day. Very much. I’ll probably shyly tell you that you have a very darling nose…because that’s one of the things I always notice about people…
Yes. And, thank you.
Thanks for being here, Beth. X
good stuff here Noisy. really really good. ♥ ♥ ♥
Dana! HALLOOO! XX
Sigh. I don’t necessarily like driving alone, but I love good meals, good movies and a good book alone. Traveling is a means to an end for me now, as I usually have two boys in the car who can not seem to be on the same bathroom schedule no matter what! How much time have I spent in gas station bathrooms, I wonder? The worst are the ones that are “around back.”
Now, dusty and mysterious roads are a wonder though! I like to jog and I spotted one the other week and I couldn’t resist. Now, I’m a 3-miler is all and much to my chagrin, the dusty road kept going up and up. I never made it to the end so now it’s a big looming mystery for me to work up to!
In college in WV there were a gazillion dusty roads that we traveled. One time we there was a small wooden sign that stated, “cemetery” pointing down a path. About a mile through the woods we found a 100-year old cemetery! Ahhhh….. it was a wonder! Another time there was a poster board scrawled with an arrow that said simply, “wine.” We spent an afternoon with a beekeeper that made his own wine! Oh, dusty roads…how I miss you!
Oh boy…sounds like a terrible twosome…
🙂
Your day for solo voyages will come. Your dusty road sounds like a mysterious little goal to work on! Wish I could run it with you.
This made me smile and think, yes, alone, but enveloped in the world, experiencing it all. I like that you explore wherever you go. 🙂 Safe travels…
Thanks, toots. X
Thank you for letting me peek into your solo romp! That last quote hits solitary on the nosey. Maybe that’s why as of late I’m coveting little campers to run off in! Dreamy. I love my beloveds but sometimes feel like I’m suffocating.
You need to go buy that little Airstream in the field that your lovely husband painted. 🙂 See you soonnnn!!!! XX
beautiful words. i like to travel alone too – i don’t do it nearly enough. and as the one who is often left behind due to the nature of my own man’s work, you’re right, i should do a little leaving sometimes too!
Doing a little leaving, every now and again, is good for the self and the relationship. I highly encourage it. XX
Right on, Lady Plume! Right on! ooooh I love this post. xo
and Write on… teeeheee!
HA HA! Will do, M! X
Wonderful, true words. It’s a blessing to be able to travel alone, to be in your very own company, to live with your very own head, and have peace. I traveled alone for three months in Cambodia (well, not just traveled, I stayed put a lot too) and that was an experience that taught me about really being in my own company. I’m a social hermit.. I love to have people around, yet I crave time spent by myself. have an exquisite journey, my girl!
OH yes! This is what I call myself as well — a gregarious sort of hermit. I’m very capable in social settings but the interaction drains me and requires some recovery time. I know just what you mean.
How was Cambodia???
I like to travel alone.
YOU KNOW THAT.
But, I will go anywhere
with you.
I loved this.
Happy Trails.
xxxooo
…maybe we should plan a road trip. OH! I’m meeting a girlfriend this spring to hunt arrowheads in WYO…it would be easy for you to meet us! I’ll send details. XX
Beautiful, and true. I could read one thousand more versions of “I like…” and “I am…”. Such strong sentences, so simple in form and so wide in their reaching.
…and usually, so easy to relate to and comprehend. Thanks for being here, Izy.
you travel alone…with ALL of us n tow!
Sacred words
&
Sacred places,
I’m thrilled you visited that majestic & magical canyon land…& can live your dreams!
XO
I know.
I am always thinking to myself, “What would my posse like to see on this jaunt?!!!” And then I shoot it and write all about it for you. You’re all such good company.
You DO have Tater Tot for company though I hope! I live alone and love it but I couldn’t be without my doggie! Beautiful pics, thanks for sharing!
For the record, I NEVER go anywhere without a dog. Not even the grocery store. Not even the post office. I always have either Farley or Tater Tot or BOTH with me in my truck or running with me as I bike, or run, or hike, or ski, or walk.
We go together like ramalamadingdong.
*heart*
*heart*
*heart*
this is so perfectly beautiful. it’s everything i’d have written if i could have found the words myself. a few years ago i meandered solo from NY to CO and back (a few months later). it was one of the highlights of my life. i haven’t been to the desert yet. an exploration of zion, bryce, the grand canyon, and everything south of there to phoenix is next on my list, and this post definitely solidified that desire!
It’s been awhile, too long, since I’ve sat down and read one of your blogs, word for word. I Like to Travel Alone reeled me in. Instantly, I was reminded of my lone ranger trip where I met up with a lovely Canadian residing in Idaho (that’s you). I smiled and teared up a little reading this. I feel like I still haven’t given myself enough time to reflect on that trip. I was disappointed in myself for so many reasons, it’s like I’ve been denying what really happened out there, out west. The journal I kept on that trip leaves me at Diablo Lake in the Northern Cascades over-looking a power plant (I think that’s what it was.) I never returned to my journal, except to write directions to your house from that little cafe in Pocatello. I don’t really know the point to this right now… But I think I should give myself another chance and the desert has been calling my name since the moment I came into this world, in Tucson. You.Are.Inspiring. Thank you~
I so love your words on nature and love. It is a wonderful thing to miss your partner, it is sometimes my most favorite thing. It is hard to not feel resentment when you are the one being left behind. Sometimes I relish the time alone and others I resent it. I am glad you have found a way to reenergize yourself, this is a practice I am constantly working on. It’s so easy to give and give until there is nothing left for yourself.