Ben and I have now been in my home state, Western Australia, for 3 weeks of our 4-week visit. The time has gone quickly, but we have crammed in a lot of time with family and friends, and have celebrated both of my parent’s 70th birthdays.
As we are over the hump of our time here and are winding down, I wanted to ‘take stock’.
Making: memories. Being with family and dear friends fuels my soul. Having Ben here with me, watching him being part of my family, makes me beyond happy.
Cooking: with produce from the garden. What a treat to stay at the farm, where my mum, aunty and uncle live, and pick figs off the tree for a delicious fig compote. Or, to trawl my dad and step-mum’s garden for fresh herbs and veggies to make a vegetarian pasta sauce.
We also stopped at the incredible Bunbury Farmers’ Market where we stocked up on corn, melon, and kale to share with the family. I couldn’t get over how beautiful the arrays of produce were.
Drinking: WINE! My uncle put down a Methuselah of his Shiraz 10 years ago to gift to my dad for his 70th. We opened it over the weekend. Stunning. We’ve also been enjoying some of Western Australia’s incredible offerings.
Dad with his Methuselah of Shiraz Moombaki Tasting Room
Playing: KUBB! This is an outdoor game that is kind of like chess meets boules meets horseshoes. We’ve been playing matches for days. Ben, Dad and I hold the equal record for the highest number of KUBBs knocked over in a row (4).
Even the dogs take KUBB seriously
Reading: Outlander #7. Diana Gabaldon’s writing takes my breath away. Her storytelling is outdone only by her dexterity with prose. She both inspires and intimidates me as a writer. Both prompt me to work at my craft.
Next read: One of the many chicklit nooks I have lined up on my Kindle. It’s great to read within the genre I’m writing.
Deciding:Believe it or not, I am still deciding what clothes/stuff will make the cut to go to Bali in a week’s time. The rest with be gifted or shipped off to the next port of call.
Loving: Kangaroos and other assorted WA wildlife. I am never blasé about seeing kangaroos in the wild – they are magnificent animals. We’ve seen quite a few on our trip as most of our family live in rural or semi-rural settings. We’ve also seen a possum, a quenda, some bush rats, a baby dugite (snake), kookaburras, cockatoos, parakeets, wrens, and too many other birds to mention.
company on an early morning walkkookaburras are my fave
Watching: Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri. We watched it last night. It was a truly unique and excellent film. We also saw The Greatest Showman at the cinema, which was a lot of foot-tapping fun.
Wearing: a new dress I bought (oops!). I am supposed to have all my clothes for the next leg (Bali) sorted. i am also supposed to be economising, but I saw a gorgeous dress in a local boutique and it fit perfectly. Of course, I had to buy it. I’m wearing it in the pic with my Dad above.
Enjoying: I am LOVING writing book two, I Think I Met Someone. I’m about 10K words in (of about 100K) and it’s so much fun finding out what Sarah gets up to next.
Admiring: My family; they’re my village. Not only do I love my family, I like them and am fortunate to count them amongst my close friends. They are all incredible people, each with their own beauty. We’ve had a blast this past month.
Feeling: grateful, present, and excited. I am a fortunate person to have so much love around me and to soon be embarking on the next part of our adventure. I’m trying to soak up and live every moment – and I am doing a pretty good job of it.
With thanks to Ben Reierson for many of these pics, and to Pip Lincolne and Allison Tait for this fun idea. This meme also includes the following if you’d like to play along too:
Before Ben and I officially start our year’s sabbatical in a couple of days, we have taken a quick side trip to New Zealand, a place we have now been to four times together, and which holds a special place in our hearts.
Seven out of eight nights have been booked in Airbnbs, and here’s why we love them.
1. You get to meet interesting people
Every stay is a chance to meet someone new – sometimes a single, sometimes a couple, and even families. Last night we stayed just out of Dunedin with a father and son and their three pets. Sophie the dog made the stay especially fun; from the moment we arrived she decided we were her new best friends.
A couple of nights before we stayed with a lovely young couple who run a farm. Not only did we get to meet their pet goats and sheep – Scott can’t bear to slaughter them, so they get treated to chocolate chip cookies instead – but we had a lovely, unplanned meal with Scott and his partner. They had offered us free rein of their garden, and after harvesting a feast of fresh veggies, I sauteed them in olive oil. Delicious. Because it was a farm stay, we also had fresh eggs, bacon and homemade bread for brekkie. Divine.
2. You get to stay in places you may not be able to afford otherwise
Queenstown is up there among my favourite spots in the world for scenery, but accommodation can be very expensive. Airbnb makes it affordable. We stayed with (another) lovely couple in the studio apartment above their house. The views were phenomenal and our hosts had thought of pretty much everything we might need.
3. You get off the beaten track
Often, this is because you’re staying just out of town, somewhere you otherwise wouldn’t have seen, but it’s also because staying with locals can give you an insight into the area that the brochures can’t. Locals will be able to tell you the best places to get something to eat – often away from the crowds and with a local flare – the secret trails down to the water, the best places to see the sunset, or where to get a good local wine that’s not available in shops.
