Go West, Young Woman
If you read until the end of my last blog post, then you caught the teaser about my next trip. Yep, I’m heading west! It’s the summer road trip of a lifetime: seven weeks, coast to coast, New York to California and back again, all in my Honda Civic, and all by myself.
It’s wild. I’m leaving TOMORROW! According to my RoadTrippers itinerary, I’ll be passing through 24 states. Twenty-four states! That is nearly half the states in the union! Of course, Waze might have different plans for me, and I still don’t toootally know my route back eastward, so that could change, but still . . . it’s a crapload of states.
I’ve been working on my itinerary for about a week. You know me - when I travel, I kind of like to let things flow. I’m not huge on planning. I’ll put together a loose structure before I go and then work around that. I love the flexibility, love knowing plans can change easily, knowing I can do whatever I damn well please.
But this trip, encompassing a much larger scope than any previous one, demanded a bit more rigor. After all, I’m going across the entire country. I’m going to places and regions where I’ve never ever been. So I needed SOME kind of framework, and I also needed to plan ahead Shabbat-wise.
Thus THE SPREADSHEET was born.
It is the most thorough travel itinerary I have ever created. It contains all kinds of useful information - dates, points of departure and arrival, overnight stops, even the names of overnight lodgings if I’ve booked them, driving time and miles, sights to see along the way. It almost intimidates me with how organized it is.
It’s too complex for me to get into details right now, but here’s a general overview: I’m heading southwards, with my first big stop in Nashville, and then I’m heading south again, through Mississippi and Louisiana and over to Texas for Shabbat in Austin, then continuing west from there through New Mexico and Arizona and reaching Los Angeles around the middle of July. In L.A. I’m meeting up with a few old friends whom I’m very excited to see, I’ll do another Shabbat there, and then I’ll spend a week heading through California’s parks, mainly Sequoia and Yosemite, before going up to Tahoe and then spending a Shabbat in Reno (of all places!). Deep breath. Now things get a little hazier, and there are more question mark-filled cells on my itinerary spreadsheet as the route pushes across Nevada and Idaho to reach Yellowstone Park in Wyoming, where I’m planning to spend a few days (between there and Grand Tetons). Then I’m thinking Shabbat in Jackson Hole, but this is the only Shabbat which remains totally unconfirmed, so things could shift. From there I’ll go southwards into Utah, where I’ll hit some of its glorious parks (mainly Arches and Canyonlands) before heading next door to Colorado. There I’ll do a Shabbat in Denver, and then meet up with my bff, who is coming out to meet me for a few days (shoutout to Jill!) of hiking and camping in the Rockies. And then it’ll be time to head home. I’ll spend another few days shooting back across the country to Nashville again, do my last Shabbat there, and end up back in New York around the middle of August.
Whew! Just typing that out was exhausting. I can’t imagine what actually DOING it will be like.
No, but really, I honestly have no idea.
This is a very different trip from my Florida loop back in February. During that trip, I generally stopped for a day or so in each of my main destinations to hike, explore, sight-see, etc., so I wasn’t driving every day. Whereas on this trip, because of the distances I’m covering, I’m planning to drive between four and six hours almost every day, except for Shabbats. Plus, on the Florida trip I took the AutoTrain most of the way back, saving me many hours of driving. No such thing this time.
That’s a TON of driving. And while I discovered on my previous trip that I love driving, I’m not so sure I’m going to continue to love it for 7,500 miles, which is approximately how long the trip will take according to RoadTrippers.
As I typed that I just got a little shock. Over 7,000 miles?!?! Am I seriously doing this? Driving across the country AND back in seven weeks??!
Deep breaths.
Yes, I’m doing it. I’m fucking doing it!
Because of the increased driving time, there will be less time for actually stopping and enjoying the sights in most of the places I’m going. There are a few cities where I’ll spend an extra day or so - Nashville, Austin, L.A., Denver - and a few parks where I’ve scheduled in free days for hiking. And if I get really efficient at driving, and leave early in the morning most days, and arrive not totally pooped, then I might be able to carve some time out for myself in various cities/parks in the afternoons after I get to my daily destination.
But I don’t know. I don’t know what my days are going to look like - if I’ll have time to get in quick hikes in the afternoons, or stop at different interesting places along the way. Or if I’ll even want to do those things, if I won’t just be tired from the constant moving and traveling.
Because this time, I’m doing something else very differently, too. I’m CAMPING.
