The Senescent Nomad Seeks a Home

By John Walters

When the woman he has been traveling with returns to Europe, the heartbroken senescent nomad becomes disenchanted with his lifestyle on the road and decides to find a home. His search takes him up the West Coast from San Diego to Puget Sound. Along the way he encounters sophisticated transients at a makeshift homeless encampment, sinister campers in the wilderness, seductive members of a wandering sex cult, and idiosyncratic individuals at a gathering of science fiction and fantasy writers. As he travels, he discovers that abandoning the nomadic lifestyle is far more difficult than initiating it. Faced with the uncertainty, confusion, and perils of the open road, he wonders if he will manage to gain the stability of a place he can call his own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Astaria Books
• Release date: Dec 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393821076

John Walters

John Walters recently returned to the United States after thirty-five years abroad. He lives in Seattle, Washington. He attended the 1973 Clarion West science fiction writing workshop and is a member of Science Fiction Writers of America. He writes mainstream fiction, science fiction and fantasy, and memoirs of his wanderings around the world.

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Contents

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1. Prelude

2. The New Goal

3. Interlude One: The Mansion

4. The Encampment

5. The Wilderness

6. The Intruders

7. Interlude Two: Early Forays

8. Destruction

9. The Long and Winding Road

10. Interlude Three: The Apartment

11. Mendocino

12. The Commune

13. Interlude Four: The Duplex

14. Mortality

15. Linkup

16. Redwoods

17. Interlude Five: The Valley

18. The Memorial

19. Possibilities

20. The Unexpected

21. The Meeting

22. The House

23. Help

24. The Parties

25. Onward

26. End Notes

At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house.

- Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Chapter 1: Prelude

For unfortunate readers who have not yet read the first volume in this series, a quick recap might be in order.

After my youngest son moved off on his own, I was left with the prospect of living by myself in an apartment in Seattle. The sale of movie rights to one of my stories offered an alternative. Instead of stretching out the lump sum payment as far as I could while paying rent and bills in a stationary location, I decided to buy a camper van and hit the road. After all, I'm a writer, and writers can write anywhere. I got rid of most of my possessions, at least whatever wouldn't fit into the van, and entered into the life of a van dwelling nomad.

I nicknamed my van Good Fortune. As an initial destination, I decided to head for a science fiction convention in San Diego to which I had been invited. Traveling down the West Coast, I relearned what it meant to live on the road and had some adventures, misadventures, and even some brief liaisons with fascinating women.

En route to the convention, I contacted a British woman named Maggie I'd used to know who had recently gotten divorced and asked her to join me on my trip. After contemplating my offer, when she got back to me she told me no; however, she abruptly changed her mind and appeared at my hotel room door in San Diego as a surprise. Considering that at the moment she showed up I had another scantily clad woman in the room, Maggie manifested considerable magnanimity, nonchalance, and restraint. The other woman left, and shortly afterwards two of my sons arrived and expressed a desire to join me on my journey for a week or so. Now that Maggie had come, I might have regretfully told them that there wasn't room in the van for all of us. However, Maggie decided that it would be great fun if we four all hit the road together.

And that's where I left off the first tale. Maggie and the boys went to a restaurant to eat, and I took a few minutes of contemplation in the parking lot with Good Fortune before joining them.

*     *     *

Maggie was right about our joyous journey. We had a good time making our way around the Southwest. We visited Lake Havasu City and Sedona and the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park and Valley of Fire State Park and Las Vegas and Joshua Tree National Park and Palm Springs. Some of those locales were not places that I would have visited on my own; they were far too touristic for my tastes. However, I had no set itinerary, and when I am in the company of others I tend to be a bit of a pushover when decisions are made. I had James, Jeff, and Maggie along, and in that context, for me at least, specific locations were irrelevant.

After James and Jeff left, Maggie decided to postpone her return flight for five days so we could spend some one-on-one time together. We drove north from San Diego, where we had dropped the boys at the airport, until we found a campground next to a beach on the south side of the city of Carlsbad, and there we parked and rested from our wanderings. We romped in the surf, took barefoot walks in the sand, stargazed, cooked simple meals, drank cheap wine, and even smoked pot a few times. Maggie had never gotten high before, and it was hilarious when she giggled and slurred her words with what I had always perceived as her incredibly sensuous British accent.

It was fun, sure, and the first couple of days I more or less successfully pushed away any profound questions that were all but screaming in my mind to escape. You know what I mean. Like: Where is this going? Or: Are you really leaving? Or: What can I say to make you stay?

After those first idyllic hours, though, her departure loomed as a black hole that I didn't really want to focus my awareness on. I was sure that she contemplated her departure too, but her personality was different from mine. My tendency to reflect deeply upon circumstances would cause me to become brooding and introspective, while she would cope with difficult situations using ebullience and banter.

Something was bound to snap in the ill-disguised cover-up of our emotions, and it did on an evening a few days before she was scheduled to fly out.

Maggie and I were sitting on foldout chairs sipping wine and watching the sunset. Waves curled up onto the shore and a long wide swath of reflected light on the water made a narrowing path to the horizon.

Don't go, I said.

I have to and you know it, said Maggie. My daughter's going to have a baby. I'm cutting it close as it is.

Then come back right after the baby's born. We'll travel together. Not just a week's tour, but real travel. We can cross the States, visit Canada and Alaska... Hell, if you want, we can even go to Mexico.

Maggie grinned. That's an enticing offer, I must admit.

Then take me up on it. What's stopping you?

You know I've always liked you...

That sounds ominous.

