Waiting for the Last Gasp – Adam Overland

I have a tendency to excessively anthropomorphize. Once, in my younger, more experimental days, I took some mushrooms and had a 20 minute conversation with a Hibachi grill that was both adorable and enlightening. Tonight I hiked among the saguaro cactuses in Tonto National Forest, where I’m staying at Tortilla Flats campground, and couldn’t help repeatedly waving at them, since it looked like lots of them were being friendly and waving to me. Unfortunately, like a stranger at a bus stop, their friendship only goes so far and they stab you when you come in for a hug. 

I’ll say hello and chat with about any wild animal that I come across, asking what they are up to and commenting on the weather, usually. They don’t mind small talk. Plants get an earful, too, but I’ll also say a few words to things that are meaningful to me. I’ll tell my truck I have confidence in him (Blackie 2) when we have a big day ahead of us, for example, and I’m not immune to letting my favorite coffee mug know that, as the day begins, we’re in this together, so watch my back. 

Someone asked me if I get lonely on the road, and I’d be lying if I flat out said no, but I can honestly say, “not really.” In fact, I often feel more alone when I’m home in Minneapolis in my home without wheels than I do when I’m on the road. Maybe it’s because so many homes of my friends and family have family in them—my four siblings all have kids, as do most of my friends—and so shouldn’t I also have this? It’s hard for us humans not to compare ourselves with those around us.

Or maybe it’s the constant technology pull of being at home. You turn the TV or the radio on to keep the loneliness at bay. But on the road, my TV consumption is less than half what it would otherwise be, and my phone usage is down as well, while reading (my favorite place to be besides the outdoors is inside a book) is way up. 

And I suppose there’s also the novelty aspect of travel: there’s always something new to explore, and for me, on a trip through national forests and parks, that means nature—new trails and walks and hikes and bike rides and fishing—and I rarely feel alone when I’m outdoors. I feel like friends are all around me, waving and chirping and welcoming me into their world, even cheering me on. Thank you, I say. I’m so grateful to be here.