Doing It Slowly...
Then slowing slowly down
Observing other travelers is a great way to see the many ways I don’t choose to experience travel. I read some content creators’ travel logs and most of their “travel” time is spent in planes or trains or automobiles, and so little of that time is spent within the destination or taking in the surroundings. I guess if you’re going places for a specific reason it’s much easier to get caught up in following the checklist and keeping order.
Not my style.
I have taken many years to develop a slowed down, koala-like pace with which I approach life. I’m not a sloth, but I’m also rarely in a hurry.
As a result, my travel plans will frequently change until the moment actual movement begins. It’s as if the impulse to physically move in the world also moves the decision-making impulse that dictates where I’m headed. This welcomes a different sort of travel, and, I guess, it makes me a specific sort of traveler.
Whatever title comes with this sort of travel, it reminds me of an interaction I once had in Budapest, Hungry. My sister and I were traveling together (similar in style, but we have our differences) and we ended up at a beautiful hostel called The Nest1.
We stayed at The Nest a few nights and talked to many different travelers, each with their own style of travel, but the owner of the hostel shared with me the most profound approach to travel — do it slowly.
He told me about his farmland outside the city, the van he had converted into a mobile house for his family, and what parts of Budapest keep him coming back. He sounded very well traveled so I asked where in the world he had traveled. He answered with brevity. I had become accustomed to the travelers who list, on and on, all the countries they have visited, the cities within those countries, and the cultural differences so obvious when comparing them, but it was not one of these travelers in front of me.
So I changed direction and asked what it is about traveling that interests him.
This question was much more appropriate.
He liked to see things slowly. Traveling by train or plane doesn’t allow you to set a pace. You are restricted by such methods of travel. You rescind control.
You may get to where you’re going, but consider all the things you’re missing in between2. You’re literally missing everything as you watch it go by.
I couldn’t agree more. The trip my partner and I are currently embracing had a skeleton at the beginning: leave Denver for 2-3 months and see the West.
This began as following the Rockies up to Banff National Park in Canada, moving westward toward the coast, then following the coast down to Redwood National Park.
Lofty goals, but seems reasonable for 12 weeks, right?
Well, we’re creeping into week #4 and we’ve traveled about 850 miles total and find ourselves about 300 miles away from Denver. It would take us about 6 hours to drive back to Denver. We’re definitely doing it slowly.
As a result, we’ve stopped planning what’s next. If we make it to Glacier National Park then we’ve made it there, but if 10 tiny towns capture our hearts and we decide to rage into the weekend with the locals, well, then Glacier will have to wait until the next trip. And that trip carries with it no guarantees, as well.
The important part about our style of travel is that we enjoy it. There is no lingering desire to accomplish or complete because the time we travel together is already accomplishing so much.
We laugh together at the pictures capturing majestic scenery and a couple of clowns. We constantly meet people who want to spend time with us and let those friendships sprout whatever may come. And we’re so inundated with recommendations from strangers and friends that the next trip is planning itself.
I’ve tried checklist traveling — hustling to see as much as possible in as little time as possible — and what I lost in that was fun. What I gained was stress.
But as with everything, you’ve gotta try different ways to see which one suits you.
After all, isn’t traveling just another way to discover what’s important to you?
My partner and I are interested in connecting with one another and those that enter our lives, so our trip conforms to what we’re seeking out and continues to offer experience after experience.
Once I found my reason for traveling, all of the pressures of goal-oriented travel went away and I fell into my way of being a traveler. The checklists and wishlists melted into maps leading to new people. And people lead me to new places. Places where I find new people.
Ultimately, each of our paths lead to the same end.
It’s all about how you wanna get there.
I’m gonna get there slowly and laughing.
I think the name came from the layout of the hostel: there were a few shared rooms with bunk beds, some private rooms, a large kitchen and living area, bathrooms, and a lofted area that oversaw the kitchen and main living area. The lofted area definitely felt like a nest. Books and beanbags littered the floor of the nest, and there was even a window from which you could observe the city and exhale a variety of smokes.
Check it out when you’re in Budapest—
https://das-nest-budapest.inbudapesthotels.com/en/
In between is where all the good stuff is — a sort of reading between the lines but the travel version. I started looking at maps like this and have found a bounty of possibility in the face of what appears to be “driving time to get somewhere.”
For example, visiting Dinosaur National Monument seems simple enough: you get to the visitor center to collect info, hit a hike to see some rocks, and find camping. But there is endless BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land to stay on, small towns looking for an occasion to party, and people who want to share a bit of themselves with you.
My partner and I came to Dinosaur National Monument to see the canyons and fossils, but instead we fell in love with the town of Vernal, Utah.
Vernal is relatively small (compared to what we know — Denver/Nashville/Chicago) with a population of about 10,000, but hidden between the streets is a bunch of stories. We stopped at a Wal-Mart to get some supplies and found out they carry a bunch of healthier options other Wal-Marts don’t, like canned meats that are composed of meat and salt, and jam and jelly with sensible ingredient lists. But the most notable quality about the Vernal Wal-Mart is how nice and considerate EVERYONE IS, workers and customers alike. It’s as if everyone were taught to mind their manners, and they listened.
We stopped at Neighbors Thrift to donate a few things that didn’t seem necessary for our travels, found two books whilst browsing, then found out that when you donate they give you a $3 coupon for your donation, so the books were free. First time I’ve ever run into that system — take notes corporate whores Goodwill and Salvation Army. We asked the woman if there are any parks in the area to throw a frisbee around and she recommended one just up the street. As we threw the frisbee around we watched youth football practice, adult softball league, and all the other kids going crazy on the playground. There was a group of men and women practicing rugby and a drill team having a meeting of some sort. A thriving community, I think.
Then we started looking into more specific stuff and found a movie theater that has $8 tickets, many different kinds of food trucks, and endless state and national lands.
Finally, driving down the main road, Route 40, we saw a flier advertising Dino-Saur Days — a hot air balloon party that goes into the evening with live music, food trucks, and all sorts of vendors. Come on now, Vernal. The only other thing I need is a swimming hole, and we found that at Red Fleet Reservoir State Park after a beautiful hike on the Dino Trax trail (you actually get to see the fossilized dinosaur tracks in the rock).
I’d like to nominate Vernal, Utah for the Nicest Town in the Contiguous United States Award.
If you have experienced a nice and would like to nominate it for the Nicest Town in the Contiguous United States Award, please let me know, I love visiting places with less dipshits and may begin to take seriously the creation of such an award.