My Angel.

I have written about the kindness of people over and over since I started this adventure. Every time I'm on the receiving end of a random act of kindness from a stranger it confirms my suspicions that the world is made up of amazing individuals; it's not the scary world we see on TV.

If you've been with me since the beginning you may remember the mystery man who appeared at my last yard sale and handed me an envelope with a donation for my trip. To refresh, a gentleman approached me, I introduced myself and he replied by saying who he was was not important. We talked about travel and he briefly shared some of his own experiences. He handed me an envelope, told me to put it in a safe place and wished me well on my travels. He was not someone I knew and was very clear on remaining anonymous. Rarely do you see someone make such a gesture and absolutely refuse any kind of praise or recognition. My father says there's a name for someone who secretly gives (it appears in his crosswords a lot); angel.

Yesterday the mystery man struck again, this time in the form of a mystery woman. She walked into Argyle Fine Art and handed over an envelope with my name on it while keeping her lips sealed. When asked if the envelop should be passed on to me she replied simply, yes. When asked if she's like to say who it is from she said nothing, quietly slipping out the door. Inside was a donation and another vintage postcard with a similar message as the first; "for your next trip, vaya con dios".

(I hope by publishing images of the postcards I'm not risking the anonymity of my donators.)

I'm still in a state of shock.  Yes, the donation will be put to good use but it really is the gesture that brings me to tears. There must be something about what I originally considered a selfish venture that has struck a cord with these two individuals. I know from emails I have received that what people are relating to is the idea of freedom. People's letters talk about how they traveled when they were younger or they always wanted to travel but 'life got in the way'. The barter van blog is a way for them to live vicariously through me. I had no idea starting out how many people have similar dreams of the open road and how few actually get the opportunity to do it. I thank my lucky stars every day and never forget those who support me and cheer me on as I get ready for the next adventure.

Whoever and wherever you are I hope you are reading this. Thank you isn't near a strong enough sentiment for what you have done.

You are my angels.

Do you have an angel in your life or have you been one to someone else?

Opening night and other ramblings.

Panoramic photo by Crystal Ross

It's a few days after the opening reception of my show and I have the all so familiar feelings I get after all the excitement is over.  I am someone who always needs a project so after months and months of working towards making this exhibition happen I am now kind of projectless; for now. I get a bit of a post opening blues but don't get me wrong, it's nothing serious. It's almost like when an adrenaline-inducing roller coaster slowly comes to an end. Or like raising children and then sending them off into the world to see what happens. (ok, not actually, but I think you get the gist of the metaphor) It is both exciting and makes one vulnerable. I wouldn't trade any of this roller coaster though and will most definitely be doing it as long as I'm able.

The reception was wonderful and I am so fortunate to have support and interest in what I'm doing. I saw lots of familiar faces and had the opportunity to meet some new people who are very involved in the arts here. Sometimes a simple conversation can bring about some new ideas and I will be working on some new things very soon. The most important being revisiting the Barter Van concept and gearing it towards trading with artists of all genres instead of the general public who need to pay their bills and aren't necessarily interested in art. As much of a loner as I am I'm beginning to understand how important it is to have people to bounce ideas off of and I think interacting with creative people will make my next venture out all that much more inspiring. But more on that later.

One of my favorite things about my travels and this show is the stories other people tell me of their own past adventures or future plans. My choice to give up my belongings and comforts have inspired people to follow their own dreams. This, in particular, is a wonderful feeling since I have been inspired by so many myself. Sometimes I have to pinch myself. I'm still floored when someone likes what I've made enough to purchase it and have it in their lives. I don't think I will ever get used to that. It's surprising and flattering every time. There's nothing quite like actually living out your biggest dream. It can be done.

Next up in my plans is to put this hide-a-way house back to it's cozy self. I have to start packing up all my materials and load the van back up for this coming weekend when I will be moving in with some friends for a while. I'll be starting work with my sister's moving company and in my spare time revamping the barter van concept. I would love to get back on the road for June but I think that's quite optimistic. Even so, it's important for me to set a date and work towards it. Someone asked me at the reception if I'm panicked or worried about my future. The answer is no. You would think being homeless with an empty bank account would cause some panic but it doesn't. My answer is that I'm lucky enough to have the support of my friends and family and no matter what happens I won't end up on the street. That's all I need to know to have the confidence to keep pushing forward. Plus, I'm just getting started!!

