After I posted that photo of me heading off on my bike to Duluth in 1984, when I was twenty-three, I remembered what a big deal it had been. I jumped all in!
It wasn't just a vacation:
I'd quit my job as a grill cook, not enrolled for spring quarter classes (I was a come-and-go, part-time student at the U), and given up my one-room apartment, intending to bike all the way around Lake Superior.
I carried money––all the money I had in the world––in traveler's checks. I had no credit card, which I think was normal for young people at the time (not having one, that is).
I had no idea how lonely and boring it would be biking and camping by myself in rural Minnesota and Wisconsin. And how scary the many logging trucks were, on the narrow roads.
After ten days, I put my bike on a bus and went to visit friends in Madison, where I'd grown up.
I ended up spending the summer there, cashing in my traveler's checks, at loose ends... It was a little depressing. Or, was it a "deep-resting" *?
I don't want to romanticize that summer, or my young self--I was unhappy and uncertain, scared of a lot of things. But I think it really was a rest, because while it wasn't a very nice summer, I came back energized.
At the end of the summer, I took the Greyhound back to town, slept on a couple couches until I got a house sitting gig; signed up for a couple classes at the U (gee, it was casual--and affordable--back then), where I also got hired at a university library.
That Christmas, I contacted my father for the first time in five years, feeling that it was childish not to at least send Christmas cards. I felt that I was more grown-up than he was and could make the first move. (I think I was right.)
He sent a card right back, so that was nice, though really, the rip was never really repaired...
I am so encouraged to remember my younger self, who is still me!
So... just now I decided to go to Duluth by myself in a couple days--taking the bus, not biking.
These are my traveling companions, The Superior Team.
They are, L to R: an animal of the Traffic Guard species, SweePo the Protector, and Little Brother.
She has some great insights, but her boutique life-coaching makes me cringe--the weekend workshops at expensive retreat centers.
It wasn't just a vacation:
I'd quit my job as a grill cook, not enrolled for spring quarter classes (I was a come-and-go, part-time student at the U), and given up my one-room apartment, intending to bike all the way around Lake Superior.
I carried money––all the money I had in the world––in traveler's checks. I had no credit card, which I think was normal for young people at the time (not having one, that is).
I had no idea how lonely and boring it would be biking and camping by myself in rural Minnesota and Wisconsin. And how scary the many logging trucks were, on the narrow roads.
After ten days, I put my bike on a bus and went to visit friends in Madison, where I'd grown up.
I ended up spending the summer there, cashing in my traveler's checks, at loose ends... It was a little depressing. Or, was it a "deep-resting" *?
I don't want to romanticize that summer, or my young self--I was unhappy and uncertain, scared of a lot of things. But I think it really was a rest, because while it wasn't a very nice summer, I came back energized.
At the end of the summer, I took the Greyhound back to town, slept on a couple couches until I got a house sitting gig; signed up for a couple classes at the U (gee, it was casual--and affordable--back then), where I also got hired at a university library.
That Christmas, I contacted my father for the first time in five years, feeling that it was childish not to at least send Christmas cards. I felt that I was more grown-up than he was and could make the first move. (I think I was right.)
He sent a card right back, so that was nice, though really, the rip was never really repaired...
I am so encouraged to remember my younger self, who is still me!
So... just now I decided to go to Duluth by myself in a couple days--taking the bus, not biking.
These are my traveling companions, The Superior Team.
________________________
* I want to acknowledge I got the idea of "deep-rest" v. "depressed" from Martha Beck––I think from her book Finding Your Own North Star: Claiming the Life You Were Meant to Live (2002).She has some great insights, but her boutique life-coaching makes me cringe--the weekend workshops at expensive retreat centers.
