Our Life Together

More Road Antics (a.k.a. Part Three)

Location: Hostel in the Forest –

I’m an aspiring hippie. In fact, I thought to myself the other day that I was a “sophippie” (a sophisticated hippie — in my case, a hippie stuck in a 9-to-6er’s body).

Here’s how each part of my dichotomy breaks down:

My wanderlust has increased lately. I’m a natural loner. I eschew pretty much every form of authority. I delight in uniqueness. I love patchouli. I’m growing a beard. My hippie qualifications are endless.

However, I work on computers for a living — and that living is a standard, salaried, 40-hour work week. I drive a newer car. I live in a townhouse. I like watching HGTV. I like balancing my checkbook. Unless you knew me well, many of my outside characteristics would scream…and it hurts me to even type this…suburbanite.

So, when Kristi told me about the Hostel in the Forest (sleeping in tree-houses!) and we started planning a vacation to Georgia, I was adamant we had to stay the night. The hippie in me was elated, even if the suburbanite had forgotten the sounds of growing up in the country and grown somewhat uncomfortable with playing in the woods.

The 10-minute, snails-pace drive down one of the worst country roads I have ever encountered was almost enough to dampen my spirits. But, as soon as we finally caught sight of tree-houses (yes, literally built on trees) and the three-dome welcome/communal center, I was back to ecstatic again. It was child-like wonder mixed with trepidation (because we weren’t sure we’d even have a tree-house to stay in, despite reservations…and I wasn’t sure what kind of friendly folk the hostel workers would be).

Our very friendly hostess assured us we had a tree-house for the night (named after Elmo, and being the first tree-house built at the Hostel). The tour was interesting — our guide incredibly comfortable showing us the humanure toilets, letting us know that clothing was optional at the lake, and informing us of the specialness of three spiritual locations. It was somewhat surreal, and I spent most of the time kindly quiet.

The overnight experience was your average fare. We missed the communal meal, since we went into town to look around and made it back late. Our rest in the tree-house was normal — except for my re-adjusting to the sounds of the forest, and wondering what word was scrawled on the ceiling in glow-in-the-dark paint. We woke early to the rooster’s crow (another first experience for me) and hit the road without saying goodbye (since no one was around).

All-in-all, an enjoyable experience. I would say my only “regret” is not having more time to soak everything up. It really is a place that, I imagine, gets more special the longer you stay there. I would have loved to take one of their canoes onto the lake for a while. Or to have done more walking around the trials. Maybe even hang out at the communal meal and learn more about the hostel workers.

If we’ll ever go back, time will tell. Until then, I’ll store the Hostel in my brain along with other wonderful adventures and sport my coveted prize, a bumper sticker saying “May the Forest be with you,” on my lovely Honda.

{Still} On The Road Again (Part Two)

Location: Jekyll Island –

Her real name was Molly, but I nicknamed her Shadowfax (in honor of the valiant steed Gandalf rides in Lord of the Rings). She was to be the first horse I had ever ridden, and our delightfully eccentric guide assured me that if she could put an eight year old who had never even been on a horse on Molly, surely the beautiful beast could bear me safely.

And so our trek through the woods, and finally onto a driftwood beach at sunset, began. I was very nervous leading up to the first few steps of the horse, but with each passing moment I began to enjoy, thrill, and savor this first-time experience.

While on the beach, I closed my eyes and let Molly sway me back-and-forth with her gentle forward gait, as I listened lovingly to the softly crashing waves. I imagine that our guide gets somewhat bored treading the same path multiple times per day — but I also felt like it could be a wonderful job…riding your horse out front every night, experiencing the wonder of water and bird and crabs and sunsets over-and-over again.

As we made our way back through the woods, I was role-playing. I thought myself to be one of the Fellowship. I bid part of our team to take Frodo to Mt. Doom, to guard him and assure his passage to the place where the One Ring would be destroyed. Aragorn, Legolas, and myself would stay back, facing the nine Ringwraiths with courage and strength.

Yes, I have a healthy imagination — and my first horse ride was wonderful enough to let it fly freely.