Our neighbourhood in Athens 2016
4. The unexpected and very pleasant surprises
Between us, we’ve stayed in Airbnbs in the US and Australia, as well as Athens, Barcelona, Bath, New Zealand, Tuscany (in a castle!), Cape Town and Amsterdam. We’ve had a lot of wonderful, unexpected experiences because we opted for Airbnb rather than a hotel.
When we stayed in Napa Valley in 2014, it turned out that our host was a private chef. He invited us to join a degustation dinner he was cooking for friends the first night we were staying – and his friends were all Napa wine makers. The meal, the wine, and the company were all amazing – and we were invited to attend a vintage release party the next day as special guests.
While travelling with my 5-year-old nephew and his parents in 2016, we arrived at a 700 year old castle in the town of Montespertoli (Tuscany) several hours late. For some reason, we hadn’t anticipated that collecting a pre-paid rental a car would take 3 hours. Our hostess took pity on us, weary, hungry travellers, as we had arrived in town between mealtimes and there was nowhere for us to get something to eat. She disappeared into a kitchen and came back with fresh bread, an array of cheeses, and sliced apple, and then poured us a selection of the castle’s wines to taste. The 5-year-old wasn’t the only one who was grateful (just cheese, bread and apple for him).
View from a Tuscan balcony
These sorts of special experiences don’t happen to us when we stay at hotels. Yes, we have had one or two odd, or not-so-awesome, experiences staying at Airbnbs, but on the whole, we prefer them to more traditional accommodation choices. More often than not, we’re delighted with our stays.
Over the past few weeks and months, Ben and I have been playing our own version of Shoot, Shag or Marry – only with our stuff. We have literally handled and considered every item we own and have asked ourselves, ‘take, chuck or store?’ That’s every darned thing.
When we originally talked about taking this sabbatical, we discussed options at two extremes of the continuum: either get rid of everything and start from scratch when (if) we return, or sublet our apartment fully-furnished.
We opted for something in the middle. We rented a 2m x 3m storage unit for a year, set a moving date and started playing our ‘fun’ new game.
Take
I am proud to say that I have pared back to 5 pairs of shoes – and that includes thongs (flip flops). Those who know me will understand the extent of this miracle. Let’s just say, I have just a touch of Carrie Bradshaw in me. So, what made the cut? Thongs, sneakers, trainers, Birkenstocks, and ballet flats.
I also packed a small pouch with what I call, ‘very useful things‘. These include a small chef’s knife, a stash of zip and twist ties, command hooks (with two-sided tape), a sewing kit, Blue-tac, a portable clothes line, and carabiners. As, I said, very useful things.
Add to the shoes and very useful things, Summer clothes, a collapsible backpack, my stack of technological rectangles (laptop, iPad, Kindle, phone) and chargers, enough underwear for a month, a small stash of my fave (but not expensive) jewelry, and toiletries, and I am good to go!
Chuck
While going through all the things we own, we made the easy decision to off-load the bedside lamps that I’ve never really liked, and the more difficult decision to sell our couch, which was cherry red and made to order. I loved that couch, but am pleased to say it went to a good home.
Much-loved couch
In the end, we sold off, gave away, donated and binned about 1/2 of what we owned.
Hard rubbish inherited an array of things including my desk, which broke into three pieces when we tried to move it, our well-used and somewhat abused BBQ, our bedside tables which were on their last legs, and every chipped or mismatched cup, plate, bowl, glass and teapot.
Discombobulated IKEA desk
We even managed to eat through the bulk of our pantry, fridge and freezer in the weeks leading up to the move, which resulted in weird meals, like Dim Sum with Greek salad. The rest was bagged up and taken to our friend’s house to fill (clog) up their pantry and freezer – thanks (sorry), guys!
Who else has 3 open packets of sesame seeds in their pantry?
Store
Deciding what to put into storage – or rather, what we would pay to store – was perhaps the hardest set of decisions, but we quickly discovered what I will call, ‘the second drawer factor’.
Every kitchen has a second drawer, thedrawer filled with random, often costly, utensils and useful kitchen things. Some are used daily, some rarely, but when you’re paying for storage, setting aside 1/3 of a small box for these items is a lot cheaper than replacing them when you next set up house. I’m talking about you, ice-cream scoop, pizza cutter and citrus reamer. The same goes for other small, useful household items and tools. They essentially cost next to nothing to store and a lot to replace all at once.
Clothes were a little trickier. I kept quite a few of my work clothes, mostly because I tend to buy items that don’t date and that I look after. They’ll be great for those 2019 job interviews. We also sent a box of Winter clothes, coats and boots to the UK for the last 1/3 of our trip which will be in cooler or cold weather.
Art, artifacts and memorabilia were a no-brainer. When we travel, we buy souvenirs – paintings, photographs, ceramics, books and such. We also each have a collection of childhood memorabilia. These things will make our new home feel like ours.
Anything else we had room for: When I commenced packing, I started with books. Books are easy to pack; they have uniformity and you can stack them. I was really proud of my first few boxes – so neat, so organised, so easy to label: ‘books’.
