My trip's itinerary - phase one (Trip part 5)

I am going to leave Corvallis in less than two weeks with every nook and cranny of my van packed. I feel at ease about the trip but have one concern, the weight of a packed cabin and the van's lacking manliness. I fear that its 67 horsepower possibly is deficient in adequate power for the uphill battles and I fully expect to have to drop a cinder block on the accelerator as I jump out and push. Forseeing no way to pack less than planned, I guess this will be a good way to ensure I am exercising along the way as well.

When I tell people I am going to be living in my van many laugh, the thought of voluntarily living in a 7' by 15' foot box eliciting stifled chuckles created from the images of a cramped life inside a wheeled toaster. From time to time, while looking at my van from a distance, I can see a glimpse of what they are thinking. Yet, upon entering my spacious abode I am at a loss to truly understand this thought process, the knowledge that entire families used to live in cabins granting my comfort. Somehow I think I can handle a van with a comfortable bed, a stove and a fridge for three months - or at least, here's hoping.

In addition to the food and clothing necessary for survival on this journey I plan to fill the van with something I have been neglecting for years, books. From the time I was able to read, a book a night was my norm. I used to fill up my mind with the words and stories from all genres and authors, humor always being my fallback. I lost this daily growth the day mandated material took the place of voluntary words, textbook explanations of the life cycle of the Tsetse fly somehow seem dry in comparison. I also plan to incorporate music into all moments of the days as I enjoy a soundtrack for my life, music always setting or enhancing the mood.

This journey is meant to be one of no responsibility and so I head into it with no real itinerary. I know that the first leg of my trip will take on a southerly direction and will allow me a good 3 weeks to travel as my one responsibility throughout the whole trip, a good friend's wedding in WA, is something I would be remiss to disregard. At 200 miles a day, a self imposed cap - for my own sanity as well as my van's well being - I figure I can hit 4000 miles or so in this time, an easy jaunt and a great trial run.

My first stop on the trip is Bend, a place that is close enough to not put too much wear and tear on the vehicle yet far enough and over enough elevation that I can begin to judge the van's capacity for abuse. The mountains figure to tax the engine in a decent first test and, should anything go wrong, I will be close enough to civilization, making repairs easy and comfortable.

I am ashamed to admit that I have lived in Oregon for nearly a decade and have never seen it's most famous natural landmark, Crater Lake. Being a lover of nature I have purchased a National Parks Annual Pass, it's $80 cost affording me access to every National Park and Land Management area, and plan to use it wisely and often, Crater Lake being my first Park destination.

Crater Lake's beauty will give way to the small town feel of Grants Pass, home to one of my little sisters, Brin, a 24-year-old, sweet as sugar, red head with whom I have never met, much less even verbally spoken to. Incorporating my new family on this journey will be done mainly through thought and reflection, the occasional e-mail or Facebook message granting more insight, but the chance to meet Brin face to face is an exciting opportunity. I will then continue my westward march to the sea, the chosen path of a coastal journey offering me the beauty and serenity of open ocean and the promise of peaceful nights' sleeps as the lull of perpetual waves crash over the shore.

The ocean is my first excuse for a coastal route but not my only. For far too long I have promised to visit so many friends I have neglected, this journey grants me the ability to make amends. Spread throughout the country I have many stops along my trip, one of my first is San Francisco. The Golden Gate bridge will welcome me into a city of wealth and infamy and to the door of one of my closest friends, Lewis - an impressively intelligent man for whom the gift of gab comes so easily it makes me think he kissed the Blarney stone in a past life - and his lovely fiancee, Kelley who graciously loves me even though she has only met me on two occasions - and I hope to do nothing to ever dissuade her from this opinion.

It may be incredibly difficult to exit the upper class lifestyle of San Fran, but Santa Barbara and my beloved Yogini, Christina - an ex-OSU soccer player I was enamored with whose genuiness creates soulful beauty but with whom no relationship other than friendship ever blossomed - call my name. From the beer swilling nights and flexible days of Santa Barbara it is south to Pasadena to see an ex and the family I have not seen since dad's funeral.

Close to two years is a long enough time to heal many wounds, but the loss of a loved one cuts deeper than most. This stop will allow all of us to see how we have fared, lovingly reflect on the man that was my father and afford me the opportunity to thank them again for their support and love during the time of loss, especially towards my mother, a woman for whom affection was not a readily shown emotion until the loss of her center opened her eyes to what alone would actually feel like. I also, if artistic fate comes together, plan to show off the family crest tattoo that my Uncle Bob made possible.

The southern portion of the trip ends in San Diego, the home of some of my closest HS friends and their families. Though the fear of restless nights at the wails of newborns causes me temporary pause, the enjoyment of their company and the knowledge of a queen bed in the back of a spacious van overrides any lingering doubt.

It is from here that my journey takes an Eastern turn through the desert to a state that I would never think to visit as brown is one of my least favorite colors. Save for the big night sky and countless stars, the only draw New Mexico has for me is one of my dearest friends, Amberlee, an ex-Corvallis player with whom I have grown one of my fondest relationships - a relationship restarted four years ago outside Clodfelter's in Corvallis and never stopped, the conversations being so easy and entertaining I'd be an idiot to not seek out her guidance, wit and loving sarcasm - at least I hope it's sarcasm.

From New Mexico the constraint of time sets in as an April 11 wedding looms and the direction of travel will take a decidedly northern turn. The traveled course will bounce back and forth between Utah and Nevada with the ideal northerly goal of Montana, a state I know little about but have always been drawn to. Should I miss Montana, or neglect many of the beautiful National Parks that dot the southwest and California, I will be sure to return. But, as of now, the wedding marks my true end of responsibility, and so the second phase of the journey will be mapped accordingly.