The core of discovery

Sometime soon,  a six-year-old boy named Henry and his dad will head west on the Oregon Trail--and I'll be their guide.

Well, sort of. As writer B.J. Hollars began preparing for this journey, he found a copy of my Oregon Trail book. As he writes on his work-in-progress website for Go West Young Man:

When selecting our guide, Henry and I go with what seems simple and practical.  Something that steers me clear of coordinates and paces and other pitfalls that might mean a world of trouble for a navigationally-challenged person such as myself.  Upon cracking wide Julie Fanselow’s Traveling the Oregon Trail, I know I’ve found my guide. 
Originally published in 1992, Julie’s account offers more than distances to destinations.  Interspersed throughout its more informational pages are glimpses of memoir, flashes of personal experience that bring her journey to life.  In its opening pages, I come across Julie’s most memorable moment on the Oregon Trail, which just so happens to have involved her six-year-old daughter.

B.J. reached out to me for a phone call about my experiences traveling on the trail, first on my own in the early 1990s and later that decade with my young daughter as I updated the book. I love B.J.'s recounting of our talk, which you can read here. Here's my favorite part:

As our conversation winds down, I relay to Julie the question Henry most wanted me to ask.
“How do you not get bit by a rattlesnake?”
She laughs.
“The key is seeing and hearing and being aware of your surroundings,” she says, explaining that this means keeping my attention on the moment rather than peering zombie-eyed at my phone or listening to the music in my ear buds.    
This seems like sound advice.
But there’s another key she tells me: we can’t let ourselves be afraid.
“Going out and seeing the world is the absolute most fun thing you can do,” she says.

Indeed. If I've learned anything in my life beyond the wonder of loving and being loved, it's this: Travel is by far the best way to spend your time and money, and it's both more possible and more important now than ever before.

It's possible because even if you're living with limited means, you can fly to another continent and back for a few hundred bucks; sleep in hostels or Airbnbs (with the occasional splurge on a modest hotel); and eat like the locals do, with farmers market food and trips to the grocery store. Or you can pack up the car like Henry and his dad will--or hop on a bus or train--and make memories with people you love.

It's important because we live at a time when people starting a trip hear "safe travels" more often than "bon voyage!" Simply put, travel trumps fear. It gets us out of our comfort zones and into places where we can witness our common humanity.  I could write for days about this, but I'll let Rick tell you more. Travel is at the core of discovery: of yourself and of our amazing world.

In another chapter of his pre-trip writings,  B.J. writes about playing the classic Oregon Trail computer game with Henry. Among the game's lessons: When shooting buffalo, "never kill more than you can carry." I don't have a gun when I travel (or anytime else, for that matter), so my trip motto is always "Never pack more than you can carry." That's another post. I'll write it soon.

Meanwhile, I'd like to bid Henry and his dad glad tidings for a memorable, meaningful journey--and leave you, dear reader, with my wish that you, too, will take a trip somewhere soon, even if you've just returned from one. Because going out and seeing the world is the absolute most fun thing you can do.

P.S. Traveling the Oregon Trail went out of print a few years ago, but there are still plenty of used paperback copies floating around--or you can buy the e-book version and I'll get a small royalty.  Either way, happy trails!