By the time I finished packing, my labels read like this: ‘iron/hair diffuser/decorative rock/greeting cards/board game/lamp/place-mats’. It became less about ‘like things together’ and more like a real-life game of packing Tetris. In the end, we had the room, so I started to be less stringent with the culling. If we liked it and if it still worked, it got packed.
Final trip to storage after living in a near-empty apartment for a few days
The (real) lesson
When you start to sort through your stuff, and when you do a complete audit of everything you own, you tend to realise that we exist everyday with far too much stuff. We are each about to travel for a year with only a suitcase, a carry-on and backpack or handbag. No doubt, we will continue to do some ‘chucking’ along the way.
Last time it was about details, drowning in them, to be more specific. While I am still up to my chin in the minutiae of departing the country for a year, I have found myself in another not-particularly-comfortable predicament: I’m surrounded by chaos.
Our usually orderly home is a study in disarray.
There are boxes – flat; assembled, but half-filled; filled and taped shut – both tucked into corners and boldly sitting in the middle of rooms. There are crates dotted about the apartment filled with random collections of things, like electrical tape, climbing gear, extension cords, and unframed posters. I have piles of things that I move from one location to another as we consolidate, pack, use up and slough off. Post-its flutter in the air conditioning with messages like ‘take to work’, ‘give to [insert friend’s name here]’, and ‘donate’.
We’ve done countless trips downstairs to give strangers our things, sometimes for cash and other times for free. Who knew someone could get so excited about a bedside table? We gifted our mattress to a friend and are now sleeping on side-by-side single mattresses on the floor. We have filled the clothing donation bin on the ground floor and have contributed several times to ‘hard rubbish’.
Every day we move the chaos about in an attempt to make it smaller, and to give it order, shape and purpose.
My inner perfectionist is either on high alert, causing me to appease her with increasingly advanced lists, or she’s slacking off, beginning to ignore the chaos, at times embracing it.
And, maybe she’s right.
Maybe the chaos is a beautiful part of this journey, there to juxtapose against the simplicity of living a year aboard with a suitcase and a laptop.
“Let’s trade a year of our retirement for 2018,” said Ben. We’d been toying with the idea for years, but he was giving it a time-frame, making it concrete. Initially, my stomach clenched at the thought, but I took a deep breath and said yes.
Ben and I have long described ourselves as ‘location-agnostic’, but in the truest sense of that term, we won’t really be location-agnostic until 2018. Up until now, it has meant that with no children and no mortgage, our lives are relatively portable. Yes, we will always have the hoops of immigration laws to jump through – he is American and I’m an Australian with a soon-to-be-much-less-useful British passport – but we have already lived together on two continents, and next year we’ll add two more.
What is the plan? In 2018, we will travel to several destinations where we will stay for 1-3 months, unpack, live like locals as much as possible, and essentially be location-agnostic. First stop, mother nature permitting, is Bali. We will be staying at ROAM, a co-living space designed for digital nomads – another moniker we’ll be trying on for size.
After a couple of months in Bali (a once-renewed visitor’s visa gives us a maximum of 60 days in Indonesia), we will head to the US and Canada. I get 90 days in the US, including any hops out and back in to Mexico or Canada, so we will spend a few weeks visiting family and friends, and then a significant amount of time living by the lake at the family’s cabin. After the US is England, with travel to Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. And we’ll likely finish out the year with a few months in Portugal, or somewhere equally beautiful and affordable in Europe.
What will we be doing? We both have some contract work lined up, mine in writing and editing, and Ben’s in mobile app development, but the aim is to make time each day and week to immerse ourselves in our surroundings, to go, see, do and experience. Importantly, I will write for myself – first the sequel to the novel I just published and then other ideas that have been percolating for (it seems like) eons. And of course, there are the people – people we know and love who are scattered all over the world, and the people we haven’t met yet, ex-pats like us, friends of friends, locals. We’ll take photos and write, and share our year. We’ll embrace opportunities as they arise, promising ourselves to say yes more than we say no.
Why are we doing this? The simplest response – which is both contemplative and realistic – is that ‘life is short’. The more complex response involves the label we have long self-identified with. Will we actually want to live a location-agnostic life long-term? Are we going to retire in 10 years, sell off our possessions, and flit about the world being ‘homeless’? Can ‘home’ really be wherever we lay our respective hats and/or suitcases?
We will see.
How are we preparing? With lots of research, lists, and spreadsheets. Between us, we are figuring out what to store and what to sell, what phones we will use, what insurance we should buy, how we can maximise our collective frequent flier points on 6 airlines and across 4 continents, who is prepared to put up with us for a night or 3 or 8, and other fun logistics. We’ll be frugal when we can, so we can go, see, do, and experience as much as possible. We’re teeing up contract work, and making professional connections. We’re buying lightweight travel versions of things. We’re only packing clothes that go with everything else we’re packing. We’re shipping winter clothes and boots to England. We’re busy!
