The world is an enormous place. There are over seven billion people living all across the globe, and somehow there are still places that remain untouched by man. Some people see this as a good thing. They appreciate the wilderness, the unexplored places of the world, and are content for them to stay that way. They can look out upon the horizon, and have no desire to pursue it. Others, however, feel an inescapable call to roam. These are the voyagers, the ramblers and the adventurers. This call can feel differently to each who experiences it, and some may choose to ignore it. But there are some who do not, and so begin lives lived on the move, in love with the road and whatever the next day may bring.

This call, this wanderlust, is known throughout the world, but many of the words used to describe it are untranslatable. In Swedish, the word resfeber refers to the restless race of the traveler’s heart before the journey begins. The German word fernweh roughly means a deep, intense yearning for faraway places, even stronger than wanderlust. There are countless more words in dozens of languages which attempt to describe the euphoric mixture of joy and fear to which it is so easy to become addicted. So many of them are also untranslatable, and I believe this has to do with the nature of this feeling. This yearning is something felt so deeply in the soul that it’s difficult enough to describe in the words of your own language. To then attempt to define something so buried at the core of one’s being, with the coarse words of a foreign tongue, is nigh impossible. It seems to be part of our nature as humans to experience that which we have never experienced, to go where no one has before, to create what has yet to be created.

Throughout history there have always been those who are discontent with the world as it is, who desire beyond all else to see more of it. First were the sailors, the young boys who ran away from home because they longed for the embrace of the wind and the spray of the sea. Then came soldiers, story-tellers, writers, artists, merchants, and today, musicians. Wanderlust has been felt since the invention of the map, since it became known that more existed than what was under our noses. The lifestyle of an adventurer is fast-paced, romantic, and free, but it does have its drawbacks.

One of my favorite musicians, Frank Turner, writes often of this feeling of wanderlust, of the call of the road and the hunger to keep moving. He describes the love he has for being on the road, but he also tells of the strain that this lifestyle puts on his personal relationships. In his song “St. Christopher is Coming Home,” he chronicles a typical evening of fielding phone calls from faraway friends, inviting him out to events he is too distant to attend, where “in the end [he’s] just a promise to pick up the phone when [he’s] in town”. This wandering lifestyle can also be difficult to quit. In another of his songs, “I Am Disappeared”, Turner describes the agony of remaining in one place while the call of travel tugs constantly at his heart.

“And on the worst days/When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tons/I sleep with my passport/One eye on the back door/So I can always run/I can get up, shower, and in half an hour I'll be gone/And come morning/I am disappeared”

Despite the difficulties, the life of a wanderer is one of unmatched freedom. Limited only by your own creativity, the world is yours to make of it what you will. Eleutheromania, the intense desire for freedom, is something I believe all humans feel. Some find it in their career, some find it in their family, and some in their faith. But some of the best stories are told by those who have found their freedom in the open road, in a journey with no destination at all.