Knit Cap

Every adventurer needs an adventure hat, one that can keep the rain and sun off the head, and I have had mine for over 2 years now. It's a kangaroo leather outback hat that I ordered from an Australian manufacturer for use on backpacking trips. But many people, especially those whose heads are actually adorned with hair, tend to ignore the other type of adventure hat, the kind designed to keep the skull warm on those snowy days.

Just today a package arrived in the mail with just such a hat. A few months ago, my girlfriend contacted Meredith Kubricki at Fair Trade Knitters and inquired about a custom designed knit cap. The requirements were simple; natural color, tight knit, rugged and warm. Within a few days the design and material was pinned down. The style was very plain, more function than flair, and the yarn was spun from American Bison hair. This yarn was suggested for it's softness and durability.

As soon as the details were established, the order was placed and some kind woman in Ecuador began knitting my adventure cap. Several weeks later, we received an email from Meredith informing us that the cap was complete and it would be shipped to me soon. Now, with the cap in hand (or rather, on head) I understand what they meant by the softness of Bison fur. I always figured bison to be coarse creatures, but their yarn apparently is quite comfortable (thanks Mr. Bison). The cap as a whole is a pleasure to wear and the Ecuadorean woman did a fine job in knitting it.

Check out their site at Fair Trade Knitters and their new site at 1855wool.com

That Is All I Do

"The common miracles, the murmur of my friends at evening, the clayfires of smudgy juniper, the coarse, dull food, the hardship and simplicity, the contentment of doing one thing at a time: when I take my blue tin cup into my hand, that is all I do." That is one of my favorite travel quotes because, though it may seem vague, it speaks volumes as to why we venture out into the wilds.

When Peter Matthiessen picks up his cup on an expedition, he isn't casually lifting a glass of water as he would in his home because the things we do in the wild, similar in mechanics as they may be, are not done the same as when we in a domestic setting.

At home, if one is hungry, he may cook a meal, as his wife to warm up some left-overs, run down to McDonalds and grab a burger, or purchase something that can be heated in the microwave. The life-sustaining act of eating becomes a casual exercise that is merely done before we rush off to the rat race where we are in constant hurry to be someplace else. But in the wilds, in those dark, quiet places where man-made objects cannot be found, eating a meal is done to maintain strength, to keep us healthy, to survive and to slake our savage hunger. In the wilds, a simple meal means so much more because the act of eating carries so much more weight and importance. We do not eat and drink for pleasure or entertainment or fashion. We do it to keep ourselves alive. The act is simplified and reverted to its most primal level.

In the wilds, everything we do plays an important part on our experience. Each step can become a success or a disaster, depending on how our foot lands. We move away from the tiring, meaningless racket of the modern daily experiences into the setting where men, as a race, came from. The tame world challenges us in all the wrong ways and we can't live like that for long. We can't empty our minds and souls properly with all that racket. To do so we must find a quiet place and do things that hold meaning.

So when I pick up a blue tin cup to take a drink, that is all I will be doing.

Almost There

MySpace Countdown Clocks

A New Toy

One of the things I needed for my trip was a good, sturdy knife. I didn't want just any old fixed-blade cutting tool, but something with a little heft, a durable blade, and a lot of character. If I have to build a shelter in the woods, I wanted something capable of chopping through saplings without much trouble. I wanted a knife that could take the kind of abuse I'm going to dish out. I also wanted something I could defend myself with in case some lunatic decides to mug me.

Fortunately for me, I have a wicked-awesome girlfriend who also likes blades and thinks that custom birthday presents are the coolest things ever. Just before sitting down for breakfast this morning, she comes into the kitchen and places in my hand a gift, wrapped in what appeared to be butcher's paper with strange quotes printed on it, such as "Aayo Ghurkali" (the Ghurka's war cry 'The Ghurkas are upon you').

From this sinister bundle I pulled a custom made khukuri, a curved knife that's a cross between a skinning blade, a machete and a hatchet. It's designed to slice, chop, pry and the back of the blade even serves as a hammer. I've used a cheap one before, and though it was small and flimsy, it chopped like a machete. But this blade that I held at the breakfast table was no cheap, flimsy knife. This was a sturdy, menacing cutting tool.

The khukuri (at least the ones from khukuri house) are individually hand crafted, forged from the leaf springs from old trucks. The sheath, a green leather thing with a belt loop, is made from buffalo hide. Both the khukuri and the sheath are built to last, as is evident from their appearance and sturdiness.

The handle, a rosewood replacement for the unavailable buffalo horn, is thick and comfortable in my hand. It's been expertly shaped and feels like it belongs in my grasp. The tool looks primitive, and it is. It's a design that has been unchanged for hundreds of years. It's a farmer's tool and a hunter's tool. It's for expedition and defense. It has character and class, and in the hills of Nepal, some barefoot blacksmith is already at work on another one. It has a history already, and it has a future. Soon it will accompany me on an adventure.

F.A.Q.

Frequently Asked Questions


I've been getting tons of questions so I figured I'd post an FAQ blog to answer the most common and a few of the more bizarre.

Where are you going?
I don't know. When I leave my house in Sulphur, LA, I'm not sure yet if I'll turn left or right. I'm going to aim East, but would not be surprised if I end up in Oregon. The only destination that's set in stone is home. My trip will finish right where it started, but I'm not sure where I'll go while traveling. I guess it's wherever the road takes me.

Why are you doing this?
Simply because I want to. I feel the need to explore for a prolonged period of time and see what I can see. There's no deeper meaning, there's no religious significance, I'm not running from the law (I've been asked that one before), and I'm not terminally ill (I was asked that one also). I just want to do it and have wanted to for nearly a decade.

