Walking in the fog one morning near Lizard.

When I was growing up in Southern California, I’d sometimes see a scruffy-looking guy walking along the highway carrying a bag and a bedroll. My mom said, “Oh, they’re hobos who walk up the coast for the summer, then back down the coast for the winter. ” (She was a kind of pundit to me–told me a lot of things as fact that could have been merely her assumptions.) 

I immediately envied their freedom, those hobos. They just wandered where they pleased: no school, no job, just walk and see new things every day! I thought, “Wow, that is the coolest thing. I’d like to do that someday…”  In fact, I was doing it already, sort-of. I’d take walks after school and on Saturdays just to look around places that seemed interesting. Sometimes I’d pack a lunch and go out all day, maybe all the way to the other end of Long Beach by following one long street, or into the nearby oil fields, the Navy base, or other places that were off-limits. I did this instead of after-school electives, sports, or the Boy Scouts. I liked my time alone. 

On New Island, where I’m a “travel wanderer”, I have been walking around on the island’s Path System for several years now. The paths are all Commonwealth-maintained, with campgrounds, rustic stores, inns, supply centers, hot springs spas, spiritual retreats, and all manner of facilities and services catering to walkers, cyclers, horseback riders, and even wheelchair-bound wanderers. I’ve met some interesting characters out there, as you will see.   

 And I’ve never outgrown the desire to wander.

Wandering is about the joy of climbing over a hill (or a dune) and seeing the next new thing ahead, in this case Newtonabbey and Blind Point, along the South Bight shore.