The drive home was gorgeous. The views however, were hard for us to see. We were too busy seeing our house, our dreams, and our life as we wanted it to be. We couldn’t wait to get home and start the build. However, for now, the tiny house trailer became our
kitchen. We used it to prepare our meals, and to eat on. It was a total upgrade from the random patches of ground that had been our surface of choice prior to.
We planned to take the northern route home – through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, across the Mackinac bridge, and South to home.
Our first stop, was just outside of Portland. The little town was picture perfect, it looked like a scene in a movie. A local woodworker had built and carved stuff in every spot, and building in the town. Intricate carvings and clever furniture abounded. The views of the distant mountains were amazing, and the layout was very tasteful. A spot you could see yourself settling down in.
Amongst this bliss however, a small dark cloud was fringing around the edge of our consciousness. Us, and this small cross over vehicle, had to get this monstrosity of a trailer through the mountains in one piece. The trailer pushed us more than we pulled it. The truck held tight though. We had a few hairy moments, but we made it through safe and sound.
Next stop Portland, Michigan. Next stop, home. After the monotony of the plains, the Upper Peninsula was a welcomed woodland retreat. We drove straight through, hitting the Mackinac Bridge around Two A.M., until at long last we were home. Home felt good, and we were ready to begin building not just our home, but our way of life.