“We’re sorry, but we’re not going to make it this weekend”. The words rang hollow as we prepared to head to the beach for a weekend of camping with friends. Barview Jetty was the destination to join our dear friends Ron and Dario. Our friends Dave and Anne decided they would come along. Next Dario’s childhood friend Sheila and her boyfriend Randy thought they would make the trip as well. But on Thursday afternoon, Ron let it be known that they would not be joining us.
I dream of travel. My nights are spent luxuriating on the beach in Mexico, eating my weight in SE Asian street noodles, being awoken long before dawn by the roar of an African lion. Sometimes my dreams aren’t quite as vivid, rather than memories of past journeys, they consist of the anticipation of what is to come. These days those dreams have a lot of llamas in them.
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.
Ahhh, Moab. That fabled adventure town in Utah. Traveling in the heat in late May with two black dogs, we longed to hike the famous red rock canyons, but knew we needed to find something that allowed for shade and water in this arid landscape. We found the perfect solution at Negro Bill Canyon.
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.
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Looking forward to Asia!
Cheers,
Jim & Rhonda
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.
