Unmoored

When I was seventeen, I couldn’t wait to leave my hometown. As a November baby, I was in luck – beer, boys, and yes some studying took me to a college just far enough away when I was still quite young. Brief visits home only confirmed my heart’s desire not to be there. It wasn’t so much my family that I wanted to get away from as it was the town. I often referred to it as the place you drove through to get somewhere else. And, there was the fact that we were non-affluents living in affluent suburbia at its best. It just wasn’t quite the right fit.

Suburbia not suiting me, I returned to the area after college to try my hand at living in the city of Buffalo for a few years. Not owning a vehicle until I was close to thirty, I flew around the city on my mountain bike, belting “Moon River” at the top of my lungs and always, always making it to the bar before day’s end. It was a time of short-lived jobs, punky boyfriends, and the absolute confusion that only the unsettled restlessness of early adulthood can bring about. And, it was very, very windy. My egocentrism was so tethered to taking things personally that the wind itself seemed to be out to get ME. Once again, I moved on. This time to a colder, albeit less windy part of New York State.

Fast forward a few decades to earlier this month and we find me a good 1,200 miles from New York State, sleeping (and sweltering) in Cracker Barrel parking lots on the gulf coast of Florida, and, for the first time since my travels began– beginning to feel a bit unmoored. Now, having made the ultimate leap to avoid all things unpleasant by selling my home and living life in my tiny RAV4 Ramper, I had made it possible for me to run away anytime to any place. Except, well, who was this I that was running and just where the hell did it think it was going?

Before I had set out on this grand adventure, I asked my adult daughter many times if she was Okay with me selling her childhood home and leaving to travel. Her generosity and love came out in this simple (and final) statement – “sigh…not to be cringe, mom, but home is you.” True enough. When I expressed my feelings of homesickness to her from a parking lot in Hillsborough County, Florida, we both felt the pull of home and I returned to stay with her for a while. Where was that you might ask? Oh, about 20 minutes from my hometown. And, the dance studio she is opening this summer? Yeah – on the street where I grew up.

Turns out if you can’t go home again, your children might do it for you.

One of my aspirations is to truly understand what impermanence means, both intellectually and experientially. This being so, I have set my intentions to not plan ahead and don’t book campgrounds or make firm plans more than a few days beforehand if possible. My visit with my daughter was open-ended – however, as with most hip-pocket mother/daughter relationships, we do need to separate in order to keep close. When it came time to leave this past week, my only plan was to come back to the meditation center I had been attending for the past couple of years for a weekend class. I had investigated places to stay around New York State, but hadn’t settled on anything. After some time, letting the idea sit and gel, I risked my nerves and asked.

Where am I now and hope to remain for the summer, you may wonder? Oh, at the dharma center about 40 minutes from the house I just sold.

Before leaving last December, my dearest spiritual friend and guide here at the center met with me and relayed the following analogy, which here I will fumble to paraphrase. What I had done by selling my home etc, was like jumping out of an airplane with no parachute. One’s instinct is to be frightened of crashing into the ground. But, when we can let go of the fear, we realize – there is indeed no ground. And, I will add, we may begin to see there is no fear either. My plan of no planning has been like drifting down through space and searching for the ground to meet me, of reaching around me to search for the parachute cord that just isn’t there. I have become habituated to landing…and to finding home.

Now, I have let go a little and I find myself once again on this familiar and beautiful land in a place of vast and profound serenity and love and know that this is perhaps the ultimate homecoming. With no expectation, yet with devotion and gratitude, I wish to stay here awhile. But, as my daughter said – home is not a place.

I am coming to understand that home is where my precious teacher is and ultimately it doesn’t matter where or when I am…I will always be at home.

This Land is Your Land (Bear & the Boys part II)

PLEASE NOTE: This is an informational article on USDA National Forests and serves as a companion post to The Bear and the Boys.