What do we hope for? I will only speak for myself here. I am hoping that time will start to slow, that the creative juices will flow, that I will take (better) care of myself, that I will relish the time with Ben and other loved ones, that I will embark on new friendships, that I will embrace challenges and adventures, and that I will get less attached to things and routines.
Our accommodation the first night of our weekend was with a lovely lady called Barbara at her B&B in Port Angeles, Ocean Crest. We arrived just before dinner and she showed us to our room. It was very comfortable, had its own bathroom, and just next door was a little sitting room for us. Barbara was thrilled to hear an Australian accent, as her beau is keen to take her to Australia next year and she was full of questions.
She took us through our dining options for the evening, and made reference to ‘Twilight’ several times. I then noticed the Twilight paraphernalia featured on a bookcase. Apparently, there is a book out there called Twilight, and quite a few people have read it, and many of those people come to the Olympic Peninsula to see where Bella (the heroine) and her vampire lover, Edward ‘live’.
The story is set in Forks, Washington, and we were 60 miles away, but that didn’t mean that the Twilight business is not thriving in Port Angeles too. It was our first taste of how far reaching this phenomena is.
We opted not to go to ‘Bella Italian’ – a favorite amongst Twilight devotees, but instead chose a seafood restaurant on the water. It was a good pick and I had Dungeness crabcakes (Dungeness is just up the road from Port Angeles) and Ben tried razor clams. Both were delicious, especially the unusual razor clam, which is large and meaty and quite a bit sweeter than crab. After dinner we discovered a cozy wine bar, and sat down to taste some California reds. We would have stayed longer, but one of us would have had to play ‘skipper’ and it is just no fun watching your love drink lovely wine while you sip water.
Barbara, a pro in the B&B business for eleven years, not surprisingly made a fabulous breakfast the next morning. While we enjoyed pancakes, eggs and bacon, we heard more of her story – recently divorced, but seemingly happy – and about her son who runs a resort out near Forks – yes, the Forks of the novel, Twilight.
We kept a close eye on the weather through breakfast. That morning we were supposed to be going kayaking on Freshwater Bay. However, I awoke to a very stiff and sore shoulder, so Ben was going it alone. Even though check out time was 11am, Barbara had generously offered for me to stay on and ‘chill out’ until Ben got back around 1pm.
As I ate, I looked out at dark clouds and incessant rain, and a niggling thought popped into my head: ‘It’s still officially summer’. I pushed aside the disheartening thought about the demise of my favorite season. I needn’t be selfish, as I wasn’t the one who would get very wet. Luckily when I called the kayaking place to cancel, they said they only had the two of us booked, and it was probably best to call it off all together. Ben seemed very happy about that.
Instead, we decided to go wine tasting. (Hooray!) We said a fond farewell to Barbara, and as we drove out of the driveway saw this little lady:
Doe a deer...
We then went to Camaraderie Cellars and Harbinger Winery. Both had some lovely wines, which were presented by lovely people. We killed a couple of hours, and made some dents in the plastic, but you have to when you taste good wine that you can only get at the cellar door. Wine tasting at cellar doors is a ‘regret-less endeavor’ only if you buy what you like when you’re there.
We were a chatty pair as we drove again past Lake Crescent, and on towards Forks. We would stay that night at Manitou Lodge, which sits nestled in the coastal rain forest, just west of Forks. A couple of hours before check in, we pulled up outside Three Rivers Resort and Cafe, also just west of Forks. We knew that the cafe (owned by Barbara’s son) had its own ‘vampire menu’, but it was at this time that the whole ‘Twilight’ obsession started to hit home.
Inside the cafe is this sign:
Treaty line
which I am sure people thought I was photographing because I am a fan. I’m not; all I know is that the books – and now a film – exist.
We later learned that next weekend is a huge celebration in Forks to mark Bella’s fictional birthday. Her birthday part is being held in a church, because, as you all know, vampires can’t go into churches.
It is an intriguing pursuit, this whole Twilight obsession. It has me more than a little curious, so I have asked Ben to put the film on our Netflix cue. I am not too keen to read the book, but I will check out the film. At least we can say ‘We’ve been there”. We ate our burgers – which were terrific – and played two games of Yahtzee, both of which Ben won – but only just.
After lunch and a short drive we were at the coast at LaPush, Washington. It was spectacularly beautiful, but the most inhospitable I have ever seen the Pacific.
A storm was raging, waves crashed and the whole scene was of gray debris.
The town itself was not beautiful, rather a lonely, decrepit town I can imagine is only visited because of the views from it shores.
It was time to go to our accommodation, so we headed away from the coast and deeper into the forest. Manitou Lodge is the sort of place that actually looks like its name. It is big and rustic, with stone and timber walls. On entry we were faced with a giant staircase and a grand room with a long dining table, four leather couches and bookshelves lined with old books and games.