Two weeks till show time.

It's been quite a while since I've popped by my blog. As you can imagine I've been spending all my time putting together my exhibition, which I titled Roadside America. Working away today, I had the realization this is the first time I've had the luxury of preparing a show without having to work a day job. No wonder my stress level has been low. Well, relatively low. There's always numerous silly little technical difficulties that happen to make you slightly panicky but to be able to deal with each issue immediately is a gift.

Along with working on the exhibition pieces I've put together a map showing my route across America and back. I photographed the actual maps I used and pieced them together in Photoshop, lining up the highlighted drive. While traveling I encountered many people who were shocked that I didn't have a GPS. They couldn't believe I wasn't getting lost but the truth was I did get lost, quite a bit, but it often lead to me seeing something cool or talking to someone interesting. So, I became much better at reading maps and knowing my north from my south and east from west. A handy thing to know.

I thought it would be interesting to use the compiled maps to indicate where I took the original photographs used in the final pieces. (In the map above the images are blurred. A good friend of mine has been doing her best not to see any of the images beforehand.  I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for her now would I?) The map will be on display during the length of the show to highlight my route and to lend context to the work. Looking at the map now all I see are the places I haven't been yet; so much left to explore. Soon. Fingers crossed..

I hope people have the time to come say hi to me during the opening reception of American Roadside. It will be at Argyle Fine Art, 1559 Barrington Street Halifax, Nova Scotia from 7-9pm on Friday, March 22nd. 

Reviews and a Comic Strip.

The Barter Van and I have been getting some attention lately so I thought I'd write a quick post to share. My story has been published in three magazines; Halifax, This and Broken Pencil.

I was in contact with all three publications while on the road and it was wonderful to see what was written when I returned to Nova Scotia. I feel very lucky to have so many people interested in what I've chosen to do. It's also a great reminder of the last six months as it feels a bit like a dream now.

Enjoy!
(Hopefully you can read these articles. My scanner is packed somewhere so I had to photograph them)

Halifax Magazine, December 2012. Written by Nicole Trask.

Broken Pencil Magazine, Issue 58. Illustrated by Patrick Burgomaster.

This Magazine, Jan/Feb 2013. Written by Matthew Ritchie.

From the city to a van to the country.

One thing about hibernating and being on my own for a long time is I have oodles of time to think about things, something I spend a lot of time doing anyway. First, I wonder if I should keep writing this blog when I'm not actually traveling or living in my van. I feel like I'm still on the journey though so I figure I'll touch base when I have something I want to share. After all, I am still in the midst of working through the realities of my life long dream to travel and make art.

I've been thinking about adaptability. This past year of my life has been a lot about adapting to situations and being happy to do so. I have gone from being a 40 hour a week, bachelor apartment dweller in the city, to living and traveling in a van with a dog, to hibernating on the wintry shore of Nova Scotia in a quiet little village. I have stayed with strangers, close friends and family and have felt at ease in all places. Now, in this wonderful little house, I am feeling right at home.

This part of the journey feels like a test run for how I envisioned my future. I have dreamed about living away from the city, but close enough to commute, and working solely on my own art. For the past week that's exactly what I've been doing. My routine has been get up, make coffee, work for a couple hours, take Okie for a walk (if it's not bloody freezing out), work some more, make a big pot of something, work till bed then read. I treat my own work like a regular job. I put in at least an 8 hour day and most often times much more than that. I have chores which are new to me here. There is a lovely wood stove so I have to bring in fire wood and kindling from the basement as well as pile wet wood from the outside into the basement to dry. The wind here can be quite brutal so I've learned quickly when I get a calm day I get outside. It's my first time doing this kind of thing and it makes me feel good to get off my lazy but and do something physical.

House I'm renting

Nanny's watching.

A beautiful walk/break.

