A backward Glance

Now that I am home after my first foray into long term travel, I have found it interesting to look back over those four months. I enjoyed the experience on a lot of different levels and for different reasons.

I have called myself a Gypsy as I loved the romantic connotations of the gypsy life which I used to read about as a child. In many of my childhood books the gypsies used to arrive in town, park in the common and add an element of excitement, even danger, for the local residents. Sometimes they set up stalls with exotic items to sell or they told fortunes for some lucky kids or even (Shock! Horror! Shiver!) put a curse on the neighbourhood bully. The gypsies changed the atmosphere of a town while they were there. Their painted caravans and perhaps-stolen horses added an extra frisson of anticipation.

I was obviously destined to be a low-key gypsy. I don’t know whether I ever made any impact on a town or whether those who lived there cared much whether I was there or not. What I do hope is that I inspired even two or three people to expand their horizons and begin to dream a little. I found that women were more likely to ask about my journeys and that single women in particular began to talk about  stepping out of their comfort zones and taking more risks in their lives.  I couldn’t even call myself an up-market gypsy as my Toyota Lucida is only a very small step up from a painted caravan drawn by horses. When I get to the luxury motorhome style of travel, I’ll consider myself upgraded.

But the Silver part of Silver Gypsy is a term I have earned over my lifetime. I started life as a flaming redhead, mellowed to a deep auburn and, during the past ten years have gradually expanded my silver streak. I have become more conscious of this since one of my nieces (thank you Kate!) told me that my hair was all silver and gold – at a time when I was sure it was gold and silver. I thought that a few months and a number of missed hair-dresser sessions would change all the gold to silver. It hasn’t quite happened but I think I can legitimately claim the Silver part of my title.

During my trip, I often felt as though I was going backwards and forwards through time. While my hair was rapidly becoming silver and I was ignoring calls from my hair stylist, I was also neglecting to wear make-up. It was a hard decision to make, as I generally put on a face first thing in the morning. I have done this most of my adult life. The result, though, was the return of freckles! I haven’t had freckles on my face since I was in my teens, though I can’t say the same about my sun-scarred arms and legs. So here I am, ageing in the hair, moving rapidly backwards in my skin.

In terms of the family, I feel the same contradictions.  I left as the eldest daughter and eldest sister and have now found myself the matriarch of the family. As long as my mother was alive, no matter how low her physical and mental condition, there was always that generation older than me. I imagine Denis experienced the same feelings when Dad died. Yet, we were expecting both deaths and in many ways had already taken on a lot of the family responsibilities. It still comes as a shock. At the same time, my own children and grandchildren have been building their lives, moving forward in their careers and watching their kids grow and develop. Life goes on and I suppose it is the passing of a generation that really drives this home.

It is always interesting when you are travelling to find how different the pace of life is. Without clocks and calendars dictating activities, the pattern of living is far more relaxed. I loved the opportunity to come and go as I pleased, to move on if I was ready to move and to batten down if I wished. When I came home, although I quickly got back into the swing of things, for a while I did things consciously rather than with the unconscious ease of routine. I had to fit in with the timetables of the family. For them, this was just a continuation of life; for me it required adjustment.

Cory December 2011

Hudson June 2012

When I arrived home, Hudson was quick to tell me that he was four now and old enough to go camping. Cory had had two nights at Beachmere with me before I went away. For Hudson, the next step was for him to camp which we will do this week, all the way over at Scarborough. For the kids, even though they missed me, it was as if my life hadn’t continued while I was away. Perhaps that is the ego-centricity of young children, that others only exist in relation to them. Whatever the reason, I have to adjust to them, not the other way around. 

So far I haven’t got involved in my usual social activities. It seems to be more difficult to wind myself up again than I had expected. Generally my weeks would be full, two or three mornings occupied with classes and most evenings filled with club meetings. I have certainly realised that nobody is indispensable as all my clubs and groups have continued to operate and grow without me. I will try to develop the same philosophy to my activities as to my journey – I don’t have to change the world (or my little part of it). I can accept it, as I accepted the weather and whoever parked alongside me, or I can pack away my goods and move on. There are not many things in my social life which should be stressful. If they are, I can change my attitude or change my location. Simple, in theory!

Being accepted by a group has been important to me. As a child, and well into adult life, I was excruciatingly shy and never felt that I was welcome in a group. Looking back, I realise that this was just my perception because I was so sensitive and self-conscious. Fortunately most of that insecurity has passed and I am able to accept others for who they are and expect them to do the same for me. I have had this brought home to me clearly in the last few weeks.  Since Mum’s death and in the weeks leading up to it, I have been overwhelmed by the support offered by  family and friends, including representatives of most of the activities I am involved in, Toastmasters, my tap dance group and Red Hat friends and other social groups.  What really touched me was the support of fellow travellers, those I met on the road and others who have only met me through my blog or travel forums. It reinforced the feeling of community that develops among people with shared interests. Friendship and camaraderie don’t have to be of long standing to be sincere and genuine.

I have learnt other lessons while I have been away.  Spending four months in a car designed for town driving with few adaptations has told me that yes, size does matter. For a few months, this was quite comfortable and generally all I needed. Now that I have the taste for travel again, I know that next time I will be away for a much longer time and I’d like to take some of the comforts of home with me. That will mean slightly larger transport, a better bed and a bit of room to move around.

I have decided that dirt roads and detours are part of the fun of travel and that a white line is not a necessity. Some sites that are stumbled on by accident are among the best around. In fact, although other nomads are quick to share their experiences, I do wonder if they sometimes keep their favourite places secret – like fishermen who are very vague about where they got a good haul.  I found also that fellowship is always on offer whether you stay at a caravan park, in a reserve or national park, or just on the side of the highway. Anyone who feels alone on the road must have made the decision to be alone.

Here in Australia we have the contrasts of the seasons, of scenery and society and we become more conscious of it when we have chosen to get out of our house-bound routines.  We can choose to travel by the sea or in the outback, to be with others or alone, to move slowly or swiftly.  But, whether we are in a basic van or a luxury rig, in a car or on a bike, there is the same starry, open sky above and the same earth beneath our wheels. We are wanderers in a wide and wonderful world.

My daughter has threatened to put my OMG photo on my coffin if I don't use at least one respectable photo of myself on this blog. When I have done that, I will consider my blog complete. Thank you for accompanying me on this journey.