How we actually did it.
Short version: we worked like dogs, sold the house, bought two backpacks.
The "aha" moments
After seven years in the corporate world we were living our own Groundhog Day. Skiing and hiking in Colorado on weekends only postponed the real itch: to see further, eat stranger food, meet people whose lives didn't rhyme with ours. We were also the age at which everyone seemed to be settling down. Our internal clocks ticked to a different song — distant lands, strange faces, unfamiliar bread.
How we got from A to B
Like most kids, we came out of college with debt. At 22 you don't care; at 27 you want to be clear of it. Step one: work our tails off. We doubled up with temp work, wrote bigger cheques to the car and the student loans, and said no to "one more round" more often than our friends liked. Step two: stop renting. After months of tear-inducing listings we found a 1908 bungalow in Denver's Highlands, put in a lowball offer we didn't expect to land — and they took it. Two and a half years later, post-renovation, we listed it in October 2004 and it sold in three weeks. The plan was suddenly real.
The plan
After handing the keys over we were homeless by December 2004. Craig's employer let him work remotely through year-end, so he headed back to Iowa with the dogs. Tina wrapped up business in Denver. January 2005: we regrouped and started planning in earnest. What began as a three-month trip became six, then nine. We came home two days short of one year on the road. Along the way France and the Netherlands got cut (too expensive); Thailand, Laos, Cambodia got extended (our dollar went further).
Coming home
A hard pill to swallow. We wrote about the re-entry here.
Years on, not a day goes by we don't think about the trip. If we could do it, so can you — it just takes sacrifice, discipline, and stubborn self-belief. Safe travels.