The Bumpy Road to Adventure

  If you are seeking adventure, your life of convenience may become a curse and work against you.  At least if you are the typical American who has enjoyed a lifetime in the hammock of easy-come affluence, comfort and space.  Indoor plumbing is an essential component of life in the Western world, even though it's only about 100 years old here.  A hot shower every day is still unheard of in much of the rest of the world.  If you want to pursue adventure, this convenient lifestyle is a major obstacle.
  Kaye and I have traversed a convoluted maze in our journey out of the commonplace.  We reached retirement age still owing a considerable mortgage.  It wasn't that we didn't have a plan, it's that our plan failed.  Taking an early retirement from school teaching after 27 years, I started a log home construction business with a mobile crew that traveled all over lower Michigan to build new log homes, a specialized service that filled a narrow niche in the industry.  It was a genius plan that lasted eight years.  The only problem was that the production costs were high and the profit margin was small or non-existent on some projects.  It was a lot of fun, but left us with virtually the same amount of debt we started with.  Then Michigan's housing market collapsed and so did my business.
  We had a great piece of property and tried every which way to make it pay for itself.  We grew Christmas trees and sold thousands of them over two decades but found that the income wouldn't offset the expenses, since the money all came in during a two-week period in December but the costs accumulated year round.
  The large house we had built on a 32-acre estate had been ideal for raising our family and a raft of foster kids and foreign exchange students, but eventually the kids had left for college and distant jobs, and now the two of us were rambling around in a big house on a big property with a big heating bill and a big mortgage.  And lots of mowing.  Acres and acres of mowing.
  The place lent itself to retreats as it had two logs cabins and wild woods and meadows. We hosted church youth groups and conducted paintball games drawing scores of young adventurers.  Still the buildings were empty most of the time and costing us more money than they could possibly bring in.
  We decided to sell.  But the housing market was still pulverized and wouldn't be improving any time soon.  Potential buyers came but couldn't borrow the money needed to purchase.  We tried to divide the property to make it more affordable, but the township denied the split.

We just moved from our 10-room house to a one-room cabin.

  Finally, after 40 years in the big house, we reluctantly agreed to move out and bring in renters.  Risky for sure.  And we put a renter in one of the log cabins.  Then we moved into the other log cabin- a dry cabin (no plumbing), putting most of our furniture in storage, and using the travel trailer for water and hot showers.  And we are hitting the road next week with the trailer, finally enjoying some of the freedom we have been looking for all this time.  The forever camping life is upon us.  Illusive adventure has arrived.
  But I started out saying convenience is a curse if one wants to seek adventure.  Here's what we have discovered to be hindrances to getting free:

•   Smelling nice.  If we didn't all have to smell nice, we wouldn't need to use as much precious water.  This includes showers, laundry, clean dishes, and of course, flushing the toilet.  Do you have any idea how often Americans flush the toilet every day?  Keep track sometime and you'll be amazed.  When you are staying in an RV where the sewage goes into a holding tank that has to be emptied somewhere, this is no small consideration.  Every flush has a trade-off, and it's a stinky one.
•   Memories and other stuff.  Downsizing is nigh unto impossible when every little keepsake takes up space.  Not just the old photographs, but what about the china cabinet that's been in the family for generations?  It's hard to view it as junk and sell it in a yard sale.  Is it worth renting space to keep it?  This decision has to be made for a thousand items.  Thank God for the thrift store.  But Americans feel entitled to their stuff whether it's memorabilia, hobbies, collections or whatever.
•   Excessive space.  Now that I live in a small cabin and tiny RV, I feel like I occupied more than my share of space before.  Americans consume more of the earth's resources than our global neighbors and feel we are entitled to it; it's the American way.  We'll even go to war to keep oil prices within reason so our tradition is not compromised in any way.  Now I feel uncomfortable taking up more space than one person deserves, American or not.  A 10-room house for two of us?  I don't think so. But this was a tough one for us, because we were accustomed to entertaining all the kids and grandkids at Christmas time- we had plenty of room for it, and we had to relinquish this tradition.  This expensive tradition.  Tough.
•   Lawns and all kinds of property maintenance.  What is this fetish that Americans have with their lawns?  Weed it and feed it so it will grow faster so you'll have to mow it more often.  Huh?  I think it's mostly about competition.  Having the nicest lawn on the block.  Fortunately, our new renters have a couple of large mowers and are responsible for the greater share of the lawn mowing- it's part of the rental contract.  I'm a genius.  I consider lawn mowing as part of the curse; Adam sinned and was banished from the garden where nature took care of everything, and he's been mowing ever since.  I'm kidding; really green lawns are an American thing.  If you travel much you will notice the absence of lawns in much of the world.
•   Debt.  It's a monkey on your back.  And it's hard to cavort with a monkey on your back.

    So it is that our property, which served us so efficiently for so many years (and we served it too) became a ball-and-chain for us later in life.  We had so much space that we thoughtlessly brought stuff into the house and onto the premises for 40 years only to have it bite us in the butt at the end.  So. Much. Stuff.  Downsizing means you have to deal with all of that stuff.
  Ultimately, you're not going to take it with you.  You can't.  Not in a 24-foot travel trailer, not in a 6-foot coffin.
  So deal with it.  Now.  Or it will keep you rooted and prevent you from realizing the adventure you may someday seek.  This thought has been my motivator lately.

Our cozy little cabin interior.

  Disclaimer:  Not everybody seeks adventure.  In fact, Americans are programmed to pursue security and comfort from the time they are young and are taught to do well in school so they can go to the right college so they can have the right job with the right income so they can be secure and raise their families to do the same, hopefully in the same hometown.  Adventure is not thought of as a  lifestyle but a weekend pursuit with a boat or a four-wheeler (which has to be paid for by working overtime).
  On the other hand, life comes in stages, and during the family years when the kids are at home, a sense of security or roots can be important- and it is not impossible to weave a sense of adventure into the fabric of those years as well.  It's an adventure to bring foster kids into your home and to own a paintball field and a ropes course.  But for us, later on those elements became maintenance and monetary burdens.


  What stage of life are you in now?  Do you need security or adventure?  Or both?