When I dreamed about living like this I questioned whether I would be disciplined enough to put in the hours like a regular job. Apparently I have the opposite problem where I don't get away from my computer enough. Okie has taken to sitting at my feet and lightly growling for me to take her for a walk or play. Life is boring here for a little dog who's used to being on the move. (not that she's not spoiled with toys, it looks like a daycare in here).

Having a deadline for my work helps motivate me a lot. I am a perfectionist so knowing I have a timeline forces me to complete things. I've picked a corner of the house to set up a work space where there's lots of light and a big table. I'm the luckiest person alive to be able to do what I've been doing and if I can make the rest of my life resemble the last six months I've achieved my dream.

Studio nook.

What I've learned part three.

I arrived home this past Saturday evening. It feels like I've been gone for a long time and no time at all. It's going to take some time before I can fully understand the impact of what I've experienced but people's questions are helping me to process everything.

The main change I notice in my outlook on life is the way I think about my future. I have anxiety and used to constantly get worked up asking myself, what do I want to do with my life? That was the big question and the most pressing one I had before deciding to go on the road. I now realize, and I mean truly understand, that it's a question with an impossible answer. The question for me now is what do I want to do next? Traveling and having to live day to day, in the moment, taught me to make more short term goals. Right now I can only plan the next four months of my life. In the past I would have found it incredibly stressful to have such a vague plan for my future but now I find it liberating. I have short term deadlines and goals and all I can do is work towards them. If they don't work out things will be re-evaluated then. So far I feel no anxiety about where I will be in four months. My van may rust out and fall apart and my exhibition may bomb making my goal of heading back out on the road in June an impossibility. Any number of things can happen to change my planned trajectory and I have no control over any of it. This new acceptance doesn't make me feel helpless. It gives me power, knowing I can only put my best foot forward and the rest will happen as it will. I do, however, realize this way of living is a luxury because I only have myself to think about and plan for.

A close friend of of mine asked me what I learned about myself. It's so much easier to talk about the bad qualities one has than to recognize the good ones. I am well aware of my faults but the one good quality I realize about myself is that people respond well to me. As someone who is consistently self-conscious about what I'm saying, whether I sound stupid or look socially awkward, I have come to realize what I see in myself is not what I project. Perfect strangers have told me I'm inspiring, brave, strong and non-judgmental. An East Indian man, who owned a motel, thanked me for taking the time to talk to him, stating most white folks don't give him the time of day. I've been thanked for not judging a neighbor at a motel and for being open-minded and accepting of people. My old boss told me she liked that I would talk to anyone and everyone the same way. Obviously I travel to see the different landscapes but I find the people I meet are what makes the journey. Everyone has a story and I think because I'm a good listener it bring people to me. I prefer to listen to other people talk than to talk about myself.

Working towards what I thought was an unattainable or crazy goal and actually making it happen has given me confidence and a more peaceful mind. I have seen what I can accomplish and with my new less anxious and more patient outlook on life I feel like I'm on the right track. Next, I move into the house in the country, set up a studio space there and get down to business making the new pieces for my exhibition in March. I'm beyond excited.

Almost home.

I knew when I woke up and saw Okie's water frozen in her dish we had to start sleeping in motels. Despite my father lending me a heater it is too cold for me to keep sleeping in my van now. My cooking fuel doesn't work under freezing temperatures (no making coffee in the morning) and the majority of campgrounds and state parks are closed for the season. It was time to give up the fight and fork out the cash.

Maybe I should have spent more time in the southern states but sometimes I just keep driving. I really do enjoy driving and I'm doing a lot of it. The last campground I stayed at was on the outskirts of Culpeper, Virginia and it was quite the place. It looked like most of the trailers there had been parked for a long time; a lot of permanent residents.  The maintenance man, Kevin, who is in charge of 16 acres all by himself (so he kept telling me) provided me with the space and lifted the rusty barrel off the power box so I could plug in. About a half hour later another burly man in a hunting jacket comes to collect my $25 and tells me if it gets too cold I can "come on up to the house and sleep on the couch". Southern hospitality hey?!

