I'm back in the states now. I didn't say anything about it here because I was surprising a couple people, and they read my journal sometimes so I didn't want to spoil it. Here's the story:
Over the past two months, I'd been feeling a greater sense of what I at first called homesickness. I was yearning to get back to Ft Dirtbag, to my desert. The sensation grew in intensity slowly.
My plan, since shortly after breaking up with my GF in Portugal in March, had been to sail back across the Atlantic when I was done traveling.
You can't just sail any old time you like from any old place. To cross the Atlantic westwards, typically people make their way to the Canary Islands in the Fall and then make the crossing to the Caribbean as early as November but more typically in December or January. This is to take advantage of the winds, and to avoid the worst of the storms.
So, in August, I was looking at being at least four months from making it to the Caribbean, and then of course having to find passage to one of the mainlands (N or S America) and then overlanding from there home. A likely arrival back home was February ish.
I realized I wasn't actually looking forward to this. I realized that while I liked the idea of sailing back home, I'm not so sure I was actually into the idea of, y'know, sailing. And it wasn't as simple as just hopping on a boat: I had to travel from Scotland all the way back down to Portugal or Spain, I had to find a boat that didn't suck (and competition for crew positions is stiff) to get me to the Canarys and then across, and then to the mainland, I had to find accommodations in Portugal, the Canarys, the Caribbean, and wherever else, I maybe had to gear up for the passage... there was a lot of logistics involved that I was just not looking forward to. And I really just wanted to get back home and begin work on my own projects.
But I had committed to sailing, primarily because of the carbon footprint of flying, which was massively higher than sailing... right?
So I did a calc. I found a flight from London to Montreal to SFO for about 550 kgco2e.
Then I began assembling the footprint of four months (to be conservative) of what it'd take to get me home sailing.
*I had to travel over 3,000 miles to Portugal or Spain to get connected to a boat (most boats had already gone South from the UK or Northern Europe, to get south of the Bay of Biscay before it got hairy). I used 0.035kgco2e/km for that distance, as well as the distance to overland from the US East Coast to West Coast.
*I had to eat food for four months. I used 1kgco2e/1,000kcals, which is the footprint for a vegan diet. It's likely I'd just eat whatever kind of food the skipper wanted, but again, I was trying to be conservative and not overtip the scales of the calc. I realized that I had a bias, and I wanted this number to be high.
*Obviously when you're sailing under canvas, you aren't burning any fuel. But sometimes the wind dies, and it's the skipper's call to sit and wait or to motor through. I assumed some amount of motoring, based on an average fuel consumption I gleaned from reading cruiser forums. Diesel emits about 10kgco2e/gallon.
I added all the numbers up and I got a grand total of.... about 550kgco2e. It was a wash between flying back and sailing back.
[Of course, my calc involves a lot of assumptions and pure judgement calls about what to include and not include, what numbers to use, etc. There's nothing precise about it, and the person doing the calc (me) carries certain known and unknown biases about what he wants the answer to be, and while he made certain calls in an attempt to balance the impact of these biases, it's impossible for me to say how accurate the number actually is. The point is that I did as good a faith attempt at a calc as I could, and it was in the same ballpark as the footprint for flying. Another point here is that if I were truly dedicated, I could reduce the numbers by hitching transport instead of taking buses and trains, and I could dumpster my food. That's true. But I'm not at that level, honestly, it's not part of my wog, and I didn't possess the stoke to get there in a short amount of time.]
The interesting thing is that as soon as I saw that the footprint for the two options was at least in the same neighborhood and not 10x different like I thought, I got washed in a sense of relief. Oh thank Christ! I don't have to spend the next six months snarling my way back home! I can just get on with my life!
I had that emotional response, and the part of me that observes myself went oh... well that's interesting. I'd been operating under the assumption that I wanted to sail because of the adventure, and the ethics of it, and everthing else. Turns out, I wanted to want to sail... but there's a whole long list of other stuff I want to do more. Spending six months of my time dedicated to spending what would be only something like 5 weeks actually under sail to get home is not a good trade for my intrinsic desires. I wanted to be home, in the desert, building weird stuff and trying to track coyotes or whatever.
I basically just felt done. I had a really good experience at Rubha Phoil in Scotland, and I wanted to take that experience with me directly home and begin applying what I'd learned there. I was worried that six months of stressful travel that I actually wasn't that into would be too great of a dissonance with my time on Rubha Phoil, I'd lose the thread of it.
The thing that clinched it for me was hearing that my parents were having a gathering for Labor Day. My brother and his husband were going to be there and some other family as well, and I thought about
this post from waitbutwhy, how there were not that many more gatherings like that I'd have the opportunity to spend with my parents. And especially to know that I was missing it because I was forcing myself to stick to a plan just because I'd Made a Plan, even though I didn't really want to do it and there was no strong ethical case for it anymore... well, to hell with purity.
So, I caught a flight home from London to SFO, hitched a ride with my brothers, and surprised the hell out of my folks. I got out at the gate and let my brothers drive up (the driveway is a quarter mile long. No, it's not like a richie rich estate, it's just a big chunk of desert and the house is behind a hill on the far side from the highway). I snuck through the desert and then knocked on the front door. That far out in the desert, it's not a door that receives very many unanticipated knocks. My dad answered and saw me standing there, having no clue that I'd be home anytime before January. It was awesome.
I'm probably done with traveling overseas. I'm really glad I went, there's no part of my travels that I regret... and I think I'm done with it, probably forever. Being a world traveler is just not that important to me. I liked the way I did it - I learned a lot workawaying at different places, I met a ton of different kinds of people... and I don't want to do it again.
Partly because I just feel done - I learned what I wanted to learn, I explored that path, I won't wonder what it's like anymore because I did it - and partly because you give up a lot of day to day agency to live that way. You cook with what ingredients someone else decided to get, you work on projects someone else decided would be good for you to work on, you live with people someone else decided would be good to let join the group, you sleep in a place someone else decided was fit for a person to sleep in... it's fine for a time, but going along with other people's flow gets old.
If I ever did get the bug to travel again, I think the only way I'd want to do it is some form of self-powered adventure travel. e.g. ride a bicycle from here to Patagonia, or row across the Atlantic. I could see crewhitching as well, but only if that's the point of the trip, e.g. to crewhitch down the Pacific coast and then overland back up, or circumnavigate, or etc. My issue with this trip was that sailing home was merely instrumental, it was a hacked on solution, not an intrinsic part of what I was doing.
For now, the only kind of travel that I'm stoked on is local to the Western US. To walk or bikepack up to Bishop to climb for the fall season, or to hitch to Yosemite, or maybe even to do the PCT, that sort of thing. Otherwise, I'm fully stoked to be home and to cease the wanderings that I've been on since arguably 2016, and establish my home base here on this land, and start to spin up my Project. More on that later.