The Imperfect Seeker
Boondocking has a few components to it.
The “how” of boondocking is to dry camp - meaning your rig is not hooked up to water, sewer, or electricity. We have spent nights dry camping in a Walmart parking lot (actually called “Wally-docking”), at a Harvest Hosts, Wall Drug, the Petrified Forest, outside the Marfa Lights Viewing Area, or in our friends’ yards. This is not considered boondocking because it is still in an established place and close to amenities.
The “where” of boondocking is usually on dispersed camping land, Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land, or another isolated site. It’s basically camping in the middle of nowhere.
“You should be grateful that ….”
“It could always be worse …”
“Everything happens for a reason …”
“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle …”
These are all cliches I’ve heard far too many times. As a counselor, minister, and chaplain, I have lost count of the number of times these phrases are thrown around. When we say them we mean well - we really do. We want to bring comfort to the people in our lives who are suffering or dealing with challenging things. We want to reassure them that things will be okay.
Who am I? What am I like? What do I enjoy? How do I behave when I'm at my best? What about when I’m are at my worst? For many of us, these are lifelong questions.
On December 16th, we hiked in an area of Alpine, Texas where the pups could be off leash, run, and explore. We debated whether the hike was too long for our old man, Checkers, but decided to give it a shot. He had a blast! I haven’t seen him that energetic or happy in awhile. He would run off, and race back to us, panting and smiling and checking in for a pet before heading off to explore some more.
The last time I went to church on Christmas Eve was over ten years ago.
I was in seminary and my then-girlfriend had just proposed that morning. We sat together in the pew, sang carols, lit candles, and soaked it all in. Six months later we would be married in that same church. It was magical.
In some ways, that Christmas was the last time I attended church and didn’t feel “on.”
Being a full-time RV family, we are on a number of apps and groups of people living the same way we are. This means that we can check the reviews or comments on a place to help us decide if we want to stay there.
Our culture has this ideal of the holidays - everyone gathered together and laughing, drinks flowing, food that is perfect, sparing no expense. Well, for most of us some part of this ideal won’t come to fruition.
As a new hiker, I am learning a lot on the trails. I’ve learned which socks are my favorite, how to tie my boots, and that I am much more agile with a hydration pack on my back than carrying a bottle of water. I need to breathe differently on hills than on flat areas, and the teriyaki vegan jerky made by Primal is the best flavor.
I have learned not only about myself but also about human behavior, tendencies, and the things we need to make it through.
We have stayed in campgrounds, military bases, many Walmart parking lots, Home Depot parking lots (gotta switch it up sometimes), national parks, federally-owned public lands, breweries, and friends’ front yards (shout-out to Leah at “The Last Resort” in Ithaca).
At least a few times a day I find myself teary-eyed, with a lump in my throat.
Mostly, this happens when I realize that something is missing - the sound of a tail wagging against the oven, paws clicking on the floor, or the deep sigh of release Checkers would make when he would curl up in a ball next to my legs. Grief visits me frequently these days.