Wanderlust: The Bewildered Blood Dance

     The concept of "wanderlust" is enticing and edgy but not a true description of what I feel within the confines of my heart.  I like it, but I guess it goes deeper than simply traveling and checking out interesting destinations and cultures.  It also goes beyond living without an agenda or time restraint.  Both are great aspects to fire the soul.  And it's exciting to dream without any cares or limitations.  But my feeling of exploration resonates deeper than that. 
     I grew up in an area that was a tourist's utopia.  I've walked those beaches, swam those lakes, browsed those shops, hiked those paths, skied those slopes, and ran those trails.  I've driven those two-tracks, biked those hills, paddled those rivers, fished those creeks, climbed those trees, and marveled at those sights.  I'd do it again right now at the slightest invitation, because I simply don't tire of it.  Being able to immerse yourself into both wild and tranquil surroundings, and live life to the fullest within those opportunities, is like eating tacos for me.  I don't get full of them, I simply stop eating them; but only after numerous helpings.  Perhaps Mark Twain described it closest to how I feel, when in his story Roughing It he wrote, "Even at this day it thrills me through and through to think of the life, the gladness, and the wild sense of freedom that makes the blood dance in my veins..."
     In a simplified fashion, my son Todd and I explored beyond my usual boundaries and exploits yesterday, to find a spot to cook out on the banks of one of my favorite

rivers.  Favorite, because I can get lost in some of the area's leading back into that moving water.  Most people try to avoid getting lost, which is understandable in some areas and situations.  In Northern Illinois and Southern Wisconsin, however, you have to work at getting lost.  It's work that's worth the effort though.  Once, in a blinding snowstorm, with flakes the size of small flap-jacks, a friend and I got turned around in a small wooded area in the river's bottom-lands.  We found ourselves back at our original starting point after 15 or 20 minutes of trudging.  We laughed, adding that mistakes that happen in the woods stay in the woods.  So I'll only reveal that between the snow and the wind it got really confusing for the two of us.  Was it fun in the end?  You bet it was.  Confusing fun.  Not quite the challenge of ultimate survival or hoping you can live to tell kind of fun, but it was genuine under the circumstances.  Even Daniel Boone once said, "I can't say I was ever lost but I was bewildered once for three days."  That's classic rhetoric from a frontiersman who saw an untamed wilderness that hadn't been seen before and will never be seen again.
Our trip was only for a couple of hours, but Todd and I still marked into territory that was new to us.  Along the route I had mapped out in my head, we walked through deep snow, saw roosting bald eagles and worked hard to get our fire started.  It was a good mixture of awe and strain.  Maps are handy like that.  They can help you find areas in which to get lost; if not lost in the terrain, at least lost in spirit.  Conrad Anker, of the North Face Climbing Team said, "It's nearly impossible to get lost these days.  So you have to find adventure within yourself."  Adding to that, mountain biking author Bill Strickland added, "But if you can get lost in spirit and don't, you'll be missing a whole lot more than just a few new trails."

     Todd and I walked and talked while our two dogs ran and explored.  Topics ranged from school to friends and dreams to life.  I found the bewilderment wasn't in our wanderings or destination, but in what was unfolding before my eyes.  I shouldn't have been surprised as to what my wife and I have been prepping and training for, for almost eighteen years.  The little boy who once dawdled beside me, jabbering a mile a minute while swinging a stick at some imaginary arch-villain, had moved well into being a man-child and was now on the precipice of entering adulthood.  More than once I've said my own Dad is one of my best friends.  We seem to understand each other.  He listens and offers advice, has similar interests and models life with a purpose.  I should be so fortunate as to duplicate that into the next generation.  These years, as a Dad myself, it has definitely been an adventure; one that will be ongoing on a trail I am not going to miss.  True, it is a trail that leads on ahead of me, bending slightly into the unknown.  It is an adventure in which I am not sure I always have the right knowledge or equipment for.  It was and continues to be, however, worth every bit of effort.  I'm proud of my son Todd, and having him hiking alongside of me makes the blood dance in my veins as we move forward into unmarked territory together.  Wanderlust indeed.  
     See you along The Way...