The first motel was Granny's Motel in Frackville, PA. I chose to sleep there because the statues on the outside caught my attention. In it's heyday I'm sure it was quite the place but it looks to me like it has been passed by the interstate, leaving it to fall into less than stellar condition. I like places like this though and it's cheap so it was our home for the night. You may not be able to tell but their eyes are quite vapid and the kid is holding a headless doll.

Tonight I am at a Motel 6 in Massachusetts somewhere. As I heat up my dinner of beans and rice I see my reflection in the mirror. I'm definitely looking a little worse for wear. I drove all day without taking enough breaks. Okie and I aren't as inspired to go for long walks as we used to be. She doesn't seem to like the cold any more than I do. Am I complaining? Maybe a little but I'm coming home for all great reasons and with a new goal. I'm excited about the way things are looking for the next four months. Plus, the closer I get the more excited I am to be seeing my friends and family. Let the next chapter begin.

Savannah. Two nights for $12.

The first great thing about Savannah, Georgia, is I can park my van at the Visitors Center for 48 hours to the tune of $12. The building is next door to the art college's gallery as well as 10 blocks to the historic river front downtown. I love being able to leave my van in a safe place, call it home, and go out for walks in a new city.

At one point while driving there I had to come onto the breaks, hard, sending the items stored under my bed flying through the hatch and crashing forward between the seats. I thought, 'well, this can't happen', so I stopped at an Ace Hardware to buy a hinge. What started out as a simple fix became an hour long back and forth with one of the employees. But, we did figured it out and I felt better having fixed the problem.

I also stopped at "Artistic Taxidermy Shop and Museum" to look around and take some photos. I made the mistake of getting into a conversation with the owner about hunting, consequently keeping me stuck there for 15 minutes longer than I wanted to be. I should probably learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.

On arriving in Savannah, I parked the van and we toured the southern historic district on foot. It is similar to New Orleans' French Quarter but smaller and cleaner. You can buy a drink, daiquiris are the specialty, and take it along for the walk. The same as in New Orleans. This also produces drunk, loud puking people, however on a much smaller, more tolerable scale. It's a very pretty place and I feel quite safe everywhere I've walked. I've been very good at keeping a low budget. I've been doing as many free activities as possible. So far I've managed to spend about $10 on beverages, including the $5 coffee I treated myself to at the coffee/wi-fi spot I'm writing from. The rest of the time is spent walking, sitting in a park or window shopping.

Today we took a little road trip to Tybee Island which is toted as an artistic island with a 3.5 mile length. We took an illegal stroll a short ways on the beach; dogs aren't allowed anywhere there it seems. I meandered along the shop-lined streets but didn't feel too inspired to shop. The one place I found that I did browse in was just on the outskirts of downtown, on my way back. They had pile of stuff to go through and I was very tempted to but a an old neon sign letter but I restrained myself. It was a red letter C and it was lovely. Alas, there is no shopping for unnecessary things when you live in a van. Sigh. Back into Savannah I took Okie to the big park and sat in the sun with her tied to a long lead so she could explore and eat things. Just before we get up to go, a photo student and her friends come over and ask if they can photograph Okie. She's using a film camera and shooting black and white and developing it herself! Hallelujah!! I didn't think schools taught film anymore. I'm thrilled and of course Okie hams it up for them.

I like it here. The east coast of Georgia is full of swampy lands, island, rivers and bridges. The city is easy to navigate. Either I'm getting better at this or it's really well planned. Back on the road tomorrow. South Carolina bound.

Shrines and bikers and hooligans, oh my.

On Friday night I met a few people in the park who took a liking to me and offered to take me out the next night. We started with an old shrine built by a man in the 20s, then to a great restaurant and ended the evening with drinks at a seedy fishing shack/bar.

From Wikipedia; The story of St. Anne's Shrine goes like this: A man from Canada, (believed to be Napoleon Pelletier) came down to Florida with his very sick son. His son had been diagnosed as terminally ill. While traveling in Florida, they came upon the little lake at what is now St. Anne's. They swam and camped there and the boy's condition improved, and he was miraculously cured. His cure was attributed to the healing waters, and so the man single-handedly built a shrine to St. Anne, a popular Canadian saint associated with water, in an oak hammock next to the lake. The Catholic Church eventually demolished most of the church, leaving only the altar. Several stone walls, and the original steps of the church remain.

