On September 1, 2010, I walked out the front door of my friend's house in Vancouver, BC with the intention of walking to Mexico.  Actually, the first place I walked was to the bus stop at the end of the block: I took the local bus to the ferry terminal and, over the next two days, took a series of ferries to arrive in Port Angeles, Washington, in the far northwestern corner of the US.

198 days later – and 1,200 miles down the road in Santa Cruz, California – it seems funny to recall the trepidation I felt on that first bus ride.  Nearly everything I possessed was new: backpack, tent, sleeping bag, shoes; in fact, I was so green, I had never before spent a night camping on my own.  Looking down the long road towards Mexico, all I could feel was that unique mix of fear and excitement that accompanies us on a journey into the unknown.

First Step, Vancouver, BC. 9.1.10

“Why?”, I suppose, is the question worth answering, but after walking more than six months, I've found that this type of travel brings up more questions than answers.  Here are two answers I've discovered, however: i) nobody else on the West Coast is walking as a genuine means of locomotion; and ii) nearly everyone is relying on technology to connect with one another and, in so doing, tending to avoid the sticky business of real, face to face human relationships and the sense of personal vulnerability that can come with that.  None of us seem to want to engage with the world in the way we were designed – that is, without the helpful aid of technology.

The trouble, I believe, is that our disconnection with the humanity in each other and in ourselves has left us bereft of the type of synergy that can develop into inspiration, creativity, and love. The environmental destruction and nomadism that characterizes modern life in the American West has engendered a type of loneliness that is barely concealed behind the casual friendliness, sexuality, drug and alcohol use, and Facebook poking that passes for 21st century community interaction.  What we really want, I believe, is a sense of home, a sense that our lives can be meaningful, a sense of being able to make a difference. 

Manzanita, OR. 10.2.10 

Lincoln City, OR. 10.11.10

Bandon, OR. 11.1.10

Which is to say that what we really need is a new type of story.  We are, after all, just the stories that we tell ourselves, and it's clear that the pace of technological and ecological change has outpaced the development of even our brightest storytellers.  Storytelling itself has been usurped by economic interests and corporations: just view the tacit way we accept Facebook's gentle reminder that our friends 'like' specific products or services, as if it were somehow equivalent to the advice that might once have been given over a cup of tea or passed from grandmother to daughter. 

Walking through America, at this time in history, can't help but be a social statement.  In town after town, I've met people who bemoan the need for genuine connection and community.  My response has been to offer myself as a type of catalyst for interaction between strangers.  I have experimented with a number of forms in this regard: from recording people's love stories to handing out photographs of people I have met on previous travels, with the idea that I will return to those places with a photo of an American holding that person's photo.  Even sharing my stories of places I've been and plan to go offers a type of inspiration and introspection absent from most people's normal routines.  In creating a novel situation – for both the subject and the artist – I believe that we allow ourselves to tap into that greater sense of creativity, of love, and work together to create some sort of synergy.  These are my attempts to bring the joys of the Facebook/Chatroulette experience back to the real world.  The technology is a tool used to document it, but isn't intended to be the form of interaction itself.

Fern Canyon, CA. 11.20.10 

Manila, CA. 12.11.10

Redway, CA. 12.22.10

To that end, I have been documenting some of the learnings and stories my walk online, at walkingtomexico.com.  But, as I walk, I think constantly about the end product, the Thing I Am Making, that I expect will be another real world opportunity for strangers to interact and share ideas and stories.  That it will be both in America and in India adds a nice, 21st century opportunity for a balance between the global and the local; for the writing of a new kind of story. 

Hales Grove, CA. 1.3.11 

Albion, CA. 1.9.11

Sausalito, CA. 2.4.11

I hope that you can not only follow my journey, but be involved in it.  I believe that community fundraising is the only way this type of project can come to life, and, as such, I am running a Kickstarter.com project to support my work.  Please consider visiting my project site, viewing the video, and, if you're able, offering your support as I walk on with the intention of contributing to a new type of community interaction based on an old idea.  Wandering storytellers have been around for as long as we can remember and, with any luck – and with your help - we'll be around for a lot longer still.

Onwards! From Santa Cruz, only 650 miles to go until Mexico!

Best wishes,
Jordan Bower.
http://www.walkingtomexico.com