It is a place that could be either the scene of a horror movie, or the backdrop for a mini adventure. I was hoping for the latter. We were shown to our room, the Lady of Guadalupe:
Both of us were keen for some indoor R&R, because the rain outside was unrelenting. After I nested for a few minutes, much to Ben’s amusement, I chose to have a hot bath, and he chose to read about Seattle a hundred years ago. Both of us enjoyed these solitary pursuits, and then we came back together, and headed downstairs to see what we could see.
We scoured the bookshelves for games or interesting books, all while maintaining our library voices. There were 4 other people in the grand room, and all were reading, so we whispered. We then hit the jackpot with a 600 piece Star Trek puzzle.
I looked at Ben as though asking, ‘Are you game?’ and he looked at me as though replying, “Okay.” We cleared some space on the table top, and began our task. Five hours, one and a half bottles of wine, two cheese croissants, and a bag of popcorn later we called it a night.
There were many pieces missing – we guessed about 50 – and it was too dark in the grand room to discern between dark blue and black, so we left a few patches unfinished, but overall it was a hugely successful and fun endeavor. Whenever either of us found the place for a tricky black piece with a sliver of color on the side, we earned a ‘well done’ and a kiss from the other.
We grew new-found respect and appreciation for just how clever the other is (keep in mind that we already had heaps of both, so this is saying a lot). The hours flew by. I can highly recommend puzzling as a good bonding experience for couples who are rained in on an adventure holiday.
This is how we left the puzzle for anyone keen to finish it:
Puzzled
The rain was still with us the next morning as we bid farewell to Vampire Country. We had survived!
We were driving the long way home, south, then east, then north up into Seattle. It would take about 4 hours if we didn’t stop, but of course, we wanted to stop. We chose Ruby Beach. It was a fluke, because there are a dozen places to stop and see the ocean on the drive, but we’re both glad we got to see this:
And these examples of natural graffiti art:
We ‘souvenired’ some of these pebbles, and they now sit proudly in our home. My favorite is the perfectly round stone Ben found. It is 6 inches across and now sits next to the television. I should also mention that we got very wet on this excursion. We both had waterproof jackets, but the rain and wind were in full force – it was wild and woolly – and we spent the next hour of driving, drying off. (Well worth it though!)
The rest of our drive went by quickly, although we did realize about 2 hours down the road that I had left my perfect pillow in the Lady of Guadalupe (they’re sending it to me). Lunch was breakfast at Denny’s. It is kind of a cheesy place to stop, but is always clean, and the breakfast is great. Good ol’ Denny’s didn’t disappoint, and gave us the energy we needed to get home.
We packed a lot in, but as I said before, the success of the weekend was as much about what we skipped as what we saw. Wine tasting is a much better way to spend a rainy day than kayaking.
As always, thank you to my darling Ben. He is the best travel companion (and life’s companion) this girl could ever hope for.
And the boys want to know where we’re all going next…
What makes a perfect weekend? What are the essential elements that must come together to create a weekend of ‘Kismet’?
Well, this past Labor Day long weekend we discovered that the perfect weekend can be as much about what is omitted as what is included.
The night before our departure I suffered a night of insomnia. They come up from time to time, and usually at inopportune moments like this one. I awoke to a rainy morning, an achy neck, a recurrence of a niggling sore throat I have been fighting for weeks, and a bad mood.
Ben was a trooper. I was a trooper. We managed our morning like seasoned travelers and were showered, fed and packed without too many snippy words. We loaded the car in the rain, and made the early ferry (7:55am) with several minutes to spare. We would ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge Island, then drive across the island and over a bridge onto the Olympic Peninsula.
The boys were excited.
Anticipation
I wanted either coffee or sleep. I opted for sleep and soon discovered that the fully reclined passenger seat of Ben’s car combined with my awesome pillow (which I take with me everywhere) is the PERFECT way to travel long distances. I was out like a light.
When I emerged from my coma, we were in Port Townsend, a pretty town on the north-eastern tip of the peninsula. My friend, Todd, had tipped us off that it is was a great spot, so we detoured off course to fit it in.
Driving in we saw this:
Oops
The weather in Port Townsend was what my dad would call ‘wild and woolly’. [It is an expression I have grown up with, so I know that it means ‘really windy and a lot wet’, but now that I have written it into this post, I am wondering how the ‘woolly’ part comes into play.] It had stranded these two boats on the shoreline, and when we got out of the car, it threatened to blow us out straight back of town.
We opted for a safe haven in the form of the nearest coffee shop, where we drank tea, and ate American-style scones. Ben asked for soy milk, but we were informed that they didn’t use soy milk, because it is VERY bad for you. Sure. Okay. Whatever you say.
After tea Ben suggested we walk through the town a bit. For me the day was only just coming in to focus, so I said yes, despite the weather. I needed to wake up fully.
In Port Townsend
We discovered some gorgeous architecture that has been lovingly restored, and many galleries. I bought a few little trinkets – gifts mostly – including a giant sand dollar from the curio shop. It now sits with our African Goddess and our Indian Elephant – three continents represented in one corner of our living room. The people we met were lovely and chatty, and I know this is a place I would like to go back to sometime soon.
