The Call to Adventure. In literature is the famous theme discussed by Joseph Campbell in his storied book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Campbell believed that stories that last; stories that resonant over decades and generations, all follow an archetypical structure. A pathway that begins with the hero of the story, hearing a call to adventure. A mentor, sage, or more often life circumstances present a challenge or quest that must be undertaken, and once it is, life will never be the same.
The Call is why a farm boy named Luke Skywalker sets out from Tatooine. It’s why Bilbo and Frodo Baggins leave the Shire. It’s why Princess Diana leaves Paradise Island for the world of men.
There are many layers to the archetype concept that Campbell lays out in a Thousand Faces. The reason—I believe—a book written in 1949 still resonates today is because it gives a name to something we all feel in the real world. Adventure, confronting the unknown, discovery, it is part of the DNA of human beings. We need to know what’s in and beyond the forest, across the ocean, up the mountain, or in the next city. Every child—and every parent, if they pay attention to their kids—knows this to be true. When your little boy or girl takes an empty box and turns it into a fort, it’s because they are playing at adventure. When they wish to disappear far from the house and a parent’s watchful eyes, they are going on an adventure.
As we age, many lose that animating need. It gets buried under supposed maturity, real responsibilities; bills, debt, work, or parenthood. But buried is not gone. The Call lies in wait, fermenting and bubbling, ready to rise to the surface and trumpet its call.
I heard the call in June of this godforsaken year. Given that we are in the age of expansive media and social media, it’s fitting that the catalyst to loosening the mantle of life covering my need for adventure was a local news report on YouTube about the Great American Rail Trail.
Imagine a series of dedicated bike trails leading from the east coast of America leading all the way to the other side of the country. Picture getting on a bike and being able to ride across a continent without worrying about cars, trucks, or terrible drivers. That was the beginning hook to the story and hooked I was. I sat on my couch dumbfounded that this was not just some weird idea, but one the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy had been working on for many years. The route starts in Washington, DC, and ends in La Push, Washington. The journey from start to finish is 3700 miles.
The report was only three minutes long. A puff piece meant to add filler to the newscast and present awareness of the project. The trail is incomplete, only half of the 3700-mile journey is on dedicated bike paths and the conversancy is working hard to get the other half of the route, off the major streets and on to old train rails converted into bike paths. But none of that mattered to me. I sat in front of the television with one thought on repeat in my mind.
That sounds so cool!
Let me pause and present a few facts to you. I do not own a bike. I have not ridden a bike in twenty-one years. 21! I do not even like cycling at the gym. There is no logical reason for this idea, this notion that grew like a tapeworm in mind over the next few days, but it did. Something about it struck a spark in me.
I spent the next five days searching and watching videos about biking across the country. I allowed myself to be willfully sucked into the Youtube rabbit holes that lead me to the TransAmerica trail, Southern Tier, Northern Tier and bikepacking. I discovered a whole sub-culture dedicated to touring the country and the world by bike. I sat dumbfounded that I didn’t know such a thing as traveling around by bike was even a thing.
But it was, it is, and I was a fly caught in its web. Curiosity quickly turned to obsession, then transformed into a decision. I would do this. I would get a bike and ride across the country for no other reason than because it sounded cool to do. A Call to Adventure trumpeted from within my soul, and I would sate the need. I would answer that call, come hell or high water.
And that is the idea behind the Wheels to Adventure newsletter. Documenting the steps needed to heed the Call, talking about the challenges, preparation, and hopefully providing inspiration for your own call to adventure.
There are many who will find this newsletter whom are already into biking, camping, overlanding, or backpacking. I hope to provide inspiration and funny insight for you as you await your own next adventure. However, there will be others who are thinking about it, or have a spouse trying to convince them to go on an adventure with them. People that have done nothing like this at all. I belong to that group. I have not pitched, nor slept in a tent since I was a teenager. I have a job. I have bills. I have a younger brother who is special needs and no one to leave him with.
In other words, like any decent hero in a call to adventure story, there are obstacles that I have to confront and overcome if I’m to even start on my journey. Read, subscribe, and draw inspiration from me as I work to overcome these impediments and roadblocks.
See how I shake the rust of adulthood off to add some zest and energy to my life. Read and vicariously live through my own adventure as entertainment until you can heed your own Call to Adventure.
