Every night I fall asleep to the sound of crickets whistling in the distance. As long as the temperature doesn't reach above 80 degrees, I sleep like a bear, undisturbed by my surroundings, no matter where I am camped. It has been three weeks of travel and 1700 miles of ground. We have visited countless towns, eaten at numerous fast food places, and found refuge at a variety of (oftentimes unexpected) locations. But regardless of where we end up for the night, may it be the mountain ranges of Virginia, some remote neighborhood in eastern Kentucky or a river bank out in Missouri, as soon as I zip up my tent for the night, I am in my bubble of comfort. I am "home" and ready to rest.
In the predawn hours of the morning, I wake up to the rustling of zippers and tents close by. It's around 6 am and time to get up and start another day. What awaits in the hours ahead is always a mystery, an unknown surprise, and a daily inspiration.
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