When I was very young, my brother Brian, twelve years my senior, took off to parts unknown. For a long time we did not hear from him, but when we did, the child “me” found it exotic to learn he was in New Mexico or Hawaii or… living in a tent in a forest in Colorado. The haze of my middle age memory brings to mind only that he stayed in that tent for upwards of a year, with no bother from the rangers who apparently got to know him pretty well. Though he passed on several years ago, he comes to mind often now as I work to navigate the maze of federal, state, and local public lands, established campgrounds and dispersed camping. My own recent stay in the Ocala National Forest, both in a campground as well as out on public lands, has inspired me to learn a little more about these lands our government protects and manages for its populace. Photo: Ocala National Forest

Did you know that the United States Forest Service manages 193,000,000 acres of land, including 155 national forests, 20 national grasslands, and one tall-grass prairie? National Forest lands comprise about 9% of the total land area in the United States (whoa!) and fall under the auspices of the Department of Agriculture. The USDA Forest Service oversees about 25% (rough figure) of federal lands altogether. Other federal lands include, but are not limited to, the National Park System and the Bureau of Land Management and are administered by the Department of the Interior. (click here for a map of all federally owned land)

The mission of the USDA Forest Service is “to sustain the health, diversity, and productivity of the Nation's forests and grasslands to meet the needs of present and future generations”. Its motto is "Caring for the land and serving people." They manage and protect national resources, including fighting fires, harvesting timber, and maintaining recreation sites, roads, and trails. In addition, their work is essential in protecting biodiverse habitats as human sprawl continues to negate nature’s…well, nature.

We can find national forest lands and grasslands in 44 states, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands, with the majority being located in Alaska and the western United States. (click here for an interactive visitor map) As a general rule, forest lands are our lands and the work the USDA Forest Service does helps to sustain these lands for our use now and in the future. Nearly all national forest land allows for dispersed camping – camping that is not in an established campground and offers no amenities and services, also referred to as off-grid, boondocking, or dry camping. This means you can pretty much drive out into the forest and (following forest rules) find a spot to camp. Some national forests also maintain established campgrounds, which may or may not require a reservation and are often first come, first serve.

Dispersed camping in national forests requires some woodsperson skills and general off-grid knowledge (such as don’t drink untreated water!). It is always recommended to contact the ranger station for the particular area you would like camp to confirm that it is open and available for dispersed camping. Closures can occur for a variety of reasons, including flooding, fires, controlled burns and more. In my experience, national and state park rangers and employees are approachable and knowledgeable, making a call a good first step in gathering information about any given location. Plus, you can let them know you’ll be out there!

Hopkins Prairie, Ocala National Forest

There are rules and regulations to camping in our national forests, primarily having to do with where and how long you may camp. Please check here for national forest dispersed camping guidelines and time limits. As a rule, your camp must be 100 feet from any water source and 150 feet from an established roadway and cannot be near a developed campground, trailhead, or picnic area. Some “stealth” campers may choose trailheads for an overnight camping spot and may be surprised to know this is not allowed. Generally speaking, you can stay at any given dispersed site for 16 days out of 30, but then must move at least five miles away before returning.

I was saddened to learn that, according to the USDA National Forest Service, there are officially no safe untreated water sources anymore. It is recommended that all water found on federal lands in springs, ponds, streams and other natural water sources should be boiled and treated. However, I am aware of folks who regularly drink untreated spring water. For myself, I use a lifestraw (Amazon affiliate link) which suits my limited space. And, quite frankly, I haven’t encountered a lot of untreated water yet in my journey. Other things to be mindful of when camping out in the back woods include leaving no trace (pack it in, pack it out), using a cat hole for human waste, and being informed about campfire restrictions and how to extinguish a fire.

It is heartening to know so much of our country has lands that are open to us. We can truly travel and live on the land full time if that is our heart’s desire. Given my own recent dispersed camping experience, I would definitely recommend not going it alone unless you are familiar and comfortable in your chosen spot.

Happy (dispersed) trails to you! Don’t forget the bug spray. Photo: Young Eve and Mary camping many moons ago...

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The Bear and the Boys

A great friend will listen to your dreams, but a best friend will help you achieve them. When my friend Mama Donna learned I wanted to fully immerse myself in the dispersed camping experience, she found a way to put aside all of her many responsibilities and took me out into the forest for some off-grid, no amenities living in the backwoods scrub of the Ocala National Forest.

In terms of camping, I have always leaned toward staying at established state or private campgrounds, places with bathrooms, showers, and, yes, neighbors. Although exploring more primitive camping options has been of interest to me, my attempts have been limited to the (at times amateurish) forays of my twenties. I hadn’t wanted to go off into the forest alone again until I had some guidance. As a side note - dispersed camping is also referred to as boondocking, off-grid, and dry camping. Government agencies, including town, county, state, and federal, manage lands that offer campers the option to drive or hike off into the forest, find a spot, and camp – most of the time for free. There are rules and regulations, of course, and for more background info on our national forests, please see part II of this article, This Land is Your Land. The big difference from established campgrounds is, with dispersed camping you bring everything you need with you – and take it all (except maybe your poops and peeps) when you go.