Don't take it that way. I love you. I do. But I don't know if I'm ready to cut loose and live with you.

Why not?

Many reasons - and none of them have to do directly with you. Life gets complicated.

It doesn't have to be. Let's simplify it.

Maggie sipped wine and gestured towards the sun, which had touched the horizon and sprayed a rainbow over the sky. You certainly seem to have done it. I don't know if I'm ready for this sort of lifestyle full time.

If you can stay, I'll change it. We can get a place. While we're traveling, we can look for one together. We'll find a cozy house in a beautiful location and we'll sit on the porch in our rocking chairs...

We both burst out laughing.

I'm serious, though, I said.

I know you are.

Marry me. I blurted it out on the spur of the moment; it was completely unplanned, but when I said it, I meant it.

What did you say?

You heard me. Do you want me to get down on one knee?

No I don't. Maggie smiled and sipped wine. I think you're sweet, but you can't be serious. You have no idea how hard I am to get along with.

We've done fine so far.

It's been less than two weeks, and we've been on holiday. Sure, it's been fun, but...

She took my hand. Look, sweetie, I don't want to belittle what you've just asked, but if you're serious...

I am.

If you're serious, I can't give you an answer now - or probably even soon. I need some time to think about it. To think about my life and to think about us.

"But you will take it seriously? You will think about it?"

I will. I promise. But right now I want to go inside and set the van to rocking. Are you up for that?

Of course I am.

Subsequent activities effectively put the discussion on hold.

But the subject came up again the next day.

It wasn't Maggie's fault; I think she would have been happy to forget her looming departure and enjoy her final few days in the sunshine without the impediment of relationship complications.

I brought it up. I admit it. I had behaved like this in the past with other women. Shades of déjà vu! I would become emotionally attached and only then would it hit me how miserable I had been when I was all alone. I would become morose and petulant and pleading.

You've got to snap out of it, said Maggie. Relax and have fun. I told you I'd think about it. There's nothing more to be said right now.

She was right. I tried to lighten up. However, since I didn't want to blurt out the wrong thing and alienate Maggie, I became unsure of myself and tongue-tied. Trying too hard only made matters worse.

All too quickly the day came when I had to drive Maggie to the airport. Leaving the van in the parking garage, I walked with her through the corridors to airport security, beyond which I could not go. She carried her shoulder bag, while she allowed me the chivalrous task of pulling her suitcase.

We stopped near the entrance to the security line.

This is it, she said.

Yes.

She kissed me on the forehead, then on each cheek, and then on the mouth. Thank you, she said. I had a wonderful time.

And that was that. The airport swallowed her up. She was gone, and I didn't know if I would ever see her again.

I walked back to the van and climbed into the driver's seat, but I didn't start it up. The truth was that I had no idea where I wanted to go. This was the first moment since I had left Seattle that I had no destination in mind. Just like the ships of old, I was caught in the doldrums without a hint of wind to move my sails. I had no desire to go anywhere or do anything. I might have stayed there indefinitely; after all, I had food to eat and a bed to sleep in. However, the realization came to me that it wouldn't be allowed. In the past it might have been permissible, but airport security was tight these days.

So I had to make a move. But where? Moving out onto a city street wasn't the answer; I'd get harassed there too. Yet I couldn't focus on a solution to my dilemma. I could hardly think at all.

It took hours before my thoughts congealed into some sort of semblance of normalcy. When they did, the obvious solution that presented itself was to find a campground for a day or two. I could wallow in my misery until I got that out of my system, and then I could give some thought to my next move.

Campgrounds in the city of San Diego were too expensive, so once again I headed north. It was exceedingly difficult for me to make sense of whatever I was passing on either side of the highway, so in the end, I stopped again at the campground to which I'd brought Maggie. I'm not a glutton for punishment. Honestly. It's just that I couldn't think and I had to stop somewhere.

Chapter 2: The New Goal

I have been heartbroken before - several times. Each occasion was a singular experience. The past, the future, the entire universe apart from the event vanishes so that you are only aware of what is occurring in the painful present. I don't want to go all maudlin on you, but the trauma of separation is real. Ask anyone whose partner unexpectedly wants a divorce after years of marriage. However, this was a situation in which the wisdom of age came into play. Because I had been through it before, I knew that the wounds would heal and I would make it through - perhaps not unscathed; perhaps with lingering scars - to a mindset of relative calm and serenity. That realization served to hasten my recovery.

In fact, within two days the storm had passed, and I had managed to ride it out without the assistance of drugs or liquor. It still hurt, but the hurt was manageable. My mind stilled, and I recognized that I was once again in control.

I had hardly eaten anything in the last forty-eight hours or so. To celebrate the recovery of my senses, I went out and bought some In-N-Out burgers and a six-pack of beer and brought them back to the van for a plebeian repast. I normally watch what I eat very carefully, but this was no time for getting obsessive about nutrition; this was a time to let loose and breathe a sigh of relief.

After finishing the food and a couple of beers, I sat sated at the table in my van with the side door wide open. A light evening breeze, cool but not cold, came in off the ocean. I still retained a feeling of emptiness behind my solar plexus, but I realized that it wouldn't go away soon and I would need to learn to put up with it as it gradually dissipated and disappeared.

In the meantime, what next? I had to make a move soon. This campground wasn't cheap. Even more important, though: I had to get on with my life. I had to have a direction and a goal. It was too late in the year to head north into Canada and Alaska. I didn't feel safe crossing the border into Mexico. To the west was a whole lot of water.

That left east. But where?