Rooted Again

Originally posted in the Sept/Oct 2022 edition of Rootless Living Magazine

I’ve never been one to stay still. I was born a nomad, and I still am a nomad and always will be.”
–Waris Dirie

REGARDLESS OF THE context, the spirit of this quote runs deep for us. After several years of travel that took us from Key West, Florida, to Fairbanks, Alaska, and from the Cliffs of Moher to the jungles of Costa Rica, we decided to plant roots again. My wife, Reim, and I have struggled with this decision since the day we parked our rolling house in the driveway of our new homestead in Alaska.

When we sold our house and many of our possessions in 2017 to set out on our epic adventure, we thought we would travel for a year, then settle down in the mountains, already a far cry from the concrete jungle of Houston. But a year came and went, and we decided to keep going. I was able to sustain my consulting business and there was still so much to experience. The same thing happened after two years, and again after three years. We visited 49 states, plus parts of Canada, England, Scotland, Ireland, France, and Costa Rica.

In the beginning, our kids were in awe of everything. As they got older, I would point out things I thought were awesome, like a cool mountain, and they would respond, “Yeah dad … it’s another mountain.” While they still appreciated what they were experiencing, we could see a significant change happening. Especially as they moved deeper into the Dark Ages, also known as the dreaded teenage years. They wanted a more traditional teenage experience: proms, basketball games, dating, and hanging out with the same group of friends. Our abnormal life seemed to have run its course, at least for the kids.

It was different for Reim and me. We still enjoyed the excitement of wandering, experiencing new places, and the unknown each day seemed to bring. The routine of a stationary life didn’t appeal to us, but we had agreed from the beginning that we would stop traveling full time if we got to the point where the kids had enough. While they certainly don’t rule the roost, this lifestyle only works if we’re all on board. We needed to plant roots again.

We chose to settle in the idyllic little town of Talkeetna, Alaska. As the inspiration for the town featured in the TV series “Northern Exposure,” and with its postcard-worthy downtown, we were excited about this next chapter. We love the beauty of Alaska and the infinite opportunities to satisfy our thirst for adventure, so we thought being here was a workable compromise. There would be hiking, biking, backpacking, and fishing, all in arguably the most beautiful place in the world. The summer was fun. We integrated into the local community and worked on projects on our property. We were entering a dangerous place for Reim and me—settling into a routine.

When we told people we were moving to Alaska and would be staying here during the winter, almost everyone thought we had lost our minds. But it was all part of the plan. My wife and I expected the winter to take its toll on our kids, and then we would hit them with a grand adventure to somewhere tropical. We would be wandering again, returning to Alaska during the summers where we could play in the midnight sun. I mean, no one in their right mind would want to spend more than one winter in Alaska, right?

Then disaster struck. Our daughter, who initially resisted the move, pledged her unwavering love for her new home state. “I love it here, and I never want to leave,” she said. Our son followed with his own sucker punch. “I want to take some classes at the high school,” he said. He’s in 11th grade, and we knew if he liked the classes and wanted to continue through graduation, that would mean we’re grounded for at least two years.

For Reim and me, the pull to be back on the road became stronger by the day. By the time tourist season was over in early fall and Talkeetna was settling in for what was to be a brutal winter, we were having daily discussions about how we could get back on the road, at least part time. I spent time surfing sites for long-term rentals in Costa Rica, looking for house-sitting gigs in Europe, and planning another epic RV trip that would last several years.

Are Reim and I being selfish? Absolutely. We’ve earned that right. While our kids and their happiness are our main priority, Reim and I have a front-row seat on the mortality train, and it isn’t slowing down.

Maybe I’m being melodramatic. A bluebird day and a view of the Alaska Range is good to combat the doldrums of a stationary life, and summer is right around the corner. We love being Alaskans. We just love being nomads more.

For anyone who’s been to Alaska, you know the effect it has on you. There really is no other place like it. So, if we can’t be content being stationary here, it’s obvious to us we won’t be content being stationary anywhere. We are nomads now and forever. We know our rootless ways are far from over, but for now, we’ll enjoy watching our kids thrive, and we’ll embrace all that The Last Frontier has to offer.