“All Who Wander…” The Story of a Traveler Who Lived and Died on His Own Terms

This is Kam’s story as told to Melissa Gouty. Our “Opening Our Hearts” stories are based on people’s real-life experiences. By sharing these experiences publicly, we hope to help our readers feel less alone in their grief and, ultimately, to aid them in their healing process. In this story, Kam talks about a man a who lived “off the grid” for most of his life, a “traveler” who followed no one’s rules but his own. Fondly called “Uncle John” by those who knew him, he came to the only place where he had connections when it was his time to die. But then, for reasons no one quite understood, he wandered off to die alone. 

Uncle John with Pyramid and Mo

“Traveler” is a nice word for those who wander — without roots, without obligations, without responsibilities — through the countryside.

Other people might use the terms hobo, tramp, bum or vagrant, but those are words used without understanding the spirit of the traveler. I think of my boyfriend, Cody, who wandered around the countryside free as a blowing leaf when he was younger, a gentle Bohemian soul who enjoyed being alone with nature and wasn’t worried about settling down. 

I think of Cody in his youth and remember the phrase, “Not all who wander are lost.” 

Then I think of old, dying Uncle John, and I wonder if some who wander ARE lost or just choose to be alone in the end.

Men and Dogs and the Bonds of Friendship 

Cody and Uncle John met when they were both travelers. Uncle John came through Humboldt County every few years and usually stayed for a few days. Cody and Uncle John had gotten to know each other a decade ago or so when they were both in Garberville, partly because their dogs liked each other. Pyramid was Cody’s old dog, and Uncle John had Smokey, a dog gifted to him long ago by a fellow traveler with the nickname Hillbilly. 

The tiny town “fit” Cody, a place with a Bohemian vibe and a “back-to-the-land” philosophy. 

Uncle John moved on, but Cody stayed in Garberville, choosing to live a more traditional, stay-in-one-place lifestyle. The tiny town “fit” Cody, a place with a Bohemian vibe and a “back-to-the-land” philosophy. 

Garberville is in Humboldt County, where natural medicine and alternative healing places are commonplace — where people sell incense and organic produce rather than high-fashion clothing or fancy cars. A remote setting where the timber industry is strong and the marijuana industry is even stronger. 

A town surrounded by the natural beauty of mountains and lakes, and scented with the lingering aroma of damp earth, fragrant pine and the occasional whiff of weed. 

The Past Meets the Present 

Cody and Pyramid settled into life in Garberville. 

And it’s here in Garberville where the past met the present. The young embraced the old. The rooted welcomed the wandering. The healthy cared for the dying. 

Uncle John had been a traveler all his life. He had earned his nickname “Uncle” because he had helped other young travelers for years, guiding them to safe places, offering company in isolated camping spots and demonstrating kindness when it was needed.

So when an old, obviously ill Uncle John re-appeared in Garberville driving his battered, vintage Dolphin RV, Cody felt the pull of his previous connection to him. Since Uncle John needed a place to park his motorhome, and Cody had space, the Dolphin rolled onto a grassy area not far from Cody’s house. 

Uncle John roamed the country in his battered old Dolphin RV, and eventually came to park it in Cody’s yard.

While he may have been on the fringe of society, everybody knew and liked Uncle John. 

Fellow traveler Hillbilly had once again gifted Uncle John with a puppy after Smokey  died. Now Uncle John had Moe, an American-bully/pit mix. Hillbilly told Uncle John that if he couldn’t take care of the dog, he’d take him back, but the bond was already formed. Uncle John and Moe became a team, always together. 

He told me that he had come to get “healed up” before he went back to Arizona. 

But it turned out that Uncle John needed help. He had come back to Humboldt County to seek a cure for what ailed him, believing that alternative, non-Western medicine was what he needed. He told me that he had come to get “healed up” before he went back to Arizona. 

He was tall and gaunt. Emaciated with a huge, swollen abdomen.    

