|Cabin at Dancing Raven|
Nine years ago this week I departed Taos and took to the road fulltime.You know the life altering account of the first five years through my book Drive Me Wild: A Western Odyssey, the journey from British Columbia to the tip of the Baja. As for the past three solo years (warning: if you're short on dramamine skip to the next paragraph) imagine towing La Perla-the-trailer from Colorado to Alaska, turning around and heading down British Columbia to Kaslo, continuing south to mainland Mexico for a winter on the beach, ziiiip! - return across the Canadian border to BC (enter Hobo, stage left, who hitched a ride with me on the undercarriage of my truck at age 4 weeks), dip down for a stay in Montana, hit Colorado and perch for a winter back in Taos. From there to AZ, where I learned of my nomination for the Colorado Book Award. And then, a return to the San Luis Valley for book tour and pilgrimage to my beloved cabin at Dancing Raven, where I had penned Living on the Spine. Last summer I accepted a seasonal position for the Prescott National Forest in Arizona. That ended in December. At the invitation of a friend, I'm writing the sequel to Drive Me Wild on the banks of the Skagit River in Washington state.
|The Infamous Duo|
I could never have predicted the chain of ecstatic highs or utter lows, the characters I have met and continuous meetings with the wild. But one thing is certain: I could not have done it without your love and support. If you offered me a place to park or ruffled Teak behind the ears you made me smile. If you commented on photos, poems or rants on Facebook you are new family, an integral piece of my peripatetic life. If you installed solar panels on LaPerla you made boondocking possibile. If you were a reader for published words you fed my muse and not coincidentally, saved my life. If you opened the door to your washing machine or filled your tub with hot water and bubbles you kept my olfactory in balance, along with the Chanel #5 from duty free in Paris. And, if you purchased my books or photographs, you provided the tools of my trade: camera, binocs and laptop.
No writer, devoted to their craft, creates on her own. Our words are heaped upon your encouragement and yes, even a rare monetary gift. Pay it forward is our mantra, as our ups and downs are never in sync. You show up at a signing. You point out thrift stores as we zoom down the road. You tirelessly network on my behalf; organize a reading at your local library or bookstore. You are the lover who knows a hike is spiritual sanctuary as well as foreplay.
I know not what comes next in my life. There is a piece of me that would like some teensey roots somewhere. But then, are roots ever teensey? What I can tell you is that the qualities that have honed this gypsy life are the same that everyone must display in today's tenuous world, beginning with creativity, a wide swath of irreverence and a sense of humor. There is no time like the present to humble ourselves and ask why I am here? What is my service to this planet? Then, garner the courage to kick some butt.
We're all dromomaniacs to some extent. Whether it's one or one hundred per cent of the time, the holy planet depends upon our ability roam beyond our comfort zones. Please. Know that you have made this She-nomad possible, as I witness the glories of this wild earth and lay them before your eyes.
Now back to work I go. There's a sequel to get done. Blessed Be, Brothers and Sisters.
|Snow Geese in the Skagit Valley|