Told through journal entries, dreams, and emailed travelogues -- with an occasional recipe tossed in -- this heartwarming story of one woman's midlife search for Home winds through terrain both personal and public. From the Pacific Northwest to the Canadian Rockies, from Yellowstone to Maine and west again through Santa Fe, Claire describes the inner and outer landscapes with poetic honesty and subtle humor. This book is truly a beacon to all who step into uncertainty in search of where they belong.

At the age of almost 40, I plunged voluntarily into homelessness, unemployment, and uncertainty. I packed my belongings into storage, quit my job, forfeited my rented cottage, and hit the road in search of Home. Three and a half months on the road -- 15,000 miles, 29 states, four provinces -- driving solo in a 1988 Honda Civic, taught me a few things about travel. Here are five tips, shared with you to make your road trip more rewarding:

Organize your car into zones. An organized car softens the challenges of being on the road. Loading and unloading becomes easier, and finding what you want quickly allows you to move on to the task at hand, be it setting up camp or cooking dinner. I used my trunk for my shelter and clothing zones, one side of the back seat for cooking-related items (the cooler and two boxes, one for food, a second for dishes), and the other side of the back seat for my bedding. Because I was traveling alone, I designated the front passenger seat as my music and maps zone.

Trust your intuition. Our intuition is our connection to guidance. Listen to it! If your inner knowing tells you to "turn here" or "let's check this place out," respond with a hearty "Aye, aye, Cap'n!" and do as you're told. Similarly, if something feels yucky, it probably is. Don't stubbornly push your way forward when your gut is saying "don't go there."

Be willing to deviate from your plan. The first time I ever went river rafting, my soon-to-be-sweetheart dumped me out of the boat at the top of the worst rapid on that run: Troublemaker. He was so certain he knew how to run the rapid that he neglected to go with the river's flow instead of his preconceived intentions. Oops. Road trips and running rivers both invite us to navigate what's in front of us instead of what we think should be there. We may avoid catastrophe, and we may find unexpected joys.

Talk to strangers. Whether it's a fellow traveler, the kid pumping gas, or the person behind you in line, strike up a conversation. One of my favorite diversions was a trip to Nelson, British Columbia. I had planned to head into Montana, but wasn't ready to leave the Canadian Rockies, so I turned right toward the mountains when I should have turned left to stay on course. I found myself in Fernie, staying at a hostel run by some Australian chaps. Over a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, they suggested I go to Nelson, promising I'd find fresh organic produce. I took their advice, and relish the memories from that detour to this day. (For details, you'll have to read the book, Following Raven, Finding Ground: A Road Trip in Search of Home.)

Journal. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but words are what communicate our experience, our thoughts and feelings. I noted in my calendar where I stayed each night, and kept a journal of my dreams as well as my journey. (It was this journal, along with the emailed travelogues that I launched from public libraries along the way, that formed the basis for my book.) Years later, reading my journal entries brings back the trip far more accurately (and acutely) than does looking through my picture album.

About The Author

Claire Josefine is the author of Following Raven, Finding Ground: A Road Trip in Search of Home and of The Spiritual Art of Being Organized.