Musings on Travel and Life
It’s been over a week since the ferry, when the kind stranger fed me until I almost burst from smiling. Since then I’ve been up and down. I’ve pranced in the sun, and I’ve staggered into walls of rain. I’ve eaten good food, and I’ve crammed rations into my throat. I’ve woken near beautiful rivers, …
I’ve walked most the day. The shelter that rescued me last night is over a marathon behind me. It’s been a damp, humid marathon, always plowing into a stiff, stubborn wind. Dense, sensual clouds have blocked the mountains from view, but I know they’re nearby. I can feel them in the wind that never stops; …
I’ve stayed in the hostel at Villa O Higgens for three days. It’s a bittersweet feeling the fourth morning, tightening the straps of my backpack. I’ve met some amazing people, and we’ve bonded closely in a short time. Part of me doesn’t want to leave. But part of me is excited to start. I’m feeling …
It’s been a couple of days since the rain, and it’s been three weeks since my shin flared up and forced me to stop walking North. There’s no injury anymore, or none that I can feel. And the rest of my body is strong too, refreshed by weeks of steak and wine and day-hikes without …
I’m staggering into the wind. It’s wrestling me back from the summit like an animal defending its territory, pushing and feinting and easing and pouncing back stronger. The ground is a barren field of rock, with nowhere to hide from the air forcing the faintest gaps in my clothes. The harshest blasts make my eyes …