 

While there, I mentioned to them I wished I had something to leave on the altar. Janet just happened to have some Christmas ornaments in her car and amongst them were two angels. They had survived a bad car accident she and her mother were in so they had great significance to her.  Saying a prayer, they placed them on the altar. It was a lovely way to end our visit.

From Cherry Pocket's website; According to folklore Cherry Pocket was discovered in the late forties by two men, one named Mr. Cherry.  Because of the way the land lays with the canals, they thought it looked like a pocket, therefore... CHERRY POCKET. It was a place for hardy fishermen and very few women.  Rumor has it at distant times there have been cock-fighting, gambling, gator wrestling and of course lots of "Big Fish" caught in Lake Pierce and many "Big Fish Stories" to go along with that.

The Tavern started out as a small room with a front door and a back door, a few groceries and bait and tackle.  We've heard stories of men riding their horses in the front door of the tavern for a drink and out the back door.  We also heard stories of men coming in the front door and flying out the back door with a little help from someone's fist.  

Cherry Pocket is found in the middle of nowhere. The closest town is Lake Wales, where I am staying, about 20 minutes down a windy road. Their website shows a pretty place with beautifully presented food. What I saw was something completely different. When we arrived at 8:30 there was no one left but bikers and a few other stragglers. The door was opened for us by what looked like a 12 year old boy but was actually a woman. The bartender was an older bleach-blond woman with tattoos up and down her body and all the waitresses were similarly adorned. The music was provided by a 30-something country guy and his guitar who belted out old tunes by Johnny Cash, Hank Williams and Mike Ness. The beer was cheap and I bought the first round for my new friends. This was my kind of place!

I've met quite a few people in my folks community, all whom I like a lot, but I would be willing to bet these three are the hooligans in the park. I'm happy to have met them.

Preparing to go....again.

As I prepare to make the trek back to Nova Scotia I have a flood of memories from the past four months. It's been an amazing journey and it's hard to accept this part is coming to and end, but with an end there is also a new beginning.

I had originally planned to head straight home without wandering or exploring, due to dwindling funds, but I am now reconsidering. I was reminded by my step-mother that if I choose to do that my journey actually ended a month ago when I arrived in Florida.  I have had some wonderful adventures here as well, ie hanging with Larry in the Everglades, but I have mostly been working day in and day out on creating new work. My representing gallery, Argyle Fine Art, has a group exhibition every January called Pre-Shrunk. Every submitted piece measures 4x5 inches and it attracts all kinds of artists form all sorts of disciplines. I spent the better part of December creating new work to submit to the show and finally got them sent off in the mail. The new pieces for my donators are also on their way to their new homes. Thanks once again to all of you!

Adding a patina to the aluminum with Muriatic acid.

Finished pieces.

I am heading home a month earlier than I had intended so I can work on a new exhibition, opening March 22nd at Argyle, featuring images from this journey. I am excited to have the opportunity to show new stuff and have been working very diligently to make it happen while trying to ignore the fact that it's hot and sunny outside. As I keep telling myself though, there are worse things than having to stay inside to work on my art. This is all such a dream come true and I can't wait to get back in the studio, when I find one that is. The last time I put together a show I used the barter system to gain access to a studio. I traded a bike I wasn't using for the use of my friends studio space. (Maybe that's where the barter van idea originally came from) I love it when two people get something they want without having to dig into their pockets.

The time has flown but I have no regrets and am so grateful for everything I've experienced, both good and bad. I was once told a long time ago that life will flow much easier when you're not fighting against the tide. When you follow the path you truly want and not what you think you should do. Now, I'm not saying these past five months have entirely been a walk in the park but it sure seems like everything is working out fairly close to the way I imagined. I would dare to say even better than I could have hoped.

So, the van is washed and my father reattached the front bumper, which I just noticed had rusted off on the drivers side. My art supplies have been put back in the van, I've pulled out my gloves and winter hat and I have all the emergency road condition numbers written down. I have enjoyed so much spending time here this last month and while I am sad to be leaving my folks, and all their spoiling of me, I'm looking forward to seeing all the people at home who have stayed with me and supported my crazy endeavors. As much as I am a loner, I could never have done any of this without the strong support system I have.