Moving on from the windy town, we made our way south and then west towards Port Angeles. We would be staying at a B&B there later in the day, but it wasn’t even lunch time yet, so we pressed on towards the Sol Duc Hot Springs.
Lunch was an impromptu stop at Granny’s Cafe, an old school diner on the main highway.
Catsup and Creamer
I believe it is solely for this reason that people stop there to eat, and has nothing to do with Granny, the food, or the collections of ‘things’ that fill every horizontal surface.
Intriguing
Moooo
The food was, at best, passable.
Fed, we hopped back in the car, still on course for Sol Duc Springs, and took a detour to Lake Crescent, where we saw our first glimpse of sun that day.
Driving to Lake Crescent
The Lake is in the Olympic National Park, but holiday homes pepper its shore. From one angle I could have sworn I saw how it must be at the height of summer, even though the true temperature was closer to 58F (15C).
Lake Crescent
As we left, the rain came again. After winding around the south side of the lake – a beautiful drive – we turned off the highway and into the central part of the national forest. We overshot the hot springs and drove instead to a trail head for, among other destinations, Sol Duc Falls. It was only sprinkling lightly, but had clearly rained heavily at some point, because the trails were dense with mud.
Just as I pointed out a beetle for Ben to avoid stepping on, there was a sharp pain in my hand. I quickly pulled off my glove, thinking that maybe a spider had nestled in there over the summer, but no. A yellow jacket hornet had stung me through my glove and it hurt like hell. A quick detour back to the car to dress my wound, and we retraced our steps back towards the falls. We were rewarded for our efforts – and my pain – with this spectacular sight.
Ben at Sol Duc Falls
And looking further down river:
So lush
We made our way back to the car while I watched carefully for attack hornets. Back at the car we met a lovely group of middle aged people who had been stranded by a dead car battery. Fortuitously for them we happened to be parked right next to them, and could give them a jump start. “Thank goodness,” said one of the women. “We were so worried that the people on either side of us were off trekking for days on end.” She had no way of knowing that trekking for days in the rain is my closest idea to hell, but we all agreed that our car’s proximity to theirs was ‘great luck indeed’. Sometimes you meet the nicest people.
Feeling good about our small act of kindness, we drove a short distance, grabbed our swimsuits and paid admission to the Sol Duc Springs Resort.
I kind of knew when I saw first the ‘hot springs’ – essentially giant hot tubs stuffed with tourists and their splashing children – and then the filthy change rooms, that it would be a short visit. I was disappointed for many reasons. Mostly, I had looked forward to the hot springs because my neck, shoulders and upper back had been chronically sore for days. It was becoming hard to sit, sleep, stand and move – which pretty much didn’t leave much time when it didn’t hurt.
I had also been to the hot springs in Aguas Calientes, Peru, which were beautiful, exceptionally clean, and set into the side of a mountain, so my expectations for the Sol Duc Springs were high.
The stench of sulfur did nothing to ease my aches, and I wished it was a better experience all around – especially for Ben, who was experiencing a hot springs for the first time. I stayed in as long as I could, but when I saw the 30th strand of hair float by, and then a band-aid, I got out, quickly showered and dressed. Ben was not too far behind me. Before leaving I filled in a comment card, and as this post goes to press, I received a lovely email from the management apologizing for the state of the facilities and offering a free pass for us both on our next visit. Hmm. Thanks, but we’ll think about it.
It was time to head to our accommodation for the night and I looked forward to getting clean and dry and out of the outdoors. Sometimes, Adventure Chick. Sometimes, Princess. Princess was ready for a bath!
I am not a good traveler. There it is: the truth. In my head I could win the Amazing Race. In reality, the first time we (my imaginary race partner and I) missed a plane I would shed hot, frustrated tears and settle into a pissy mood that would last the whole episode.
Last Sunday I missed my flight to Vegas.
It was not my fault, but a comedy of errors performed by United Airlines. We spent two hours on the tarmac before takeoff from Seattle en route to San Francisco. Then in SF, where at least a third of the plane was connecting to other flights, they told us the wrong gate for the Vegas flight. It was 75 (right next door to the gate where we landed), not 79 (on the other side of the terminal – and a long run with hand luggage).
By the time I realized the airline’s error, I had missed the Vegas flight. When I was informed that I could squeeze onto the next flight, which was in four hours, I was less than delighted. Four hours when you’re flying from Seattle to Vegas is longer than a direct flight takes. Irony tastes even more bitter when you’re faced with airport food rather than a meal cooked by your mother.
I asked for a meal voucher to make up for being inconvenienced. “I wish I could help you, but our airline stopped issuing meal vouchers for delayed passengers last year. Sorry.” I believed that he was sorry, and then I did what any sane and reasonable adult person would do. I cursed under my breath, and then I cried hot, frustrated tears.
As I walked away from the service counter, I wondered how in the hell I was going to fill four hours in stupid, boring , horrible San Francisco airport (to be fair, I would have thought that about any airport under the circumstances). I continued to curse to no one in particular, because cursing is my pressure valve. There are times when it is the only way for me to regain my equilibrium. I may have looked like a crazy woman wandering the airport muttering to myself with an angry look on my face, but it was not long until the cursing did its job and I felt better.