The Love of Fellow Travelers

Other travelers from the past, like Cody and a couple of his friends, had settled near Garberville. Cody introduced them to Uncle John.  These men, strangers to Uncle John just days ago, began to take him under their wings. 

It was hard, trying to respect Uncle John’s wishes for non-Western medicine and watching his physical decline. 

Eventually, a fellow traveler took matters into his own hands, getting Uncle John to agree to go to a hospital in Arcata and letting Moe lick Uncle John’s hands as they walked out the door. The puppy whined like he already knew the ending to the story.   

One exam of Uncle John and the doctors were scrambling to transport their patient to a bigger hospital for much-needed care. 

The doctors prescribed opioids for the pain and sent him home to his delighted dog, Moe.  

Uncle John had cancer and a heart condition. His prognosis was terrible. We all thought that he would die in the hospital, but he didn’t. He hung in there. The doctors prescribed opioids for the pain and sent him home to his delighted dog, Moe.  

When Uncle John returned to his camper, I asked him to sit outside in the sun and made him a sandwich. He was so grateful for the small kindness. Then I watched as he vomited it up.

It was clear that Uncle John was not long for this world. 

Several of Cody’s friends, other kind souls like Cody, did what they could to help Uncle John. One of them in particular, another traveler who had beaten cancer and understood living alone, helped Uncle John with medicines and tinctures, took him out to eat, and kept him company occasionally. Another of Cody’s friends helped by researching hospice care for this man who had no family or close connections, but Uncle John didn’t have much money, and hospice was too expensive. 

Uncle John had no choice but to live in his Dolphin RV not too far from a former traveler’s home.  

Uncle John loved the freedom of the outdoors even as he became more and more ill.

We Tried to Help …

Since Uncle John lived on Cody’s property, we looked in on him frequently while still respecting his privacy. But when we hadn’t seen Uncle John outside for a few days, we went to check on him. As soon as we got close, we knew something was wrong.  

He was too weak to make it to the bathroom. He was too ill and out of it to maintain his dignity. 

When Cody opened the door, we were nearly knocked off our feet by the noxious smell. Several piles of excrement stained the carpet, and when I looked up, I saw Uncle John,  pants around his ankles, letting go of his bowels on the floor of the living room. He was too weak to make it to the bathroom. He was too ill and out of it to maintain his dignity. 

The only living creature willing to live with Uncle John in those circumstances was Moe, his faithful puppy. The dog didn’t want to leave, but we couldn’t let him stay in all the filth, laying in excrement, unfed and thirsty.  

We put Moe in Cody’s house and made some calls asking two of Cody’s compassionate friends to help out. They did, getting Uncle John cleaned up and taking him to the doctor while I scooped feces and gagged on the smells that permeated the RV. 

I cried the whole time.   

Somehow, some way, Uncle John went to stay with someone else for a few days. To this day, I still feel guilty because I was so relieved that he wasn’t right there anymore, that I didn’t have to worry about him. That I didn’t have to see how painful and ugly the dying process is. 

In the weeks that followed, we knew that Uncle John went to live with some older women for a while before his niece sent him enough money to live in a motel, where he stayed, alone, until he died. 

We’ll Never Know

Right after Uncle John died, Cody’s ancient dog, Pyramid, died, too.

Cody and Moe relax in the sun

Cody and Moe, in their separate griefs, found each other. Cody grieved for both Uncle John and Pyramid, two living creatures who had been connected to him. Moe, the dog, mourned the loss of his master, Uncle John, and found comfort in Cody, who seemed to understand. 

And me? 

I discovered that death can be ugly and smelly, and nothing you can do will make it prettier or easier.

I realized that each “traveler,” hobo, vagrant, tramp or homeless person is a human being and needs love and kindness at the end of life, no matter how solitary or unconventional it has been. 

I found comfort in seeing that the kindness of strangers is real and that people exist who willingly help travelers, wanderers and misfits, no matter where they live or what their situation.  

I learned that in the end, sometimes those who wander — if not lost — are alone when they die, whether they choose to be or not.