Camping, with a tent, in the great outdoors, on my own! Can you think of anything more exhilarating than that? This, for me, is the peak moment of pure independence, freedom, powerful womanhood, fearlessness, living. This is what I came here to do. I think that what I felt on my Florida trip, bursting joy’s grape against my palate fine, will just have been the first taste of what I will experience on this trip.
I will spend nights in campgrounds across the country - Virginia, Mississippi, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado - I will build a tent, build my shelter, and stretch out in a sleeping bag on the grass, in the desert, under trees, under stars, next door to massive RVs probably, within earshot of screaming kids, in silence, in cool night air, in sweaty summer sun. With bathrooms within walking distance, or without any running water whatsoever. Surrounded by forest, surrounded by sand and rocks, on a mesa, in a meadow. With no electricity for miles around, with free Wifi, a few feet from a parking lot, on the shores of a lake.
All of this, I will experience. I will drink in the stuff of life.
I can’t even IMAGINE what it will be like, guys. I can’t even BEGIN to imagine!
First of all, I’ve never camped in an American campground. My outdoorsy identity really only developed in Israel, so apart from the few hikes I’ve done since I got back, I’m not that familiar with the National Parks system, or the camping/hiking culture in the US in general. So that’s all new to me on a very basic level. Are people friendly or do they keep to themselves? Are they loud and noisy or quiet and considerate? Do they litter, or are our parks nice and clean? I don’t know! I’m going to find out!
And second of all, I have never camped by myself. I’ve camped numerous times with friends, and I’m handy, so I know how to set up a tent. (Plus, I practiced with my brand-new tent, a birthday present from my parents, in the backyard yesterday. So I’m a pro.) I also know how to start a fire, though I don’t anticipate building a lot of fires on this trip since I won’t be cooking. But if I had to, I could. I’m totally fine with peeing in the woods - in fact, I prefer it to gross bathrooms. And I’ve brushed my teeth without running water. (You just use a water bottle.) I’m a good sleeper, and I’m not very finicky about dirt. For all of those reasons, I’m the kind of gal who can happily camp.
My semi-home for the next seven weeks.
But I’ve still never done it alone.
I’m not scared, though I know a lot of people are scared for me. (Looking at you, Mom and Dad.) From what I’ve read on various forums and websites, people who camp out are generally friendly and normal, and I’ve purposefully chosen only official, designated campsites with an entry fee, facilities, and staff on-site. I have also been careful to pick campsites that I know are highly populated, so there’s no chance of ending up alone somewhere sketchy. I’m doing this the right way, as safely as I can. I am NOT doing any backcountry camping.
And I’m not camping out every night. I’ve worked out my itinerary to include a good mix of campsites, hotels, Airbnbs and local hosts. I originally came up with the idea of camping as a way to save money during my travels, because hotels were definitely the biggest expense on my last trip, and fees at campsites range from $20-$35 per night, as opposed to $60-$100 at motels or hotels. But that doesn’t mean I’m insane. I know, pretty much for a fact, that I am almost definitely not going to want to take advantage of the shower facilities at these campgrounds, however nice they might be. And I may love roughing it, but I also love comfort. So I’m interspersing my nights of camping with the occasional night at a hotel where I can shower in the privacy of my own bathroom, flop down on a big soft bed, watch TV, and charge my various electronic devices.
And we’ll see! Honestly, I don’t even know if I’ll like it! I’ve already reserved campsites at six different parks throughout the trip, so if I find out early that I don’t like it, that sucks for me. Maybe I’ll hate it. Maybe the parks will be so noisy and crowded that I won’t be able to sleep. Maybe everything I own will stink like smoke. Maybe I’ll be desperate for more privacy. Maybe I’ll be bored out of my mind at night after my laptop runs out of battery. I don’t know! There’s so much to discover! So many possibilities, so many adventures!
Okay, I’m getting all hyped up now. But honestly, this is it. This is what I wanted, what I’m seeking, what I need. Newness. Experimentation. Discovery. Opening up the borders of my little world. (Immigration subtext. Fuck Trump.) Everything is OUT THERE, waiting for me!
I’m diving in headfirst, by the way. My very first night - tomorrow night - I’m camping out at Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. I cannot WAIT. After tomorrow night, I’ll already know so much more than I do now. And that’s so EXCITING!
And for all those who are going to worry about me, I know. I feel for you. I love you. I’m sorry. I feel major guilt at inflicting stress and anxiety on you.
But I’m 31 years old. And I’ve got the itch.
I’m going where it takes me.