Must Love Couples

Three weeks of WWOOFing in Hoopa, California, and we are almost done with our first work exchange. We have planted cover crops, pulled out countless tomato plants, fixed irrigation lines, chopped heaps of firewood (Good work, Phil!), shelled beans, taken care of horses, operated tillers and weed-whackers, shoveled manure, picked an assortment of fruit, been introduced to freshly hatched baby turkeys, and truly investigated the meaning of subsistence farming on the ground level. After having the opportunity to live out here, working five hours a day, five days a week, we feel ready to take our new farming knowledge with us as we head out into the world once more - a world with work available and homes a plenty! The problem is that while the farmer loved that we were a couple, because we were a team he could assign to any project on the farm, in the house hunting world, people don't necessarily love couples.  

Searching through pages of Craigslist posts, I've read ad after ad outlining a wonderful living arrangement, only to discover at the bottom of the post the most deflating words: No Couples. Due to this barrier in house hunting success, I have been including a disclaimer in my e-mail replies: I know we are a couple and that makes people wary, but we have lived at 2 previous residences together and in a tent for the last few months, which, I think, truly demonstrates our harmony!

Have we found people out there who can think about couples without cringing? Yes, but it has been a challenge. It feels like we are lumped into the same category as cats and dogs. No cats, dogs, or couples - bah! So, I keep trolling Craigslist, while cursing 18 year olds and romantic comedies for plaguing society with relationship drama, bickering, baby talk, awkward PDA, breathy whispering, antisocial nights in, and just overall "couple behavior" that sabotages a living situation, leaving it dysfunctional and anti-fun.   

Phil and I are excited to be moving into Arcata, but we leave the farm at the end of the week, so we don't have a lot of time to find our next home. We do have friends to fall back on, but after a month with our teepee and a sense of stability, packing up and hitting that uncertain road again, without everything lined up, still feels a little unsettling. The way I see it though, is we have new skills, contacts, and references from our time farming and that already puts us in a better situation than we were in a month ago. We might not know where we are going, but we are creating new possibilities with every step. Perhaps in the house hunting world, people don't necessarily love couples, but maybe they will love us when they meet us. I return to Craigslist, feeling a little more hopeful that they will. 

Lessons in Creativity

Striking out with a modest amount of money, a combination of savings, our garage sale cash, and family contributions, this trip was destined to be interesting. We honestly had no idea what we were looking for when we left Santa Fe, but we hoped for free camping, awesome climbing, and jobs to spring out of the ground at the point when we ran out of money. This was an interesting plan. We quickly learned that free camping in California is hella* difficult to come by; climbing locations aren't always close to civilization, internet, or these elusive jobs, but that actually, we aren't interested in having traditional jobs anyway. 

Breaking down in Ojai changed that. Breaking down in Arcata solidified it. Traditional jobs or not, we were going to have to find some form of income, or we were going to have to begin parting with belongings. Still not wanting jobs and really not being in a position to get a job (stable place to stay), we changed our outlook and enthusiastically began exploring our other options. We met people. We asked for and accepted help. We stayed with complete strangers. We made friends. We responded to an interesting Craigslist post, which resulted in us climbing a 100 foot tree to fix a solar panel, and we got paid for it. We took invitations seriously and ended up at rocking parties. We painted buildings, fixed roofs, and kept our fingers crossed...a lot. We found ways to keep going and all it took was a little creativity.

At our first couch surfing spot, our outgoing and opinionated host continuously questioned our inspiration. How could we just sell everything and go, just like that? How could we leave without heaps of savings or a set direction? How could anyone walk away from a stable job with benefits? The truth is, it is never about "how". Anyone who has ever asked us how we could be doing what we are doing always answers this themselves somewhere in the following conversation. They start recounting stories of their own adventures or the interesting people they have met who were doing something like us. They have an idea about what you have to do logistically: you just go. Instead, the question is really about "why" and those reasons also seem to reveal themselves once we begin discussing ancient temples, beautiful beaches, staggering mountain ranges, delicious food made of exotic spices, and a sense of lawlessness and possibility only felt out on the road. Anyone who has traveled knows the feeling and I believe you can find it here in America with our prolific rock formations, desert sunsets, glaciers streams, old growth forests, riotous music festivals, San Francisco bread bowls, and New Mexican green chile. (I'm biased about the chile.) Phil and I did do the traditional job route and we worked really hard for the time we were in Santa Fe. Much of that time Phil was working two jobs and he was a zombie. We didn't have weekends off or if we did, we didn't have weekends off together. Actually, either of us having two days off in a row was a luxury. We lived in a beautiful place, but we felt stuck in the grind, and we had ideas of something else. So, we left. We sold everything, we gave away more, and we packed up what was essential into a backpack each. The rest of the car we filled with camping and climbing stuff, and we took off. 

