Blustery northwest winds and choppy seas buffeted the ferry while I crossed Cook Strait. The sea presaged the coming of a front. I leaned up against the rail to steady myself to take pictures and eventually had to give up using my cellphone's camera for fear it would blow out of my hand. Now I am on the South Island. What began first as a gentle rain born in distant Southern climes has changed into a downpour and is drenching the long dry summer's parched ground. The mountains, so abundantly covered and surrounded by pine and beech forests, are being thoroughly soaked. Shrouded in thick misting clouds, it is hard to tell that they even exist. The once brilliant sunny sky has turned a leaden gray. The weather is telling me there is no sense in continuing my journey. It would mean venturing through narrow gorges on slick windy highways and missing vistas of what is reputed to be some of the loveliest landscape in the country. Therefore, I have decided to spend several days in a little river town named Murcheson where I will pass time with reading, writing, and drawing.
It became clear to me that I needed a respite from traveling and to release tension built up by constantly making spontaneous decisions about where to go, where to sleep, what to eat, and a myriad of other choices. What better way to accomplish this unwinding than to allow imagination and fantasy to work in productive ways. So in the quiet of my room, hearing only the forming of puddles and the rhythm of my breathing, I begin. First though I must overcome distracting doubts and worry and reassure myself in a series of staccato-like thoughts that I'm alive, I'm doing okay, and I'll make it back home. I repeat this to myself. I'll be okay. I'm only a little lonely. I'll be okay, now Lee, Start writing!
I shut my eyes. I am a distant traveler recording thoughts. It is Fall 2013 or is it really now Spring for me? My journal is my blog. Each entry is like a buoy marking a spot in time, a moment preserved from the fate of being jettisoned into a sea of forgotten events. The posts are waypoints which I share with those that care. They show my course through life.
Everything is so blue! I can tell you're enjoying your writing. I hope you do find a chance to draw also. It should calm some of the angst. I'm really sorry it's raining so much. This is nice: "Each entry is like a buoy marking a spot in time, a moment preserved from the fate of being jettisoned into a sea of forgotten events."
ReplyDeleteI waited too long to comment tonight, and now I can't say what I would have said even an hour ago. I just checked out a discussion board I used to frequent, and discovered I lost a good friend two days ago, on March 15th. He was a Vietnam vet, a Marine combat vet. He was almost killed himself and spent months in a coma, but never lost his sense of humor or his humanity. All the regulars are completely devastated and feel like we've lost one of our best friends...because we have.
ReplyDeleteAgain, this is not what I would have posted. I thought you deserved an explanation.
Gorgeous scenery! But I can understand the loneliness. Keep writing and photographing and posting. You're on a fine journey and I enjoy all that you share with us.
ReplyDeleteHow can you say you needed respite from decision making when you had just spent 3 days being hosted, dined and taken to and around Wellington's beauty??? I'm sorry we and Wellington didn't fulfil your expectations.
ReplyDeleteI am not sure what the purpose of your blog is but I find your comments very negative on the whole. I think you should consider yourself very lucky that you are alive and well and have the means to travel far and wide around the world. If you had opened your mind and taken some notice of the advise given to you by those who have travelled the length and breadth of NZ you may have found your journey less lonely, less stressful and a more positive experience.
You may wonder what the purpose is of the above. I just want your readers to know that your blog writings are not typical of travellers to NZ that we have hosted and met around the world.
Safe return to Bend.
Lynette