News from Jules | 08.28.2023 | The Whimsy Way: Part 1
Per usual, I chose the winding and indirect route—the very opposite of a shortcut—when I departed from Bend in Central Oregon a month ago.
First I headed south where I stayed with one of my best friends, her two sons, and her visiting parents in Arcata, Calif. for the weekend before actually heading north to my ultimate destination at our family reunion on Whidbey Island in the Puget Sound north of Seattle.
The first week I meandered through old favorites and new discoveries on the Northern California and Oregon coastline, including the Redwoods, the Samuel H. Boardman State Scenic Corridor, Shore Acres, the Oregon Dunes, and Neahkanie Mountain before crossing over into Washington.
“You should definitely take 101 directly to Olympic National Park and skip the southwestern coast,” said the coastal local sitting to my right at the coffee shop in Astoria, Ore. and looking over my shoulder at Google Maps of Washington. The vanlifer to my left nodded vigorously.
But I had never been and wanted to see for myself.
“Boy were they right!,” I thought as I drove along every detour from Highway 101 that kept me hugging the monotonous coastline of clearcuts, bays, harbors, and vast beaches oddly full of cars. Once I made it halfway up Washington, I was back to jaw-dropping awe of old-growth rainforests and rugged coastlines.
The second week through Washington I discovered Olympic National Park, Lake Quinault Lodge, Kalaloch Beach and the Tree of Life, Third Beach, Sol Duc Hot Springs, and Port Townsend, before taking the ferry over to Whidbey Island for our family reunion.
While my family reunion was the inspiration for the meandering, it became the first of multiple “ultimate” destinations on the road to see more of the West.
Not the end of the journey, it was just the beginning.
After five fun days with my family on Whidbey Island, I once again caught the earliest ferry—this time through Seattle heading south for a brief “layover” in Portland, Ore. to fix the check engine light issue, get physical therapy, resupply on groceries and visit a few friends.
The third week in Oregon again, I reconnected with some old favorites: Migration Brewing, Yoga at Buckman Elementary, Portland Rock Gym, Forest Park, and of course, Crema.
On the way east along Highway 84, I stopped at Stoked Roasters, one of my favorite coffee shops in Hood River, Ore., for a tea and treat. I realized how many times I had made this pit stop.
Once again departing Oregon. Never knowing for sure how long I’ll be gone and yet here I am departing again, I thought to myself.
The fourth week I meandered through old favorites and new discoveries in Eastern Oregon and Idaho including Chief Joseph Point, Wallowa Lake Lodge, Joseph, Hells Canyon Overlook, Old School Bike & Ski Hostel, Leslie Gulch, Craters of the Moon National Monument & Preserve and Teton Valley.
Everywhere I stop I make new friends.
After long hours of driving, I’m usually eager for company and I’m always curious about fellow travelers’ and locals’ stories. So, I end up in these deep, honest conversations. At some point, my new friend comments about the bravery to travel alone—“especially as a young woman” they usually add, since everybody thinks I’m 28-31 years old—and asks some variation of:
So, what are you doing?
The honest answer: I don’t know.
The long answer: Yes…
This is a vacation—an extended period of leisure and recreation spent away from home or traveling funded by my savings.
This is a road trip—a journey made by car and camping or occasionally crashing on an old or new friend’s couch.
This is a sabbatical—a break from work (except writing on Mondays!) for personal inquiry through study or travel.
And perhaps this is a mid-life crisis—a transition of identity and self-confidence that can occur in middle-aged individuals.
In Atlas of the Heart, researcher and professor Brené Brown, reminds us that we’re all the map makers and the travelers. She wrote that humans are meaning-makers and a sense of place is central to meaning-making. We need landmarks to orient us to our literal and existential questions: Where am I? How did I get here? How do I get there from here?
“I believe that with an adventurous heart and the right maps, we can travel anywhere and never fear losing ourselves even when we don’t know where we are,” said Brown.
I don’t know where I am in life, but I do know where I am today.
See whimsical photos from my adventures on Instagram.
I am writing from a coffee shop in Driggs, Idaho, one of the cute mountain towns that I tagged on Google Maps as “Want to Go” because one of my new friends along the way recommended it. Driggs (and Victor, ID, where I’m camping) sits on the Idaho/Wyoming border to my next “ultimate” destination of the Wind River Range.
I’m turning 41 later this week and I’m still choosing the winding and indirect route—the whimsy way—to guide my life’s path. I’m curious to continue saying yes to whatever feels right—whether or not it fits a preconceived plan—and see where inspiration takes me.
I am no longer afraid of losing myself.
I am the map maker and the traveler, but I am not a meaning maker.
I am a meaning weaver.
So, friends, I can truly answer your question: what are you doing? after I get there.
May you follow your whimsy way this week.
Love,
Jules
P.S. Read (or listen to) the whole series, including:
Happy Birthday tomorrow, Jules! May the tapestry you are weaving be bright and beautiful this year.