It can happen at anytime to anyone. Long term travelers succumb most easily because of the sheer intensity they experience regularly, but anyone can experience burnout. Whether it be cathedral/museum burnout on a two-week marathon through Europe, or, in my case, red rock burnout in Moab.
Certain places possess a vibe that can be unexplainable. A power to draw you in so that you only sit in wonder. Such places transcend the modern and cause you to wholeheartedly embrace a higher being, whether you call it God, Mohammed, Buddha or simply the Universe.
The Invitation ~ by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.
I sat in the rickshaw, trying to think of anything cool, sweating profusely in the mid-afternoon heat of Southern India. Jim was in yet another seedy hotel, searching for an acceptable room, a dismal possibility, even according to Lonely Planet. As usual, my job was to wait with the bags and the tuk-tuk, rickshaw, taxi…. whatever our current form of transportation entailed. It had been one hell of a day, beginning with us arriving late for our water taxi, being forced to run along the banks of the river with our full packs, and leaping aboard as it pulled away from shore. After a 4-hour journey through the back canals of Kerala, we arrived in a no-name town, our stop for the night en-route to get to Kumily. And it was hot. Like 98 and humid hot.
I could feel the sun beating down, in spite of the protection the sunshade above offered. May flies danced on the water as Aspen napped on my feet and Porter fretted over a passing beetle. It was a day filled with good food, perfect weather, long walks, and a marvelous swim in the lake. The hammock beckoned for pure camping perfection.
Two years from today I did our first blog post. At the time I was completely unsure if anyone would read it. For a long time, it seemed no one did. No, not even our family. In fact, to this day, although we have had over 35,000 visitors in all 50 states and over 20 countries worldwide, I can assure you that the majority of our close friends and family have no idea what I spend so much time writing about.
Two young kids, longing for adventure, meet up in an abandoned house, the lone members of the “Spirit of Adventure” club. They grow up, marry, and dream of traveling to Paradise Falls in South America. But, reality intervenes, and each time their savings jar is filling, a problem occurs, a broken down car, a hospital visit, you know, adult stuff.
We are not shy about proclaiming our great love for off-season camping. Nearly empty campgrounds and open beaches bring a smile to our face and joy to our heart. Add in a full moon, mid-50’s temps and no rain (in Oregon in January!) and we were in. For the first time in nearly two years we were joined by Jim’s sister Wendy, her husband and Jim’s best friend, Ken, and their two furbabies, Jenny and Lexi. Ken had recently returned from his second deployment in two years and also included a few of people in his unit, who joined in with their families.
To be more accurate, my enemy of late is named the lack of time. Recently I wrote about finding balance and was starting to feel I was on the right track. Then Jim and I both got sick AGAIN, as in for the fifth time since early November. We spent the days after Christmas coughing constantly, sore all over, and simply done in and worn out. Jim’s serious cold turned into pneumonia and I became his caretaker while still feeling lousy myself. We started 2014 in pretty terrible shape.
Meester Jeem, Meester Jeem. Eat here, Eat here! Each night, the calls from the local restaurants followed us down the street. Wherever we travel, few can pronounce my name, but Jim seems to be universally understood. In post bombing Bali, tourists were scarce and the local businesses were in desperate shape.
