A fairly hard reality of the adventure life is that roaming around the world, consuming gas, food, and coffee requires a certain, non-zero amount of funds. One of the things I've learned along the way is how adjustable that amount can be: living in a Manhattan apartment and dispersed camping on National Forest land occupy opposite ends of the financial spectrum, with other variables added to the equation such as restaurant eating vs. cooking for myself, sampling local coffee shops vs. brewing my own, and how far and frequently I'm traveling. Inescapable, however, is that without an ongoing source of revenue (I'm still working on that front), an adventure can continue only so long as is supported by the available funds and the rate of outflow of said funds. Unfortunately, this adventure's end is steadily approaching.
For the next six weeks [of which one has already elapsed by the time of this posting], I'll be trading my woods office for one more traditionally enclosed by walls and windows. The capable baristas of Manhattan and Brooklyn will be handling my coffee needs, and my Aeropress will get a bit of a break. I'll have a bit less time in the elements and more time in pizza shops and cocktail bars. My travel will be more focused on the tunnel between Brooklyn and Manhattan and the Northeast Corridor to Boston than on the mountains, canyons, forests, and deserts of the American West.
This change in atmosphere will facilitate consulting work that will fund the next adventure. The rig is waiting in San Francisco for me to return to the west coast, where it remains to be seen whether I'll pick a place to stop moving for a while longer or continue traveling around to new destinations (candidate next stops are still as wide ranging as ski trips to Colorado and beach camping in Baja).
My goal this round: to live efficiently in the city so as to bank enough to further the outdoor adventure as much as possible while incorporating some "woodsyness" into city life so as not to burn out by the time I return to the woods. I think I'll have succeeded if I feel a little less relieved the next time I get back to the woods.