Epilogue

As I write this, about six weeks have passed since Hunter and I completed our trip.  This time has been a whirlwind of adaptation as we try to assimilate ourselves back into our "normal" roles.  Hunter has been in school and I have been focused on creating a new business and playing "Mr. Mom".  The singular focus that occupied us on the trip ("where do we go and what do we do today") has been replaced with thoughts of tomorrow, next week, next year.

Creating closure for the trip is more difficult than any climb or hike we ever made.  The sights, sounds, smells, and other experiences encountered during our tour are etched upon us - strike that - ingrained into us.  They changed us in ways we may never fully realize.  During the trip I experienced a sense of freedom I have never known before - the freedom of living for now.  It's an incredible experience to wake up on the side of a mountain before the sunrise with your entire day a blank canvas before you.  You decide how the choices, experiences, and interaction will paint that canvas before the end of the day.  

During the trip we walked on deserts and glaciers.  We climbed on gentle hills, rocky mountains, volcanoes, buttes, and mesas.  Our highpoints included everything from "drive-ups"  to 10 mile hikes up 12,600' mountains with 75+ mph winds and blowing pumice.  We swam in lakes and rivers in the US and Canada, and walked in the cold water of two oceans.   We saw the neon night of 'Vegas contrasted with a meteor shower across the Milky Way at 6,000' on Mt. Rainier.  We drove over 15,000 miles and crossed the country top to bottom and side to side.  And we met people.  People that were happy, unhappy, or desensitized to the point of not being sure.  

Most of all, Hunter and I found what is really important.  After spending all day climbing up a mountain, you finally get back to the tent and you're too tired to cook anything so you just eat a can of cold beans and go to sleep.   As you drift off, you realize there are very few possessions you need in life.  More importantly, you reflect on the beauty of the day's "canvas", and you realize how special the experience was.  I still find myself grasping to remember every subtle nuance, every sound or sight in an attempt to "be there" just for a moment once again.  

Hunter grew on the trip - physically, emotionally, and mentally.  He put on 13 pounds, and pushed his limits farther than he ever though he could.  On every major climb, he reached a point of "I can't".  In every case I convinced him to just push it to the next rock, the next tree, the next ridge. Once there, we established a new point of reference to reach.  Slowly but surely he learned to push himself, and that any major effort is 10% physical and 90% mental.  This is something I could tell him for years, but he had to experience to fully understand.  Hunter and I grew close in a way that we never could staying at home.  I was dependant on Hunter for much of the work on the road.  Since we got back, Hunter has been doing yard work, cleaning, cooking, and generally helping out much more around the house.  His grades have improved and he seems happier.  I think the trip made him feel more vested in his own life.

We have been to 28 of the 50 state highpoints, and we are planning 5 more for this year and several for next summer.  The journey is far from over, and we will have new adventures and experiences.  Along with all of the rocks and dirt we brought back with us, I think most importantly we re-discovered how to plan for tomorrow and live for today.

We all have a blank canvas.