Musings on Travel and Life
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 …
This is the next post in a long trip in South America. For the previous post, click here. For the first post in the series, click here. I’ve rested in Puerto Natales for a week, reading and writing and chilling in a hostel. Now I’m recovered enough to hike again. But I’m not going back …
Six years ago, my friend died mountaineering. A person I’d shared food and hugs and life with was gone. I’ve been reflecting, in the weeks since the anniversary. I see the mountains we hiked and the cliffs we climbed, but the images are faded, like old photos weathered by sun. I hear some of …
Six years ago yesterday, a close friend of mine died mountaineering. I started writing to process this, and it’s one of the things that helped me heal. A few months after the death, I wrote a piece called Mountains Aren’t Spiritual, reflecting on here death. Here were the original words: For the first time, someone …