I am both exhausted and exhilarated. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity as I've been spending every spare moment (excluding a brief sport climbing trip to Rumney) trying desperately to get the van ready for departure. (Hence the lack of posts in that time, my apologies for those loyal followers that have been wondering what's going on.) Alas, D-Day has arrived, but is the van ready? Well, thanks largely to a late stage assist from my father, it's ready enough.
Solar is not yet mounted, mattress is not yet in place, siding is not yet finished but I've got a huge drawer to store my gear and the lights are wired. I've spent all day packing and in just under 5 hours I'll be hitting the road. First stop, Washington D.C. After a brief two day pitstop I'll be on my way to Chicago, then Mt. Rushmore, Devils Tower, and finally to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where I'll be staying put for a little while to do some exploring of the Tetons.
The van is packed with (hopefully) everything I could ever need. With the storage compartments unfinished, there's not much room for activities, but I'll get to that eventually. As you can see, my provisioning is complete and my mind is already at the trailhead.
It's a bit surreal to be finally hitting the road. Years of planning, or more accurately, years of dreaming led me down this road. But it's not without the support of countless individuals - particular my parents and climbing partner Hobie - that I would ever have made it even this far. Their undying support of this nebulous journey has been with me every step of the way. And without it I would truly be lost. I'm not sure what to tell the people out here when I say goodbye. The truth is that I don't know when, or if, I'll be back again. It's been ten years that I've lived on the East Coast, and ten years I've waited for my opportunity to escape. The fatal pull of the New York black hole clings strongly to all within its grasp. But in ten years of traversing the I-95 corridor I've not once lost sight of those indescribable western landscapes. I long for the smell of pine trees and the burning lungs of high altitude; for the brilliant night skies and the brisk winter mornings. I miss seeing the miniature city skyline dominated by the looming mountain backdrop; the deep purple of a stormy night and the serene crystal glimmer of alpine lakes.
If all goes according to plan, in about four days my wait will be over.