Now I just have to mentally prepare myself for the cold weather. I can't wait to see what Okie thinks of snow!

A trail in the Everglades is not necessarily a trail.

After spending the night camping too close to other people for our liking we head to the most remote camping spot on the map. It's a free site which makes it all the more better. With a van full of provisions we head down the 25 mile dirt road to a hidden spot where we'll set up home for a few days. It's what's referred to as primitive camping without power or water hook-up.

On the way there Larry is excitedly looking for any kind of reptile he can interact with. There are alligators lining the road on both sides and birds galore but what he really wants to find are snakes. Before becoming a hobo he raised and bred reptiles. With a shout of "STOP, STOP, STOP!" I just barley break in time to avoid running over our first snake. Larry jumps out before we are even at a full stop and before I can blink he has the snake in his hand. I'm not afraid of snakes but I certainly wouldn't go picking them up without the experience of knowing how to handle one. Have you ever seen such a happy person?!

The next morning we he makes a big breakfast of oatmeal and bananas, I pack a lunch and some water and we head out on what we think will be a day hike in the Everglades. I talked to the ranger at the gate and he gave me a map of the trails and told us where to start. Now, let me just say we may not be the brightest tourists but in our defense it looked like the trails would be marked and easy to follow. I mean, there's a map of them after all. We set out at 10:30. In the beginning we are excited to notice every bug, plant, lizard and bird we see. We walk thorough tall grass, between pine trees, under palm trees and through cypress swamp all the while happily chatting about what we see.

I'm guessing we lost the trail after we walked through this area of swamp. The trail posts we found after wading up to our thighs in water had either rusted so bad the tags were gone or melted into an unrecognizable twisted mess. It was about 3:30 and we would be out of sunlight soon. After  trying to retrace our steps several times I was terribly turned around and everything looked the same. Larry looked at me and gave me two choices. We either continue to try and find the swamp we walked through and therefore get back on the trail or I follow him while he makes his own way out. "But you don't know what's out there" I say. "No, I don't" he replies. I'm calm on the outside but inside I'm convinced we are going to die out there with no ID on either one of us to identify the bodies. We didn't even have matches to start a fire! With clenched teeth I agree to follow his instincts. He excitedly starts off towards the sunset. We had the sun to our back on the way in so it made sense to have it in front of us on the way out. I follow him in silence for what seems like forever and then I ask him, "are you not panicked at all?" Picking some kind of plant, he replies, "no, I don't panic until the end" and he smiles. I have to admit his calmness and confidence helped me keep my own worries in check. The only thing I could do to help get us out was to follow in silence and not freak out at him.

Then came the sound of cars. The highway! A half hour later we reached the road, but where the heck were we? This was not anywhere near where we entered the 'trail'. Luckily there was a map where we exited as it was an entrance for wilderness camping. We would have to walk about 5 miles up the interstate and then hop a tall, barbed wire fence to get back into the preserve and then walk another 4 or 5 miles up the dirt road to our site. We were both soaked and muddy from the knees down. My rubber boots were almost filled to the top with swampy water and the air was getting colder with the disappearing sun. We set off walking anyway. There was no choice. Okie had been in the van all day and I worried about her.

We walked maybe a mile or so when I heard a vehicle pull over behind us. It was Alberto, a Road Ranger, stopping to find out why we were walking on the I-75 when it's illegal to do so. We told him our story and he wasn't surprised by it. Not long ago a Norwegian man got lost for 2 days in the Everglades.

Alberto called a Highway Patrol car to come take us back to Bear Island. While we waited he offered Larry a sweater and me some chocolate. He had a bag of bars with him because he was trying to quit smoking and thought they would help. He shared many stories with us about other people he had found along the road while we waited for the patrol officer. Jason arrived within a half hour and he drove us to the entrance of the campground, leaving us to walk the one mile or so left to get to our site. It was the longest mile I've ever walked and the happiest I've ever been to put on dry socks.

