Why we travel

People travel for different reasons.  Our friends Salli and Jess (see the sidebar here), authors of the blog, "One Hundred Stories", have met the most interesting people of many cultures unfamiliar to me, people who have something to say and something to give.  Salli and Jess are absorbing experiences and life stories all over the globe.  We met Salli and Jess in Arequippa, Peru, while admiring the sunset on the three volcanos.  Stuart and I spent two days more than we had planned in Arequippa, after meeting them.
 
Our friends Bonnie and Mark are living in the USA wherever they stop for the night, with their travel trailer. They are seeing our country from the ground level, spending time getting to know an area and other travelers, before moving on, enjoying geography and people and culture. When Bonnie sat on our porch in Wilmington a few years ago, drinks in our hands, and told us they were hitting the road, we cheered.

Our friends Sharon and Bob love the cruise life.  They have the convenience of staying in the same "hotel" every night, and seeing new and exciting things every day.  And, someone to cook delicious meals everynight.  Doug just took a solo trip down the ICW from northern VA to southern NC, in a small sailboat (one that took us on a very unexpected summer thunder storm trip in the Neuse River a few summers back!), aquainting himself with the small creeks, and joys of an old, small motor.  Jo Ann and Tom just returned to the Pacific NW from a month in an apartment in Paris, learning about art, people and food. 

Mike, a new friend from St. Andrews, NB, travels as a commercial diver.  Stuart and I met Mike on the street, while we were biking in St. Andrews.  I was looking to buy a fish, in this fishing village, to cook for dinner, when I stopped him on the street to ask for advice.  He smiled, and told us we probably wouldn't be able to buy local fish, as it was all smoked and shipped out.  But, he asked, "where are you staying?".  I told him about our great campsite, and he knew the campground.  Later, he came by to give us a bag of scallops he'd collected while working.  He smiled, and drove off, without staying for a visit.  Later, when I asked around town about him, people just smiled and said he was typical of the locals.  Those were the sweetest scallops I've ever eaten!

I remember traveling down the Green River, in Desolation Canyon, Utah, in the summer of 1997.  Bruce Watkins, from Wilmington, NC, planned that trip, and invited 12 paddlers to join him.  He had entered a lottery to paddle the Green River, and won a coveted slot.  Stuart and I, and our friend Brent, met the group in Utah.  That afternoon, we drove several vehicles, several hours to the put-in spot, and unloaded the inflatables kayaks the gear and food and the kat-a-raft that would haul our gear and food.  Stuart and Brent hunkered down with scotch and snack foods, in tents, with the rest of our group, escaping the unbelievable mosquitoes.  I got behind the wheel of one car, and with 3 others, we drove vehicles back to Green River, to the take-out spot. We drove along a dirt road for a long time, under an almost full moon.  An unforgettable drive along the edge of the canyon. Bruce had arranged a small plane to ferry us back to the put-in point on the river the next morning, and after getting my last shower for a few days, the next morning early, we found ourselves at the small airstrip.  The pilot looked us over, and assigned us seats in the very small plane.  I sat in the tail, with a window squeezing each shoulder.  Lucky seat!  He handed each of us a headset, and during the hour-long flight, told us of interesting sights below.  We landed on a butte, and hiked an hour down to the river.  We hadn't even left yet, and it was already note worthy!

The overnight crew was battered from mosquitos and scotch, but had the kayaks ready to go when we arrived.  We spent the next seven days paddling down the Green River, negotiating rapids and rain, camping at high spots. We ate well, saw wildlife, and learned about wilderness and silence.  Sometimes, we'd camp just down river from a rapid, and for fun, we'd put on our lifejackets and ride the rapids without the kayak. Feet first.  Wheeee!  I'll never forget the canyon, the sun, the rapids, the meals, the nights under the stars, the conversations, the friends.  Bruce organized the trip with great skill and experience, and was a great leader.  He and Juddy Buddy, his then 12-year-old-son,  taught us great camping and paddling skills, and loved every minute.  So did I.  Bruce died last week, unexpectedly.  Thanks, Bruce, for teaching me about travel.  Thanks.