Donna and I began our trip by visiting a nearby dispersed camping site in the national forest that had, unbeknownst to us, recently had a controlled burn. While smoke still hung between the stalks of trees and tiny seeds of fire sprouted periodically and then wilted almost as fast, we set up camp feeling fairly certain we were safe. That is, until an elder hollow tree a couple of sites away began to smoke with such evident intent that Donna grabbed her shovel and heaved load after load of sand into the gap. It was then we realized it was time to leave the area to the rangers and we headed out to find a site in Juniper Springs.

At times referred to as the Ocala National Cemetery, the forest roads there stretch out in straight lines of white sand bordered by hickory thickets and stands of sand live oak. Areas not dominated by pine are canopied low and dense by subtropical sand plants that thrive on the acidic and well-draining sand. These dwarf forests are eerily desolate and nearly as soon as we arrived I noted the absence of much bird song or animal sounds. A sense that anything could, and does, happen out there was pervasive. By the time we reached Juniper Springs we had only half an hour of daylight to collect firewood and start a fire. Undaunted by what I saw as an unapproachable landscape, Donna was off into the scrub for wood and had a fire going before I could get my bearings.

Our days passed in quiet companionship. We breathed. We cooked (Okay, Donna cooked, I opened stuff up). We hiked. Donna played guitar and sang. And, she taught me about lighter pine, easy ways to start a fire, cat holes, and the art of Zen doodling. So serene and complacent were we that on the third day when we heard a significant crashing and bashing sound coming from deeper into the woods, the uptick in our heart rates was noticeable.

Nearly every day since I had met Donna it seemed I had mentioned bear at least once. It had become a bit of a joke. Now, the reality of the sounds we were hearing slammed into me as if someone had picked me up and pointedly dropped me into an entirely different day. Donna grabbed a large stick and stood facing the sound. Although she stands around five inches shorter than me, every speck of my being inside and out wanted to stand behind her. I didn’t though. Hands on hips, elbow to elbow, we stood together staring into the scrub. Finally, I yelled in my best man voice “HEY, HEY, NO.” A heartbeat. And then, a deep “Hey” came back to us.

The side of my mouth commented to Donna that I wasn’t entirely sure we weren’t in for a bigger threat. With unwavering awareness she nodded and put her knife within arm’s reach. After a brief verbal exchange, we indicated that the thicket-trapped hikers could pass through our site. Uncannily, two well-groomed and twentysomething dudes emerged with absolutely no gear, not a hair out of place, and a story that they were out turkey hunting and had gotten lost. The larger of the two men was ironically bear-like in size, and while his story that they were from North Carolina matched his accent, their lack of gear did not match their tale of turkey hunting. Within the space of a moment or two, it became clear that bear-like guy would have settled in for some neighborly chattiness. But, Donna did not give them an inch. She and I had instinctually anchored ourselves to different sides of the campsite so that they had to pass between us. Stick in hand, she ushered them quickly through our site to the road in true Mama Donna style – quiet and steady with a mix of full-on authority that sent them posthaste down the road, yes ma’aming her all the way.

It was as they passed by me on their way out that I finally noticed the pistol strapped to the smaller man’s leg. I quietly waited a few moments and then crept to the roadside and hunched behind the scrub to stand vigil, monitoring their departure toward the main road. It seems a lovely daydream to go out into the forest and find a place of true solitude. I have visualized hours and days of uninterrupted quiet, penetrated only by the sounds of the natural world. While this is certainly a probable scenario in most cases, the other probability is that anything can happen. This experience will for sure inform my off-grid camping decisions going forward. And, now more than ever, I do indeed see the value in having best friends who will guide you, teach you, and chase off sketchy characters with a stick…and a kick-ass smile.

My first attempt at Zen doodling

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A NOTE on lighter pine :Also referred to as fatwood, lighter pine can be identified as a damaged or cut part of a pine tree that has become full of hardened resin, making it an excellent fire starter. In the southeastern United States, it is the long leaf pine that is often associated with this type of wood.

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