In the morning we decide we'd seen all we want to see of our current location so we drove further down the 41 and enter the Collier-Seminole State Part in Ten Thousand Islands area. Once again we are told there are no camping spots left but after talking to them for a few minutes they decide to put us in the youth group camping site all by ourselves. We were the happiest campers there I swear. We had a huge area all to ourselves with our own driveway. We are both ridiculously lucky people.

As we sat drinking and chatting over the fire that night we hear various shouts of happy new year from the campers outside our little haven. Both of us are surprised it had gotten so late. We wish each other a happy new year and I run off to bed to get away from the relentless mosquitoes. By the end of our adventure we are both bitten pretty badly up and down our limbs. We celebrate the new year the next day with a canoe trip down the canals. It's a perfect day. The sun is shining, the water is calm and we are happy to paddle our way through our hangovers.

For the second time I drop him off at the edge of town and watch him disappear into the woods. This time he heads towards his home. I beep the horn and wave good-bye while Okie barks out her own farewell. She really likes that guy. It's a hard thing coming to realize I will very likely never see him again. I am very grateful to have made such a friend and enjoyed traveling with him. I remember saying before I left home I couldn't imagine finding someone who would want to travel the way I do. Larry is that person and I enjoyed our time together. I wish him the best of luck finding his way and hope we will never lose touch completely.

The hitchhiker returns.

My thoughts were on Larry the Hitchhiker as the holidays approached.  He would be spending Christmas alone in a tent. I asked my folks if he could join our family dinner and they agreed it would be a nice thing to do. He accepted my offer but refused to let me pick him up; he is currently residing in Naples, just over 100 miles south. So, he thumbed his way back north and made it here by Christmas eve. He fit in like he was part of the family and enjoyed being fed till he burst. My step-mom said to me at one point, "this is what the spirit of Christmas is supposed to be about, giving to someone who doesn't have anything." I couldn't agree more. We all woke Christmas morning, gave each other no gifts at all and shared a wonderful breakfast complete with orange juice made from the tangerines picked off the tree out back. I have been trying for years for to get my family to do away with giving gifts, except for the kids. Was it weird waking up to no gifts? No, I think just made us focus on each other instead. For the first time in years we had a big traditional Danish Christmas dinner and invited three couples from the community to join us. The meal was wonderful and everyone enjoyed taking part in our tradition.

I pitched the idea of going down to the Everglades for New Years to Larry and he was more than up for it. He is experienced when it comes to camping and reptiles and I couldn't think of a better person to explore that area with. We left on the 27th and headed down the east coast, camping the first night near the Coast of the Atlantic ocean. In the morning we swam in 72 degree ocean water. Quite a difference from the Atlantic waters off the coast of Nova Scotia! We were the only ones in the water and obviously tourists since it's too cold at that temperature for the locals.

It took us two days to reach highway 41 which cuts from east to west with the Everglades to south and the Cypress National Preserve to the north. It's getting dark quickly so we pull over at the first camping sign we see in Gatorland. The female park ranger informs us we need to be in a self-contained unit with a bathroom to camp there. Now, I am a firm believer if you continue talking and maintain a friendly demeanor people are more likely to help you. I know when I was in retail I would go above and beyond to help someone if they were nice to me and only do the bare minimum for a person who wasn't. So, I began to explain to her that my van is equipped with a bathroom and we only need one nights accommodation. She brought out her husband to talk it over with us and said it would be $32. Well, both Larry and I expressed with a sigh how expensive that is for us and as we got into some small talk with them they seemed to have a change of heart.  They told us down the road is some free camping and if there's no spots available they would let us camp there for $10. It's not the first or last time we are somehow able to talk our way into getting a spot.

Favorite sign on the way south.

Camping at monument lake.

The real adventure begins the following day when we head to the most remote free camping site on the map. To keep this post from getting too long I'll continue the story in the next post where I'll tell you about Larry picking up snakes from the road and how we got lost in the Everglades and had to be brought back to our campsite by highway patrol.......

Expenses.

While traveling I have been doing my best to keep track of how much I spend. I keep receipts for everything and record them in my day planner at the end of each day, with the exception of this month because I've been staying at my folks place. I wanted to give myself an idea of how much I spend on certain things, ie. food, gas, lodging, so that I can budget better in the future. So, I share this information in case anyone out there is thinking about embarking on this kind of adventure.