We've had talks with people who think we are nuts, who swear by savings, and who know that one day they will be happy that they were rational and stuck to a track with a 401k. I don't doubt that they will be happy and I don't criticize that course, but it isn't what we want. As we come to the end of our time on the farm, we are still waiting for these jobs to reveal themselves or push through the earth with the winter vegetables, but perhaps we would hoe them out of the ground if we saw them. We left everything in Santa Fe for a reason and it wasn't to find a new place to get a job; it wasn't even for a two day weekend. We left in search of possibility and it has been a challenge, free camping aside. Yet, our enthusiastic pursuit of different options prevails. Fingers crossed, we will find ways to keep going - all it takes is a little creativity. 

*hella: A "multi-purpose word"invented in northernCalifornia. (Urban Dictionary) Scholars maintain that the translation was lost hundreds of years ago. 

WWOOFing, Writing, and Water Currents

Preparing myself to write, I throw a split piece of fir on the fire, and sit close to the wood burning stove that heats my current accommodation. I chose the word "accommodation", because where I'm living isn't a room or a traditional house, but a teepee, constructed of canvas and wood, and sitting amongst the trees on a subsistence farm in Humboldt County, California. With an extension chord running from the main house to our humble abode, I sit down with my lap top, looking around at what I consider my most permanent residence since leaving Santa Fe, two and half months ago.

My writing this year has been sporadic. I blame the inconsistent internet access; I blame being in the middle of nowhere and camping. No, I realize I am truly culpable. I was unmotivated and I did wonder for a moment if the blog belonged to Thailand, if it was the end of that chapter when I left. And, it did, in a way. It was the end of a chapter, but in many ways it was just the beginning. It wasn't as though I didn't have anything to write about in Santa Fe, but I didn't see the experiences I was having in the same light that I saw those from Thailand. Thailand was like an incubator. It was a nurturing time of self discovery and, undoubtedly a mind expanding exercise, exposing me to alternative ways of thinking and living. However, leaving everything in Santa Fe, NM, driving a grand total of 6,000 miles with my boyfriend, Phil, and finding myself an hour outside of Arcata, CA, I'm realizing that, while much has changed, I am still building on the lessons I started in Asia. I am on the same path. It's as though a current runs through my life and while sometimes I am unsure of the direction I am heading, I know a river is never lost and I continue to find my way. So, I return to the blog, with plans of consistency in writing and beginning with WWOOFing in Hoopa, California.

It was after three visits to the mechanic between L.A. and Humboldt County, that any more extensive road tripping finally became out of the question. Fortunately, this whole area seems to be a place where we can see ourselves spending a lot of time. We began to explore the opportunities in and around Arcata and we ended up in the mountain community of Hoopa. The Hoopa are a Native American tribe in northern California, situated on the Trinity River, and about fifty miles inland from the Pacific. It was here that Phil and I found ourselves amongst voluptuous hillsides, watching the low hanging fog roll up from the coast to be later punctured by afternoon sunshine. We came to this beautiful location after getting involved with Worldwide Opportunities for Organic Farmers (WWOOF), an organization that helps to facilitate work exchanges between organic farms and volunteers by allowing volunteers to make profiles, search for prospective farms, and then connect with the farmers to coordinate exchanging room and board for work on the farm. We were running out of money, after being on the road for two months, but we also had wanted to take advantage of an opportunity to more seriously discover the meaning of organic farming, so we signed up. Now officially "WWOOFers", we are volunteering five hours a day, five days a week in exchange for the lovely teepee space and a stocked kitchen. The owner of the farm splits his time between working on the farm and a job in Arcata, where he claims to be a "fish doctor". Though he says this smiling, with a doctorate in ecology and an uphill battle in protecting salmon ecosystems in Hoopa, he really is. On top of his commitment to fish doctoring, he is working with a friend to cultivate an acre of land where they can provide organic food for the community and educate the people about agriculture as a way to change the health and wealth of the tribe. They see the future of the valley resting on the benefits of subsistence farming, a lifestyle and process that inspires Phil and I, so it seems to be a good match.

I was never running tillers and seeders in Thailand, or Santa Fe for that matter, but tromping around in work boots, hands deep in soil, and looking out over blackberry bushes to the Trinity River seems to fit. This is our introduction to farming in Humboldt County and we are harvesting tomatoes, beans, and squash instead of ganja. Who would have imagined? When it comes to what's next, we have started to consider a permanent residence in the town of Arcata, as four walls and a roof might be nice after three months of alternative living and sleeping choices. However, we ultimately haven't a clue what shape that will take. And, it's okay. Despite the lack of regular internet, nights spent in the car, and the overall uncertainty of our course, we have been finding peace in our process. Though sometimes appearing disjointed and unclear, I am starting to see the continuities between past experiences and my journey, finding beauty in not knowing. So, I tend to the fire, turn my ear to the sounds of the night, and submit to the flow of the current to show me the way.