What will you do for food?
There are towns out there and in those towns are grocery stores. I've seen them. I've even been in a few. I'll purchase food as needed.

How long will you be gone?
If my math is correct (I'm terrible at math, so it's probably wrong), my trip should last roughly 1 year. That's what I've budgeted for. If I see what I need to see and feel the urge to come home earlier, then that's what will happen. If the trip runs long, it will run long. I don't have any reservations at hotels, so my plans can be quite fluid. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want.

How will you live?
Like a vagrant, I guess. I've found that sleeping under overpasses is quite comfortable (even during major hurricanes) and camping in the woods is fun and relaxing. I'll do a lot of that. I won't have a schedule except for the schedule my body sets. I'll eat when I'm hungry and sleep when I'm tired. I'll wake up when I'm rested and stop walking when I need a break.

Are you taking anyone with you?
No. This is a solo trip for me and me alone. Period. I'm leaving everyone and everything behind save for what can be carried comfortably on my back. Having someone walking with me would influence my decisions and alter my course.

You'll have your cell phone, right?
No I will not. I'm only taking three electronic devices: a cheap watch, a flashlight, and a small digital camera with a battery charger. The watch is solely for me to be able to check the date before writing in a journal. I probably won't even adjust it when crossing time zones. I don't want to be in constant communication and I'm not going to add an extra expense to the trip.

What about a GPS?
No GPS. No iPhone. No navigational gear. I'm going to explore the country by exploring it for myself. I'm not going to look up destinations in advance and chart a course a hundred miles in advance. I'm not even taking a map. If I hear about something interesting in an area, I'll get directions then.

What if you get lost?
In town, I'll ask for directions to the nearest grocery store so I can get food. Then I'll find train tracks and hike out. If I'm in the wilderness, I'm not lost. I don't get lost in the woods. Never have.

But what if you do?
You can't really be lost in the woods. Not in North America and especially not in the eastern half of the country. If you walk in one direction, you'll find a road and that will lead to something. Unfortunately there aren't many wild places anymore. I won't get lost in the woods.

Don't you have a girlfriend? How can you leave her?
Painfully. This trip is the most important thing in my life right now and if I didn't go, for any reason, it would be the worst betrayal of myself possible. I have to go and unfortunately that means that I have to leave certain people behind that I'd rather not, but that's the way life is sometimes. Each step I take will be one more step away from the people I care about and that will be the most difficult thing about this trip.

When are you coming back?
I should arrive back in Sulphur in the fall of 2010, but so much of the trip will be uncertain to even me until it happens, that I can't predict an exact arrival date. I guess I'll be back when I'm back.

Are you going to write about the trip?
I'm going to keep a journal of my travels and occasionally find a way to get online and post an update. Once I return, I will indeed write a book about my walkabout adventure.

What if you die?
Uh, I'll be dead. If I die, either by foolish accident or by malicious intent, it will be easy for the authorities to identify my body and contact my family. My Social Security Number is tattooed on my left hip below the waist line in big, bold print. I won't be a John Doe. If I die and find out about the light at the end of a tunnel or anything else pertaining to the afterlife, I'll be sure to post a blog about it and I'll include a spoiler warning.

I'm About to Die

Apparently imminent death is the only thing that justifies long-term travel. Yesterday, while looking at maps of Louisiana, Mississippi and Tennessee, someone asked what I was doing. When I told her about my trip she asked "did you find out you're about to die?"

How can people be so caught up in the mundane tasks of daily life that they can't imagine taking some time out to explore? In fact, most people I've talked to can't even comprehend the idea of exploration. They ask me what there is to explore. Perhaps they've seen the entire world and assume that I have also. Unfortunately, that's not the case. I have seen very little of the world and I believe that the people who can't comprehend my desire to explore will see far less than I will.

It's difficult to explain my motives to these people. They ask where I'm going and I tell them that I'll go wherever the road takes me. Then they ask "why?" I feel like I'm trying to explain the color of the sky to a blind man, and in a sense, that's exactly what I'm doing. To some people the idea of doing something unpredictable and adventuresome is so alien that it doesn't compute. Sort of like Calculus.

When the girl asked if I was about to die, my reply was quick and to the point. "Why would I wait until I am about to die to start living?" She said that she'll travel... one day. Maybe.

I doubt she ever will.

Wanderlust

Where am I going? That is the question that I am asked most and no one can comprehend the idea that I have no answer to that question. I am not walking for miles and miles every day to get to a destination. I have no destination, only a desire to explore and to see what is out there with my own eyes, on my own terms. I want to see the world for myself instead of traveling to a certain destination with a preconceived notion of what it should be like. There are no travel brochures for my trip and there is no itinerary. I do not want a package deal, all expenses paid. I want a raw adventure.

For me the destination matters so little that I don't even have one. I'm going east because I've never really traveled east before except for spending the weekend in Daytona while Hurricane Hannah was throwing a tantrum. I've been north as far as Missouri and west as far as New Mexico, but not really east. And even though I'm going to start walking east, I would not be surprised to find myself in Seattle or Portland.

The walkabout trip is for the purpose of satisfying my need to explore, to quench my wanderlust. If something looks or sounds interesting, I'll set off in that direction. If I find something more interesting along the way and detour, I will not feel bad. If I miss a thousand landmarks and fail to see a thousand sights, I will not be disappointed because I will have been doing exactly what I wanted at that time. I will do what is most important at that time. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And if I find myself in a place that no longer interests me, then I'll move on. Likewise, if the trip becomes a bore or I feel that my heart is no longer in it, I will turn around and go home, because that too will be the right decision at the time.


A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.
~Lao Tzu