SEPTEMBER
Nova Scotia to Oklahoma

Accommodations: $133.18
Entertainment and Touristy Things: $69.71
Food and Drink: $449.55
Supplies and Maintenance: $439.37
Gas: $921.39

The first month on the road I stayed for free most nights so my accommodation costs were quite low. I spent 4 nights in Highland, NY when I had the concussion, 2 nights in Ardmore, PA at a friends, 3 nights in Maryland at a friends house, and 4 nights at other acquaintances I met while traveling. All for free or trade. Most other nights I parked on the side of the road or at truck stops. $300 of the supplies and maintenance went to a new battery and exhaust repair for my van.

OCTOBER
Oklahoma to California and back to Arizona

Okie (new expenses after adopting my dog): $235.00
Accommodations: $211.50
Entertainment and Touristy Things: $667.86
Food and Drink: $502.50
Supplies and Maintenance: $1377.71
Gas: $650.00

I spent more money on campgrounds the second month but it was also the month where I was given a free cabin at the Grand Canyon for 4 nights, stayed on BLM land outside Zion National Park and parked outside a friends place in Phoenix for a week.  My maintenance costs were the highest in October because I had to buy new tires at a cost of $750 and had some other work done to the tune of $450. Also, the entertainment category is quite high because I bought a season pass to National Parks  and treated myself to a new tattoo.

NOVEMBER
Arizona to Florida

Okie: $52.68
Accommodations: $135.04
Entertainment and Touristy Things: $221.50
Food and Drink: $373.48
Supplies and Maintenance: $117.39
Gas: $669.00

I started November off sick and still parked in Phoenix for 4 days. I spent 3 free days in Austin, TX and then 8 days couchsurfing  in New Orleans. I was also invited to stay at a friends in Panama City where I visited for 3 days and then headed down south to Florida where I am now.


Although I tried to be diligent and organized I can tell by the total spent over the three months I must have missed recording some expenses. It's off only by a couple hundred based on what I started with and what I have left in my bank account. The expenses recorded above equal $7236.86.  My goal now is to head back to Nova Scotia in February and exhibit some new work with hopes of financing my next adventure. Looking at my costs listed like this I'm sure I can do better, especially in the entertainment and accommodation categories. I will be heading out next time with more art work and a better plan for bartering.

It's been a while...

Staying with the 'rents in Florida has given me a much needed chance to get some work done, not only for people who donated to my travels, but also for Argyle Fine Art back  home in Halifax. Sometimes I need a break from my computer though so I decided to head to Sarasota to visit the Ringling Estates. Diane, in Gibsonton, told me about the Circus Museum there and I absolutely needed to go. It's not that I'm even a big fan of the circus. I haven't been since I was a small child. I actually have a thing for old circus poster art and the underground culture of the circus life.

Hitting the road again, even for a short trip, immediately makes me happy. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy here as well but there is just something about driving that puts me at ease right away. I already know I like driving but it wasn't until this trip I realized being behind the wheel of my van is one of my happy places. The roads look a bit different when you’re not on the move all the time. The glowing arches of a McDonald's is now just a sign for fast food, no longer symbolizing a place where I can connect my laptop to the rest of the world. Walmart parking lots are back to being a place where people park to shop and not a potential free sleeping destination. Things seem different when you have a home base.

I spent five hours at the Ringling Estates but didn’t manage to see it all. The estate includes their winter house, an art museum, circus museum, and a library amongst other small buildings. Because John Ringling's wife, Mabel, was keen on art they collected many pieces from Renaissance and Baroque painters as well at statues and sculptures from Europe. He wanted to learn as much as he could about the arts and ended up with an art library more complete than anywhere else. I have plans to go back and spend the whole day there soon since I didn’t manage to visit it this time around.
My favorite part of the circus museum, besides the original poster lithographs, was the miniature circus replica made over a period of 50 years. I’m a sucker for a good miniature scene.
I am currently adding up all my expenses for the last three months on the road. My next post will give you a sense of what it might cost if you are thinking about doing something like this. Stay tuned....