Retirement Travel Brings Joy, But Home Can Be Tough.

The initial few years of retirement tend to be particularly challenging. However, these years can also establish the foundation for your future decades both economically and mentally. Stephen Kreider Yoder, an experienced former Wall Street Journal editor, retired alongside his spouse, Karen Kreider Yoder, at the end of 2022. In this regular Retirement Beginners column, the duo share their experiences as 67-year-old newcomers to retirement.

Steve

In July, as we cycled alongside the northern coast of Japan, a reader emailed us with a message that has remained a topic of discussion among us ever since.

We logged a lot of miles during the initial couple of years post-retirement by traveling extensively, but for the past six months, we decided to stay put at home for the very first time in our lives," shared Colleen, aged 64 from Washington state. "Being within our locality, inside our house, tending to our garden has turned out to be far more delightful than we anticipated.

Colleen’s comments resonated with us since Karen and I had been discussing during our ride if it might be appropriate to slow things down upon returning home by the end of summer. "Perhaps it will be time for a fresh start," I mentioned multiple times.

Almost half of our time has been spent traveling since I retired. We have no regrets about any of these experiences, be it cycling across America, wandering through the Algerian Sahara, or taking an Amtrak train to visit Dad in Iowa. Our trip to Japan’s Hokkaido Island exceeded all expectations as we cycled past fishing communities, ascended mountainous routes, and traversed farmlands reminiscent of my youth.

With every kilometer covered during our journey this summer, we found ourselves increasingly eager to simply return home—not merely for a respite but continuously so.

We’re back now, and still determined to stay. But for me that means admitting I haven’t figured out how to be retired at home yet. One of my biggest discoveries since quitting work has been how hard it is for me to get off the couch and find stuff to fill the vacuum where my career used to be. The emptiness of a blank slate is daunting.

For many years, my work dictated a significant portion of my daily routine. Unanticipated tasks would constantly bombard me, necessitating innovative choices that frequently resulted in satisfying conclusions. Looking back, the consistent stream of challenges was quite addicting.

Travel can act like a potent drug. No matter whether I'm exploring an uncharted land or driving along the serpentine roads of Appalachia, each trip inundates me with fresh challenges hourly. On these journeys, the path dictates which choices I have to make.

At home, the responsibility falls on my shoulders to seek out tasks, but I'm not skilled at doing so. I spend time fiddling in the garage, fixing stuff around the house, reading occasionally, and riding in the park with Karen—before eventually starting to pull out maps to fantasize about planning another journey as though I need an escape from everything.

I'm envisioning my retirement as a time when traveling will be reduced, focusing more on making our house feel like a cozy haven instead of a starting point for new adventures. A key part of this shift involves accepting that being unproductive doesn’t mean failure; it means I can enjoy staying at home indulging in reading, listening to music, or engaging in enjoyable hobbies without feeling guilty about not pursuing bigger goals outside.

I've got numerous role models. One acquaintance recently retired and promptly took up an engaging schedule involving gardening, playing pickleball, going bowling, and spending time with their grandchildren. Others have discovered part-time editing jobs that appear to offer both fulfillment and a pleasant daily routine.

What I particularly admire about Karen is how since her retirement began, she has filled her days both at home and within the community with fulfilling endeavors that significantly benefit others. While she looks forward to traveling, she also finds joy in returning to her post-retirement lifestyle of staying at home.

We've been attempting to welcome more individuals into our house since we have extra free time these days. Getting accustomed to life at home also involves participating in local activities, as I realize now. Therefore, I've started registering for additional volunteer opportunities and am contemplating finding part-time employment—not primarily for financial reasons, but to establish an external routine that gives me something to return to after finishing my day. An old acquaintance who has retired works part-time in the bicycle section of a sporting goods store—this option seems quite appealing.

However, I could be beyond redemption. A few weeks ago, I discreetly placed an order for 12 maps outlining a bicycle path through the American Northwest. These maps lie beneath my desk as I compose this, whispering enticingly to me.

Karen

Back home once more, back home once more, and there’s an abundance of activities awaiting me since my retirement.

Too much, sometimes.

During my initial week back from Japan, I sent emails to friends who lived close enough to walk to. This list eventually expanded to include 20 individuals, excluding any children they might have had.

“I’m ready to catch up with everyone,” I penned. “Interested in joining me for a bicycle trip to the seaside?...Would you like to swing by and hang out on our front porch during the early evening hours?” Right away, an acquaintance extended an invitation to attend a debate-watch session, and someone else suggested organizing a community-style potluck dinner. My new neighbor joined me as we cycled down to the shore to admire the full moon together. When one of my friends needed a large cooking vessel for their upcoming shrimp boil event, they borrowed my biggest pot.

Unlike Steve, I don’t spend much time wrestling with how to define my new position in life when we’re not on the move.

Staying at home is very soothing for me. I rise with the sun, brew some coffee, and move about the house solo. After emptying the dishwasher, I enjoy reading the printed edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. Later, I tackle several crossword puzzles and send the completed ones to my sisters via text.

Everything before sunrise or before Steve arrives.

Staying at home brings me great pleasure. I prepare dishes to enjoy with friends. I dry apples and grapes for later use. I also create plum jam and quince butter. In addition, I craft comforters and patchwork quilts. My days are filled with various activities such as scanning photographs, organizing documents, constructing sock monkeys, conducting meetings for my women’s group, and teaching an adult student.

My career previously dictated a significant part of my daily routine, just as it did for Steve. Now, in retirement, I have chosen my own occupation, which feels more like a personal endeavor than a traditional job.

The challenge I face is that I frequently opt for "yes" when asked to take on more responsibilities, which leads me to feel overwhelmed by the numerous items on my task list—even though many of these activities bring me pleasure.

A possible approach: I enumerate every task along with the estimated time needed, which makes them appear more manageable. Complete childhood fabric quilt—20 hours. Organize childhood documents—8 hours. Make photo albums for each of my three boys—15 hours before Christmas.

So, I committed to a personal agreement: use my mornings for tackling necessary chores such as paperwork, running errands, and handling those pesky duties I usually put off. Then, in the afternoons, I'll indulge in activities I enjoy, including sewing, reading, cooking, and cycling.

Next up are my recurring weekly commitments—I meditate every Tuesday morning via Zoom, have a cozy dinner and braid blankets on Tuesdays at night, and cycle to collect our community-supported agricultural share every Wednesday morning. Once each month, we celebrate Serendipity Day with Steve; we randomly select from a jar a piece of paper that has an unplanned activity written on it for us to enjoy together.

These occasional activities ensure routine and continuity throughout the week.

Whenever my tasks start feeling overwhelming, I have a reliable way to refresh myself: traveling. If we go away for over a month, I pause these responsibilities—and return to them with fresh energy.

It will likely take until sometime next spring for me to require the next reset, which is perfect timing to embark on another cross-country journey. Since Steve admitted to purchasing those Northern Tier bicycle maps, I've begun looking into campgrounds along our intended path.

The Yoders reside in San Francisco. You can contact them at reports@wsj.com.