I fixed my face, bought some more magazines, and braved the airport food court for dinner.
That killed a whole hour.
Skipping ahead to the return flight: different airline, on time, seated in an exit row. Feeling good about getting home to Seattle. Two new magazines to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be turning off the cabin lights for take off and the duration of the flight. However, if you would like to continue reading, there is a light above your head.” No reading light. Broken.
The man next to me noticed my small predicament, and said he would turn his light on so I could see. He did, and then promptly broke it while trying to angle it towards me. “Oops,” he said as the light went out. “I suppose they don’t move.” It was a sweet gesture. I stopped the flight attendant and asked if they had a flashlight I could borrow. “Sorry, no.” I suppose they need those to be fully charged and working in case there is an emergency more pressing than my broken reading light.
I soon realized, however, that if I leaned all the way forward, resting my head on the seat in front of me, and angled the page towards the aisle, I could make out about a third of the text. It grew tiresome.
We landed early (Hooray). We waited forty minutes for our luggage (Boo!). And as I stood there at 10pm alongside a baggage carousel that remained stagnant, and looked around at other annoyed passengers, I started to question the whole, ‘I am a traveler’ thing.
This brings me back to my opening: I am not a good traveler. Actually, it is just that I hate flying. I have said this before, I know, but the hatred is starting to overshadow the excitement of going somewhere new. The whole flying thing is much better with Ben by my side. He is a great travel buddy. Mainly because he humors me when I behave like this.
But also because he is far more laid back about delays and little inconveniences. When we’re delayed and we’re together, we play Yahtzee or Peggle (the world’s greatest electronic pinball game). He keeps me grounded when we’re grounded.
So all of this begs the question: Am I a bad traveler, or is it just the transit that gets to me? Maybe I am just a bad ‘transiter’.
Once I get to where I am going, I am just as amenable to sleeping in a rustic cabin as a five star hotel. I will gladly climb, hike, swim and cycle my way around the wilderness. I happily drink with locals and share my table with strangers. I love to explore tiny curio shops, galleries and museums in tiny towns. I like to eat, try and experience new things. I equally appreciate the majesty of nature and architecture, and I am all about learning some of the native language.
Phew! I am still a traveler. I just don’t transit so well.
I stole this from Charlotte. Borrowed? Appropriated? Anyway…
What are your middle names?
Mine is Michelle, his is James. I have always preferred my middle name to my actual name, but because he calls me ‘Babe’ more than anything else, I don’t have to hear my actual name very often. James and Ben happen to be two of my favorite male names. His parents did good.
How long have you been together?
First date was 2 and a 1/2 years ago, but before we started living together two months ago, we had only spent about 3 months together in the whole 2 and a half years – the long distance thing. Still, it is a hell of away to forge a strong friendship – email and phone calls.
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
A week. On a boat. 24/7. So, in ‘social time’ (the hours you spend getting to know someone you meet socially, usually spread out over months), about 3 or 4 months.
Who asked who out?
We didn’t realize we were on a date until we were half way through it. It was our first outing together without the other 5 people on the boat, and we wandered through the town, up to the church, bought some Greek Delight and ended up at a bar. It then became a date. I even said, “We’re on a date,” because it wasn’t by design, and happily surprised us both.
How old are you?
I am 39 and he is 29. Both have Big-0 birthdays this year.
Which situation was hardest on you as a couple?
Being apart for the majority of the time we’ve known each other was hardest – especially the times just after parting.
Are you from the same home town?
Ben and I were raised a decade apart on opposites sides of the world. It is completely random that we met when and how we did, and that two people with such different upbringings would have a meeting of the minds.
Who is smarter?
Ben has a highly analytical mind, and watching him navigate complex computer processes blows my mind. On the flipside, I hold my own. I know some stuff about some stuff. I can form an intelligent opinion – oh, and would totally kick his butt in Trivial Pursuit if he would ever play – but that is less about intelligence and more about how my memory works.
Who is the most sensitive?
I am when it comes to letting things get me down – like my fruitless job hunt. I tend to take the knock- backs personally. He is when it comes to being right about stuff.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
I was treated to a special meal at a favorite restaurant just last week: Flying Fish, which I have blogged about I love it so much. We had the grappa brownie again.
Where is the furthest you have traveled together as a couple?
We met in Greece, which is the furthest point from our home towns of St Paul and Sydney that we have traveled (together), but have each traveled to the other’s home town in the past couple of years. Our planned trip to Italy later this year will likely be the furthest together (thus far).
Who has the craziest exes?
When we met we had both been single so long, this has never really some up or been an issue.
Who has the worst temper?
Um, him.
Who does the most cooking?
Me – happily. Living alone in Sydney I thought of dinner as a tin of tuna and some steamed vegies. Having someone to cook for – who is truly appreciative – has meant that I have enjoyed being in the kitchen of late.
Who is the most stubborn?
Him. Me. We lock horns sometimes.
Who hogs the bed most?
