Last night I was going through my notebooks and found a half forgotten memoir of the early 2000’s. Just notes, a travel diary in my half legible longhand. But notes that have triggered a whole series of memories, thoughts and impressions.
Let me explain; whenever I travel I keep a journal. A record of daily doings and miles travelled by various means. A record of my impressions and feelings from the exhilaration of riding a motorcycle long distances, to the frustrations and tedium that is endemic to long haul air travel.
Don’t get me wrong, I love flying. But I need a window seat and a window to look out of to while away the hours between continents. To travel without seeing, to me, is no fun at all. And the view from over thirty thousand feet plus is amazing. From incredible vista’s over the Rockies, Baffin Island, Greenland and seas across the globe to faintly discerning the curvature of the earth. And it is amazing how little of it humanity occupies.
I like road trips too, but hate being a passenger for more than two hours at a stretch, especially when scooting through places like the midwest of Canada and the USA. Because there’s plenty of scenery, but like the massive cathedrals of conifers in BC, the muskeg and forests of Northern Ontario, or the horizon spanning prairies of Kansas and Alberta, it can get a bit samey. That time in the drivers seat is a drug that I crave above all things. It goes without saying that I am firmly against any farcical invented crisis that puts any limit on my eternal wanderlust, be that ‘climate’ or massively over hyped infection.
From the scribblings I have re-read after over twenty years (?!) my need for constant motion still affects me. Despite the fact that I now have a nice house, large garden, two meadows, great neighbours, and superb views of the Irish countryside (and no other house visible from my office window). My own personal rainbow haunted idyll, yet one that reminds me that there is work to be done before the next road trip. Before my next travel ‘fix’.
Of course this has all come at some personal cost. Sacrifices and compromises have had to be made, and certain of my ambitions sidelined. However, the future has been set in motion, and the machinations of a few WEF cultists will not get in the way, at least not for long. When you travel, you get used to dealing with officialdom and ways of circumventing it’s worst aspects.
The future is out there. Wherever it leads, it should be interesting. At least to me, if no-one else. It goes without saying that some of my misadventures, both past and present, are and will be documented on this blog, for as long as it, and the urge to write, lasts.
Watch this space.
The Bill Sticker Alternative 