I like arriving. And I like leaving. Sometimes it doesn’t seem to matter what I do in-between. An end and a beginning. Enjoy something … and let it go.
It has taken me a life-time to understand this. One needs that long to truly see that nothing stays the same. To me, this is why some of us feel more in accord with nature when we’re on the road. It’s not any particular place. It’s the process.
This is why I like the beach. It is in motion. Constantly.
And why I like mountain lakes. They are the opposite of that.
I have spent almost a year now, hanging around with fellow travelers. We all agree that having a destination in mind is important. Once one has a goal, pieces fall into place around it. We also, as a group, have learned that being too attached to that goal can lead to missing out on the serendipity … unexpected experiences along the way.
On the road, I have become more familiar with these larger rhythms. I am more in touch with nature. I can recognize patterns in the sky. I can feel the wind rising in the trees. I can tell when rain is in the way. And I feel more in touch with people, now that I don’t have to be around them all the time.
I just finished my first big wave – a trip to the Northwest and British Columbia. Did not take as long as I thought it would. Gas is expensive in B.C. and my free pass was to National parks, not Provincial parks … where most of the action is. I am back in Washington, I still have half the summer, so what to do next?
I have decided to head for the going-to-the-sky highway in Glacier National park. RV’s are not allowed on it, but I’ll figure something out. There is a shuttle. Then I will head south, through Wyoming to Colorado. Ian Muir (he will fly out from England) and I plan to photograph the 50th Aspen Ruggerfest.
Currently, this is the future I imagine. It will organize my next couple of months. There is a little fear and a little joy in knowing that it won’t go exactly that way.