Me. I steal the covers. Which is weird because I never ended up with the doona on my side of the bed and on the floor when I slept alone. Hmmm.
Who does the laundry?
Me. I don’t mind. It smells a lot better than the garbage, which is Ben’s job.
Who’s better with the computer?
Um, him, I guess. Seriously, what I know about computers wouldn’t even fill his little finger. But I can cook! Did I mention that?
Who drives when you are together?
Mostly him. But I pick him up from work sometimes, so then it is me.
I never do this – post twice in one day – but the first of today’s posts I started last night, and I have just read something that compels me to write again.
Charlotte Otter is a South African woman living in Germany, and she write Charlotte’s Web, which is on my blogroll (check it out – she is lovely and clever). Charlotte, too, is a writer, and in a recent entry she posted a few paragraphs from her novel. Her heroine, Sanet, is a South African woman living in London. She feels displaced, as is understandable when not living in your home country, but there is more to her feeling than that.
Charlotte writes this about her heroine:
What is becoming clear to me is that if you are alienated from yourself, you are alienated from everything, and that will become the core of Sanet’s crisis: she will be offered the opportunity to be true to herself. The question is, will she take it up?
That is the statement that resonated so deeply with me.
Two years ago I was so completely unhappy in my own life. I had moments I enjoyed, I laughed enough that many people would not have really known this about me, but I felt like I was living someone else’s life. When you live that inauthentically, you cannot access any kind of inner peace. As a result, I discovered that I didn’t really like this person that I was. I isolated myself frequently, and not out of the need for ‘alone time’ that I have now, but to prevent others from having to put up with me. I became increasingly disagreeable, sullen, and felt a deep sense of loneliness – even when amongst friends.
I got to a point where I knew things had to change.
Then I went on a trip. A long trip. Across the world to two other continents. Greece-London-Peru and back home. The trip provided so many catalysts for change that my head was spinning by the time I got back home.
It literally changed my life.
I met people who loved life. I met Sheila and Deb and Geraldine.
Sheila is sixty-something, and gorgeous. I met her and her equally lovely twin Sharon, in Peru. Sheila has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, a love of adventure and am unwillingness to succumb to nay-saying. Sheila broke open my heart. She saw through the cracks and just stuck her hands in and pulled apart that hard casing. Then she encouraged me to pursue the impossible.
Deb, who I met with her husband Marty onboard the yacht in Greece, is smart, and career-minded. She knows what she wants and because of this, she has the life that she wants to live. She does all this with a broad smile and a hearty sense of fun. She and Marty have a sexy, joyful marriage. When I met them, I knew that it was entirely possible to have what I truly wanted.
Geraldine, our guide in Peru, is the most pure-hearted and kind person I have ever met. Her gentleness and kindness humbled me. When I was sicker than I have ever been before, she looked after me rather than visiting her own family, whom she hadn’t seen in months. Her selflessness made me want to stop being such a selfish, moody cow.
And then there was the cute American guy who stood on the dock of Tinos and said, “I want my life to be bigger.” I thought, ‘Me too’, and I wondered at that early moment in my big trip if I would have the courage to do anything about it.
I had no idea then that we would embark on parallel – and more frequently, converging – journeys that would bring those wants to fruition. And at that early moment in my big, life-changing trip, I had certainly had no idea that I could actually meet someone, a man, whose wants and dreams and goals would compliment mine, and challenge me to live that ‘bigger life’. I was, however, starting to see glimpses of my authentic self.
I met many others on my trips and visits and they all added something unique to my shift in perspective. Jaime and Paul, from Halifax, never want to miss an opportunity. Lara from Vancouver lives with such beautiful hope in her heart. Patrick from New Zealand and Liliane the Brazilian, crossed oceans and cultures to create a life together. And on that trip, I got to see my Little Sis in her natural habitat, London. (It is ‘home’ for her, even more so now that she is loved up.)
I had left home in want of something. Then I had gone around the world (literally), succumbed to illness twice, laughed until I couldn’t breathe, and cried as I said goodbye to new friends and my oldest friend, Vic. I saw lots, I did stuff, and I collected souvenirs from my travels, but the most important thing I brought home from that trip was my authentic self.
I made big changes after that, and some of those changes were painful because they involved breakups with people close to me. Mostly the changes were about shedding heavy burdens, such as obligation, fastidiousness, isolation, and a couple of unwanted kilos. I reconnected with those I had neglected, I moved house, I booked more trips and I took on more responsibility at work, all in the space of months. I took care with the new friendships I had forged, and apologised to those people who had endured my ‘funk’. I learned (again) to appreciate all that I had, especially the incredible people I call family and friends.
The tattoo of a butterfly adorning my lower stomach took on more meaning, as I emerged from my chrysalis and felt truly happy.
I still try to honour my authentic self. Big decisions, and even some small ones, are about the inner peace that comes along with serving that goal. Sure, I have had moments of doubt and sadness, and even fear. But never again will I let myself shelve what I truly want. I want to live a big life, and that’s what I am doing.
Sandy Barker | Author 
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