Why an Eagle Sent me to Missoula and then Boston

A few weeks ago, I was feeling a little lost about my #Travelswithsqueaky journey. I’d completed my two camp host gigs and then the fires hit Oregon. I realized how vulnerable I was without a place to retreat to and there didn’t seem to be any way to escape.

As the fires started to clear a bit, I spent a week gallivanting around the Olympic Peninsula with a friend. I wasn’t sure where to head to next. I had originally planned to go to California, but the fires, took that off my list. While walking on the beach one day contemplating what to do, an eagle flew over. Ever since my parents died, whenever I see an eagle, I know that it’s them paying me a visit.

So, I said a little prayer out to my parents. “Where should I go next, Mom and Dad?” In that moment, a message came to me that I would have a dream and wake up the next morning knowing where I should go. I went to bed that night and reminded myself that I would get a message in my dreams. Sure enough, I had a dream and it was clear I was to go to Missoula. (I wish I could remember what exactly happened in the dream to give me that message, but I don’t.) I also got the message that once I got there, it would be clear what was next after that.

So, I started to slowly make my way to Missoula from Portland. First I visited my cousin in Seattle then took a rainy and beautiful drive over Stevens Pass to Leavenworth, WA a cute town with a Bavarian theme. I parked for free in a municipal parking lot. Then I made my way to beautiful Lake Chelan, a place a woman I met in the Olympic Peninsula raved about. I camped two nights on a nearby lake and spent one at a vineyard high above the lake with amazing views (and a nice bottle of rose.) From there, I went Spokane for the first time.

I was on my way to Sandpoint, when someone from one of Facebook RV groups reached out that she was in the area. So we planned to meet up. We spent two great days together at Round Lake State Park and then I spent one night at another Harvest Host right in the town of Sandpoint. I was about to make my way toward Montana, when my dear friends from Portland said they were going to be at Priest Lake in Northern Idaho. I should come join them! So, I detoured there for a few days and enjoyed seeing one of Shaun’s favorite places, an off-the-beaten path lake just south of the Canadian border.

We had a wonderful two days together before I said farewell and I was on my own again. A few hours later,  as I crossed the Montana state line, I felt a sense of glee come over me. Here I was, on the open road, free and happy, making my way slowly toward Missoula.  The aspens were turning. The big sky was blue. Rivers and lakes glistened. I’d visited Montana on my last big #TravelswithSqueaky adventure and I’d loved it then too.

I got the last open campsite at Flathead Lake and settled in for a few days. I was still a couple of hours away from Missoula. A few days earlier my sister fell and broke her leg. While I was sitting by this beautiful lakeside, she was in surgery. She’s got three little ones at home and I offered to come .Her response was, “If we ever needed you, it’s now.”

That was all I needed to hear. I knew it would take too long to drive cross country in Squeaky, so I headed back to Portland to leave Olive with my ex.

So there it was, the message of where I needed to go next. Three very long driving days and one Covid test later, I hopped a flight to Boston to go help family.