Be it Ever so Humble

As many of you may have gathered from photos posted to our Facebook page and Instagram account, Adam and I spent a large portion of our accommodations in a tent. We received our Seedhouse SL2 second hand from a neighbor not long before the trip started; One of many gifts we would receive on this adventure. Whether we were in freezing cold rain just a stone's throw from the base of Mt. Hood, in a Midwestern thunder storm, camped in parking lots, backyards, carnival grounds, or Noseeum infested campgrounds, this light weight backpackers tent somehow managed to keep us warm, dry, and comfortable in any location. We also loved that we could pack it into a small dry bag and tie it to the front of my handlebars. After all, mobility is everything. 

 After a few weeks on the road, we found that our tent was providing more to us than shelter from the elements at night. We quickly came to understand that the tent became a home base and, shortly after, our home. There were many times we felt overwhelmed or had a rough day of riding. It was always soothing as we pulled off and stacked our shoes in the tiny vestibule as we did the intricate dance of those sharing a two person backpackers tent do. Not only did our tent protect us from the elements, it gave us a safe haven where we could rest, collect our thoughts, and strategize for the next day of adventure. At one point we found ourselves with a massive rip in the rain fly (I have a theory that Sasquatch tried to walk through the tent in the middle of the night). Lucky for us we happened to be in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, which is the town Big Agnes is based out of. I called them up, told them our story, and before we knew it we were getting a tour of the coolest place chock full of adventure gear geniuses. We got the Sasquatch rip taken care of and even got to sit around with the sewing crew and talk gear for a while. The great times and incredible luck in Steamboat Springs are just one example of how things generally went for us and our tiny home. If we really needed a place to stay, we would always eventually find it. And when we needed a place to find peace and regroup, there was no better place to find it than at home, wherever home happened to be pitched for the night.

Day 12 A man named Murry

While travelling east through Idaho on Hwy 12, we had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Murry. We had just bathed in the brisk waters of the Clearwater River and were beginning to be on the lookout for a place to bed down for the night when we zipped past Murry while he was walking along the road side with the largest pack I've ever seen on his back. We soon found a beautiful little wayside that was littered with wild daisies across the highway from  river. After exploring a bit and snapping plenty of pictures, we began to set up our tents and up walked Murry. He asked if he could share our spot and there was plenty of room, so of course we told him he could most definitely camp with us. I'm so glad we said yes to the universe and had the opportunity to share the evening with this man. He has been hiking all over the country since 2010 and shared with us the most incredible stories about his adventures. Not only were his stories fascinating but Murry himself was one of the most interesting people I've ever met. The way he knew the flora and fauna surrounding us, his philosophies of life, and the way he told stories were enthralling. At one point late in the evening while we were sitting around the campfire, Murry began to lament the death of his violin. He then recounted he numerous McGyver repairs he did on his instrument until sadly, he got caught in a heavy rainstorm, which caused the back of the violin to pop off and it became beyond repair. He then told us about how he worked for a time as a piano tuner's apprentice at the Berkley school of Music in Boston and that with time, all piano tuners became alcaholics. He believed it had a lot to do with listening to all those partial chords all day. When Adam and I told him about our musical background and the instruments we played, he became very excited. Especially about my playing the accordion. He asked me all sorts of questions about different accordions and their size versus ability. And then with a twinkle in his eye he told me about an opera he's been working on. You see, with all this time on the road to yourself, you have a lot of time to think. Murry is working on an operatic version of the Iliad. And with great gusto and an incredible voice, he sang us the opening song, explaining first that the scene opens with Homer's son playing an accordion. As I've said, this person was fascinating. I've never met anyone like him and I believe that I'll be hard pressed to meet anyone like him again. Meeting Murry on that highway in Idaho was such a gift. Not something tangible, of course, but a gift none the less. Something I will remember and treasure for many years to come. So Murry, if you're out there reading this, thank you for the time you spent with us while on your journey. May your days continue to be filled with wonder and adventure.