There's no place like home

Well, I'm home.  I mean, I'm in the midwest, so home...ish.  But not my homehome in Viroqua.  To clarify, I'm in Minneapolis, a city I know well enough it feels familiar.  I spent this past hitch working at sites around Minnesota with one brief foray into northern Wisconsin. Myself and my coworker, Stefano, are both from the area, so although it's not exactly exciting to survey prairie pothole trails (sorry--prairies and wetlands are wonderful, but the grasslands are kind of dead and barren right now), we were glad to see family earlier than expected.

We started in the very southwestern-most county of the state and work our way up the western border before edging in near to the Twin Cities and then to the northwest and finally east into Wisconsin.  I actually saw a surprising amount of wildlife-- I think it can be easy to become
disenchanted by the place you grew up in, especially when that place is the midwest, which is referred to too often as the "fly-over zone." Respect, please.  However, I have even given into that stereotype and expected nothing more than prairies and mosquitoes from this hitch. But I was lucky to see a rattlesnake (what?! I thought nothing deadly lived in these parts!), some cutie-pie river otters that snorted at us in attempts to frighten us, but instead garnered more of a cooing.  We saw a Sandhill Crane, a porcupine, and the coolest of all, we saw two black bear cubs at the Iron River Fish Hatchery.  awwwww they were SO CUTE!  I think I can gush more over bear cubs and panther babies than I can puppies and kittens.  You should look up baby panthers- they are deadly cute.

okay, I did it for you.  This is a baby Florida panther

We heard some fine midwestern accents.  We got hit with swarms of the first hatching of mosquitoes, but only for one night while camping, luckily, as the mosquito swarms prompt pbj dinners eaten while pacing and batting your arms madly.  Also they force you into your tent by 7 pm.  We went through tick hell, each of us regularly removing armies of ticks that marched up our pant legs after every trail that was at all grassy.  After such trails Stefano and I would look at our legs, look at each other, and, after removing as many as possible, head to the nearest gas station for a more comprehensive search. Ugh.  Ticks are truly zits on the earth- I wish I could incinerate every one I find.

We didn't take a whole lot of off time since we were focused on front-loading our schedule in order to make it home for a bit of time. But we did have a few down days.  One day we decided it would be cool to check out the North Country Scenic Trail, a trail that will stretch from North Dakota to New York when completed.  I've certainly had thoughts about hiking sections of it (I believe it is supposed to be close to 4,000 miles long) so I figured it would be good to test it out.  Well.  I'm NOT going to be hiking that trail anytime soon. Ticks, mosquitoes, ahem, no nice scenic vistas... we turned around after hiking about a mile.  Wimps, maybe.  But I spent four months working on the Pacific Crest Trail in WA, OR, and CA and land that trail goes through is unbelievable.  Now that trail is worth your sweat and tears.  In my opinion, of course.  Now I admit, I am probably a bit of a trail snob at this point.  So, that which we thought would be cool was not.  No matter.  After a quick gas station tick check we were back in the truck to go to our next mosquito-infested campsite.

This hitch, being back in the midwest, has prompted me to think more about my home--what is home for me.  The last time I packed up to leave Boise I was voicing my hopes that in a couple hitches I'll be
able to pack my bag in ten minutes flat.  Ready to fly cross-country in ten minutes or less.  Everything I need and want contained in a duffel and a cooler.  Wait-- everything I need, not everything I want.  Ever since I graduated college I've moved from place to place, starting in Alaska, the southern California, New Jersey, Washington, Oregon, and California again, now Boise, and, briefly, Arizona and Florida.  I know what I need but I'm starting to realize more and more, and miss more and more, the things I want.  Maybe that's a good lesson: to learn what you need, and then to fill in the gaps where you are missing those things you want.  For the longest time I traveled without a pillow... no room for such a luxury in my bag.  Well, not anymore!  Pillow comes with me-- and it's not a special camping pillow either.  It has a pillowcase. 

The most permanent address I've held since college lasted 8 months-- in southern CA.  But I wasn't there half the time.  And my bed was a foam pad on the floor.  Now my bed is the couch- at least in Boise. Wait, shouldn't I be moving up in the world?  I feel like a real mattress (maybe on the floor) is a good next step.  I think probably the most prominent thing missing from my travel duffel is the people
I've met and come to really appreciate in my travels. 

Right now I don't have a home, but I can find it in the people I am with.  Sometimes that person is myself.

I already posted this photo, but that's my mobile home... the blue tent.  Nick is by the tent, and that's Toji on his sleeping bag

In about a week I am off to Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts.