I'm askin' why

Home... again.

Broke... again.

Unemployed... again.

Re-entry shocked.. again.

It's never easy to come back. To re-enter this world; to become reacquainted with rules and responsibilities after months spent wandering freely (though not aimlessly!) amidst the beauty of our universe.

Going back to the start, attempting to rebuild all that was pushed aside in exchange for a taste of adventure.

Choosing the open road, an unknown ocean, the possibility of endless novelty instead of constant comfort.

It's a choice not everyone can understand.

I admit, it may seems strange.

Why leave comfort and security, why abandon everything you have worked for, why the constant desire to leave all of THIS behind just to chase the sunset?

"I just don't get the motivation to travel endlessly.

Or climb.

Or... whatever... it is.... you do" was the way one friend hesitatingly articulated their confusion to me.

"I just don't get why you DO it" he said, his eyes imploring me to explain.

For me, the answer is simple.

"I do it because it's what I love."

End of story.

So part of the point of going to South Africa and Madagascar was to discover the amazing rock that both these countries have to offer.

And let me tell you, it truly is amazing.

So for all those interested climbers out there, here's a bit of a summary of what we uncovered during our journey:

Climbing Madagascar

MADAGASCAR - Nosy Andatsara, Vallee des Perroquets, Tsaranoro

General Access: Madagascar has a very limited supply of those things called roads. So getting around is somewhat of a challenge. Options are: flying, renting a 4x4 (with driver...don't attempt to drive yourself around, you WILL die), taxi brousse (local public transportation...similar to a minivan crammed with 35 people for 36 hours). Any way you slice it, getting around is complicated in this country and also near-impossible to do independently. Solution? Give yourself ample time to visit this beautiful island nation.

Language: French (or Malagasy). If you don't speak French then you'd better learn fast.

Cost: around 40 euros per day. It's kind of expensive but worth it. See below for explanation

Important to consider: Madagascar is poor and isolated. This means certain commodities are impossible to find. So make sure you bring enough of everything climbing related to last you the duration of your stay (you can't find chalk here, let alone a replacement pair of shoes or a rope).

Comments: There are basically two main climbing spots in Madagascar. In the north, out of Diego Suarez, there's Nosy Andatsara and the Vallee des Perroquets. There's also the Montagne des Francais, but a lot of the sectors are closed and we didn't end up climbing here.

In the south, there's Tsaranoro. We didn't actually make it down there because it was going to be too hot. However we met a bunch of climbers coming from there, so the comments I've included here are based on information they gave me. Hence why there's not much information (sorry!)

Diego Suarez - (New Sea Roc Adventure Camp)

location: 1, 125km north of Antananarivo. Also known as 1.5 hours on the plane, or 22-25 hours in a rented 4x4, or 36-48 hours in a taxi brousse. Far.
accomodation: lots of little guesthouses and hotels all over Diego. no camping.

comments: this is the jumping off point for the climbing in the north. There are two main camps - Camp Corail in the islands near Nosy Hara, and the Vallee des Perroquets near Montagne des Francais. You have to go through New Sea Roc in order to access the climbing.

The reason that this is good is that New SeaRoc is making a huge effort to conserve the natural ecosystems where we climb. Which means limiting the amount of people who come to climb. Organized camps make this possible. Also in a place where the roads are non existent and supplies are not easy to come by, paying for someone else to be hauling all your water and feeding you and lodging you in sweet accomodation is kind of worth it.

From Diego you then move out to either of the following locations:

Nosy Andatsara
location: 2.5 hours in a 4x4 followed by about an hour in a fishing boat
accomodation: 3 options (all part of the package) - tents on the beach, thatched roof huts, or troglodyte rooms built into the rock.

type of climbing: sport and a few boulders
type of rock: limestone

comments:
Camp Corail is a slice of paradise. Private tropical island, clear aquamarine water, in the middle of a national park so the animals are protected (aka the most fish and sea life you have ever seen, as soon as you step into the water), and the max capacity of place is about 20 people. So no lineups, nothing but you and the rock and a bit of rum at night. The booze is part of the package.

2 islands to climb on, with a total of about 100 bolted routes ranging from 3a all the way up to 8b. Most of the climbs are in the moderate range - lots of 6's and 'low' 7s. Beautiful lines, most of which have a decent overhang to them. It's limestone, so huge pockets, toufas, stalactites...featured and fantastic.

You can sign up on for a three or a six day stay on the island, or multiple 3/6 day packages (we went back twice). National park means protected area, means limiting the amount of people who enter. NSR is allowed a total of 1000 units (1 unit = 1 person for 1 night) per year. Hence the restriction on your stay here. A shame because there are so many beautiful climbs to choose from....rest as little as possible in order to make the most of the climbing.

Vallee Des Perroquets

location: 1 hour outside of Diego Suarez

accomodation: tents or treehouses (literally!)

type of climbing: sport

type of rock: limestone

comments:

Due to it's proximity to Diego Suarez and the lack of quotas for visitors, this is a slightly more accessible camp. It remains an all inclusive deal - one fee gets you transportation, a LOT of food, water, rum and accommodation.

There is about a 20 minute approach to get to the crags - keep an eye out for butterflies, lemurs babobabs and other amazing wildlife on the way. Two crags to choose from: Perroquets Sector has some the longer easier climbs, while Bloc Age has the short (15m or less sometimes) routes of a higher grade. You can climb at Perroquets in the morning, Bloc Age all day. Bloc Age is essentially a big roof - you don't see overhangs like this very often.

There are other sectors in this area but at present they are closed for rebolting.

Everything in these sectors is OVERHANGING. Hella overhanging. But there are great holds everywhere you look (we love limestone), and the lines are beautiful.

Watch your bags here - my backpack was stolen (with all kinds of important stuff inside it...I'll spare you the details) at Perroquets Sector. Camp is safe though so just leave anything of value in your tent and you should be fine.

No maximum duration of stay here. Lots of sweet hikes/treks (what the heck is the difference between hiking and trekking anyways?!?) to do on a rest day. There is also the opportunity to do some volunteer work in the village nearby for those feeling generous.

Tsaranoro (note: all information below is second hand from people we met in the North)

location: southern Madagascar. Taxi brousse will take you a couple days to get down there from the capital. Anticipate the need for a rest day or two upon arrival (the journey is supposedly highly exhausting)

accomodation: Camp Catta - bungalows or tents. A package deal, somewhat like how NSR runs their camps.

type of climbing: bouldering, single pitch sport but mostly BIG walls (300 -1000m climbs)

type of rock: granite

comments:

As mentioned previously we didn't make it here. There is a good reason for this: in November it is freaking hot in Madagascar and all of the routes at Tsaranoro are in the sun all day. Plus it's at least a 45 minute approach, so you are generally waking up around 4:30 or 5:00 am in order to get to the rock and get at least one pitch in before the sun starts to hit you.

To us, this did not sound like a vacation. So we opted to stay in the north.

Those who visited informed us that some of the big wall stuff is super slabby as well - so your calves HURT by the time you get to the top. Allegedly one day of climbing earns you a minimum of two rest days to recover - spend rest days hanging out in the camp with the lemurs or enjoying some of the other outdoor adventure alternatives this camp offers (base jumping, anyone?)

To me, this place sounds hardcore...

Bottom line: Madagascar is an as yet relatively undiscovered area for climbing. The people are wonderful and the climbing is beautiful. It's a journey to get here, but that makes it all the more worth it when you finally arrive.

HAVE FUN!!!!

http://www.newsearoc.com

http://www.campcatta.com

Climbing South Africa

SOUTH AFRICA - Rocklands, Paarl, Outdshoorn, Amphitheatre, Waterval Boven

General Access: We rented a car to get around the country, and while not necessarily the cheapest option it's a great one if you're climbing cause you have the freedom to go to places that other forms of transportation (like the oh-so-overly-touristy Bazz Bus) won't give you access to. We used aroundaboutcars, but there are tons of car rental options at the major airports.

Language: English will get you what you need wherever you go.

Cost: more expensive than you would think. Rocklands was cheapest (30 rand a day for camping, aka 4 dollars). Everywhere else we were paying about 10-20 CAD per day for accomodation.

Specific Areas

Rocklands:

location: 2 hrs north/northeast of Cape Town.

accommodation: campsite

type of climbing: bouldering

type of rock: sandstone

comments: Boulders boulders boulders everywhere. The place is huge, so give yourself lots of time if you want to be projecting things. And the rock is SHARP, so bring tons of tape. And bouldering is f'ing hard, so don't make the mistake I did, and train before you arrive. There's not a lot of easy stuff here, if you want to really take advantage of the AMAZING bouldering, you need to be strong when you arrive.

There are topos available at the campsite, but others will be able to point you in the direction of each sector and then just look for the mad chalk marks everywhere.

You can rent crash pads at the campsite as well. they are kind of grungy, but do the trick just fine (consider though, that we were there in low season so pads were readily available. if you go in August when there are more people it might be harder to rent gear).

Bring warm clothes. It gets flipping cold at night.

Limited amount of chalk and other climbing gear available for purchase at the campsite.

Paarl

location: 1 hour east (i think?) of Cape Town

accomodation: backpackers/guesthouse in Cape Town

type of climbing: single & multipitch sport climbs

type of rock: granite

comments: we only spent one day in Paarl, in order to do a multipitch. Unable to get our hands on a topo of the area (the climbing gym in Cape Town didn't have any to sell to us), we arrived with a scrap of paper covered in scribbles that were meant to indicate the location of a good multipitch climb.

It took us about an hour to find the climb, after accidentally getting halfway up something WAY harder than what we were going for...oops.

In short, I recommend getting a guidebook if you can!

The rock is kind of weird here - super slabby granite. Feels like there are no holds a lot of the time, but the grip is great. Beautiful varied multipitch with a cool traverse in the middle. Sign the book at the top, and try not to get lost on your way back down the cliff!

Oudtshoorn

location: along the Garden Route, north of Mossel Bay (head towards Montague then go East to arrive at Oudtshoorn)

accomodation: camping on location...with a swimming pool! (don't know much more than this cause we just stayed for an afternoon...enough climbing for a few days at least, though)

type of climbing: single pitch sport

type of rock: limestone :)

comments: Welcome back to Tonsai! Overhangs, stalactites, big jugs...We felt strong here after our time in Rocklands, so the climbs were highly satisfying. Topos available upon arrival at the campsite entrance - there are three or four walls here, with a wide range of grades and some pretty fun lines. At least one wall is in the shade at all times of day. Bring a bit of cash, as you have to pay about 25 rand/person to gain access to the rock.

Kind of a trek to get there..make sure you get clear driving directions before heading out.

Amphitheatre

location: Northern Drakensburg, an hour away from Amphitheatre Backpacker's Lodge

accomodation: camping or rooms at Amphitheatre Backpackers (they have a bouldering cave at the lodge)

type of climbing: short sport routes (aka bolted boulders) and some multipitches (which we didn't do), trad

type of rock: basalt (I think...but don't quote me on this one)

comments: the windiest crags I have ever been to! apparently it's not usually like this, but the winds were definitely a-blowin' while we were there so didn't get to try much. Lots of potential though as this is a HUGE area - a mix of big walls with multipitches and scattered boulders which have been bolted. You have to walk a bit to get from one boulder to the next and sometimes the routes are hard to find. The multipitches looked promising, although some of the lines have been bolted in interesting ways...unnecessary rope drag in a few spots.

Waterval Boven

location: 3 hours east of Jo'burg just past Nelspruit

accomodation: Roc n' Rope has a lodge in the town of Boven, and there is also camping and a few rooms a bit closer to the crags (Tranquilitas)

type of climbing: SPORT. THE BEST SPORT CLIMBING IN SOUTH AFRICA!!! also a few trad climbs, but who cares about those...:)

type of rock: quartz

comments: Boven is incredible if you are a sport climber. Over 600 bolted routes, well equipped, and best of all...totally empty. NO line-ups, nobody but you. We were often the only ones at a wall for the entire day (even on the weekend), on beautiful long routes. Bring a 70m rope cause you will need it.

Zero jugs, this is crimpy climbing, so expect to get pumped (even the big holds are flat ledges...so forearms forearms forearms and footwork are the recipe for success here). Technical, varied climbing. Lots of slabs but also dihedrals, arretes, overhangs...whatever you're looking for. Trees and shade almost all day at most of the walls, and easy access to nearly every sector (although a car makes life easier, some sectors are still within a 30 minute walk of the lodge).

Spend a minimum of a week if you want to actually get anything done. Two or three would be better.

Roc n' Rope is run by Alex and Gustav (she's french, he's south african), and they are incredibly welcoming and generous. They have a well-equipped climbing shop, so you can stock up on essentials as well as get a new pair of climbing shoes if you want 'em. Currently the guidebook is out of stock but they have a few spare copies they lend out as well as print outs of all the brand-new routes that haven't been put into the guidebook yet.

If you are a sport climber, go to Boven!!!!!

These are just the areas that we went to. The beautiful thing about South Africa is that there is an insane amount of rock absolutely everywhere, and we missed a ton of it....so go explore!

www.climb.co.za

www.rocrope.com

http://www.climb.co.za/wiki/index.php/Main_Page

Deep Inside of....

A Parallel Universe.

That's what life feels like in a 250-soul strong village on the edge of the ocean, a two day walk from the nearest road, a 15km walk from your closest neighbours.

Living in thatched huts built on layers of compacted dust, waking up to the sounds of roosters crowing and children crying, eating whatever you were lucky enough to pull from the water that day.

A permanent salty-tinge to your flesh - for fresh water is not just a luxury but rather a nearly non-existent commodity, so forget the idea of a shower.

A new concept of beauty in a world without mirrors - clothed in brightly patterned pareos and bare feet, hair uncombed and flowing in the wind, no make up, no soap. Natural, normal, fresh and free.

A constant smile on your face - for who can frown in a world where the sun is always shining, the trees drip with mango and jackfruit, the fish are abundant and the jungle hugs you tightly on all sides.

A constant sorrow in your heart - for who can be truly happy in a place where dysentery is the primary medical concern and only 3 adults in the entire village are literate? Who can be satisfied in a corner of the universe known to and ignored by the government, rejected by the rich, where citizens are left to wallow in their poverty without ever a hope of overcoming it?

Without ever being able to conceive of a life in which everyone is healthy and hydrated, everyone can read and write, where every parent can demand something better for their children than they had for themselves.

A parallel universe.

----

----

Here in the village, the people wake up and go to work just like we do in Canada.

...only their job is to toil under a blazing sun in order to grow the rice that will feed their ever-expanding families.

Here in the family homes women become pregnant and deliver their children, just like we do in ours

....only here the birth happens on a dusty floor with a midwife and a scream, not in a pristine hospital with a doctor and a nurse and the safety of sterility.

Here in the heat of a sunday afternoon the children gather to play soccer on the school field, just as we did when we were kids.

...only their school is a two room bamboo hut with a chalkboard and two teachers for 100 students

Here people work, they live, they play, the learn.

They feel and smile and laugh.

Just like we do.

They are the same as us.

And yet they are totally different.

And every day when we wake up and turn on our coffee makers and our TVs, as we drive to work in our leather-interior SUVs, sit on a patio to have a beer with a friend, go to yoga, go climbing, go live our daily existences...as we do all of these things, here and now; on the other side of the world something completely and utterly different is all happening at the exact same time.

And it blows my mind.

This.

Is.

Africa.

A Day in Paradise:

It begins at sunrise.

The sound of waves lapping at the shoreline a few meters from your tent pulls you out of sleep and into a dream.

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, stretching out the muscles that still ache from yesterday's climb, you step out of the little grey tent to greet the warmth of another day in paradise.

White sand and bits of coral tickle the undersides of your feet.
A gentle breeze kisses your suntanned skin as you step into your bikini.

Five steps down the dunes and you plunge into the clear turquoise waters, warm even at this early hour of the day. You do a few strokes out towards the rocky islands that dot the horizon, then turn back to shore.

You slowly make your way to the one bungalow that stands on your secret island. A bungalow where piping hot coffee and toast with jam and nutella sits waiting for you.

Eat up.
You will need all the energy you can get for the big day that lies ahead.

Morning routine complete, stomach sufforcified, you head back to the tent and grab ropes, quick draws, shoes and harness.

Gear in tow, you move to the fishing boat that waits for you at the shoreline, its yellow and orange painted hull bobbing in the gentle Malagasy waves.

White birds of paradise dance overhead, and as the boat heads away from shore, you spot dolphins playing in the swell a few meters away.

After a morning of climbing on a sacred island where the former kings of Madagscar have been buried, the same citrus-hued comes to collect you and bring you back home lunch. Of course the food is ready and waiting when you arrive.

You eat.
Then you nap.
Then you wake up and snorkle around your home for about an hour. In this hour you spot a turtle, a giant purple octopus and about seventy five different varieties of tropical fish weaving in and out of the corals that spread out below you.

You step out of the water. Stand in the sun for about five minutes until your bathing suit is dry and the salt beings to itch your ever-darkening skin.

Grab the gear. Go climb some more routes.

When your arms and fingers can no longer take it, you go swimming again. Or read a book. Or play the guitar. Or talk to the other 6 climbers who share your paradise home. Or just do....nothing.

As the sun begins to set, you all gather together for a meal and a strong glass of rum and mango punch. Tonights dinner features a squid and five fish with an unpronouncable name. All were caught only a few hours earlier>.

Share a few laughs. Watch the sky change from deep blue to purple to black. Witness the rebirth of ten thousand southern hemisphere stars.

Wander back to the little grey tent.

Sleep.

Rinse.
Later.
Repeat.


Welcome to Nosy Andatsara.



Welcome to Paradise.

Struggling to Summarize

Hey kids.

How I have been neglecting you all! My sincerest apologies for the lack of correspondence. I assure you that it has not been intentional, but, as can be expected, the poorest continent in the world does not exactly include reliable internet connections.

The adventures have been many, but tragically the opportunities to share them with you all have been limited.

So instead of giving you the tidbits as they were lived, I will attempt to summarize the incredible journey through South Africa that I have just experienced.

True Beauty South Africa.

That's what they call it.

And 'they' are entirely correct. It IS.

Truly.

Beautiful.

After two weeks of climbing in Rocklands, we took to the road, with the goal of driving along the coast for a while, then up into the Drakensburg Mountains to finally end up in the infamous gated city of Johannesbourg.

Every turn brought with it a new landscape, new colours, new shapes, new thoughts and shaken ideas of the way this world spins.

South Africa is nothing if it is not diverse. I have never before experienced such rapid changes - literally turning a corner to be transported from the lush forests that inspired Tolken's Lord Of The Rings into the arid yellow savanah that I had always pictured when I thought of Africa. Moving from the rich European-style cities of the Garden Route to the thatched roofs and traditional mud huts inhabited by the Zulus of Kwazulu-Natal. Afrikaans and English replaced by the impossible-to-imitate clicks and clucks of the Khosa language. White faces gradually completely replaced by black ones. And layered over all the changes, the one constant feeling that this is a country I will never understand and never feel completely comfortable in.

Climbing and driving your way through a country allows you to observe the movements of a people with a sense of detachment - while South Africa is arguably one of the countries that I have seen the most of (in terms of kilometers) it will also remain one that I have seen the least of (in terms of interactions with the people).

Maybe its because every house has a gate and an alarm, and every guesthouse requires six keys before you can access your room. Maybe its because we never spent enough time in one place to really get to KNOW people. Maybe its because most of my observations of this country wer from behind a windsheild with the aircon blowing and an iPod playing favourite songs on the car stereo. Maybe its because the culture of fear inherent in the words 'South Africa' have a tendency to stop exploration in its tracks.

Whatever the reasons, the result is the same: South Africa remains a mystery to me. Its people did not welcome us with stories and smiles, I did not wander the streets to find untouched gems nestled in alleyways. I could never really understand when people explained the ways in which race presides over rationality here.

I could never really get a sense that I had actually BEEN in South Africa, the way I have been in some of the other worlds I have visited.

So would I recommend this country to another interpid traveller?

Yes. Most definitely Yes.

It's a world worth witnessing, it has a thousand layers worth trying to unravel. Emphasis on the word 'try'...

And perhaps when you come here, you will be able to dig a bit deeper than I did...find out what South Africa is really all about:::and then tell me what I missed.

And if not, we can always just have a chat about all the beautiful things that we saw here. All the majesty and mystery that exists in this True Beauty South Africa.

Next stop: Madagascar!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Rainbow Nation

political correctness disclaimer: I write this post having spent only two days in Cape Town after two weeks of camping in the north of the country. I do not pretend that my views are well-researched or anything more than a surface level observation of an incredibly complex country. However.
This blog is a chance for me to express the things I witness on the road, the way that I see them. And so far, this is what I see....
______________________________________



I suppose it would be impossible to come to South Africa without noticing it.

Black.
White.
Coloured.

Race.

I guess maybe I take racial differences for 'granted' (is that even the right word for it?) coming from a country like Canada. Skin colour has never been a factor in my descriptions of people. I've never considered a person's colour before their name.

But we ain't in Vancouver anymore Toto.

Here?
Here things are different.

The other night, I was chatting with one of the guys who works at our backpacker lodge.
His name is Andre.
Here, people would call him "a White south african. His name is Andre"

(Skin tone first.
All else second.)

As Andre and I sat chatting about the impossible-to-ignore-issue of race, I didn't really know how to phrase my question.

Are groups really as racially divided as they seem? I asked hesitantly



It's just that this country makes you *pause*.. really... racially sensitive. was his carefully worded response



"Racial Sensitivity."

I guess one could call it that.
Personally I would call it something else, but maybe that's just my own brand of racial sensitivity training talking.

And it's not even that bad in Cape Town. Here, I've seen some (albeit few) interracial groups. I've even noticed a couple of wealthy Black south africans (gasp!)

But when we were in Clanwilliam (the little country town closest to e slice of climbing paradise we call Rocklands), the divisions were so visible you would have had to be blind, deaf, and dumb (pun intended) not to notice.

Black = Poor. Dirty. Tired.

White = Rich. Clean. Privileged.

And certainly White and Black would never dare mix.
Certainly not.




When you travel, you try to accept places as they are. Avoid judgement. Accept that things are different in different places and you can't always understand them. Just try to 'do as the locals do'.

But this?
I don't get this.
I don't get it, and I cannot accept it.
And I definitely can't mimic a local.
So I'm going to keep calling my new friend 'Andre'. All other descriptors be damned.




You know, they call this country The Rainbow Nation and I think I'm beginning to understand why.
They sure do pay attention to colour here.

This Is Africa...or is it?!?

When I first started rock climbing, I met all kinds of self-proclaimed 'travelling climbers'.

People who journeyed around the world finding new spots to climb, new pathways to the skies, seeking out views unseen by most of the world.

These people piqued my curiosity.

Travelling to climb.

I love to travel.

I love to climb.

Maybe I should try that.

Thus began the journey to Africa, to a place called Rocklands on the edge of the Western Cape in South Africa. A place where sandstone boulders spread as far as the eye can see, their red and black-streaked beauty interrupted only at the horizon, where the Cederburg mountains climb to the sun-kissed blue skies above.

It is beautiful here.

And yes, the climbing is incredible (and HARD!).

And yes, I'm having the time of my life.

But here's the thing.

I'm not really travelling.

At least not yet.

In my head, Africa was a place where barefooted women wrapped in bright coloured cloth walked along dusty roads, their licorice skin glistening in the sunshine, a pile of belongings balanced on their heads.

In my head, Africa was a land where people moved to a different beat, where the rhythm of the drums spoke to your heart and the mid-day heat left you gasping for air.

Instead, the Africa that I am living in consists of campsites filled with climbers from around the world. We eat pasta and rice. We speak English, Spanish and French. We go rock climbing.

We do all kinds of fun things, and none of them have anything to do with Africa.

Don't get me wrong, I'm loving every second of this experience. Friendships made, muscles tested, personal boundaries pushed.

But travelling?

I don't think so.

Stay tuned.

I'll let you know when the real journey starts.

This time for Africa

Round two.

After a brief session of financial and emotional recuperation in the relative calm of that place I call 'home', the adventure is set to begin anew.

Four months.

Two (maybe three) countries.

One continent.

Waka Waka.

See y'all in Cape Town!

Movement

Misguided. Lost. Searching.

How much of our day is spent deciding what the next step will be, how much of my time is wasted planning, pacing, perusing my options....

A few months ago, I was having a conversation with another of the beautiful people in my life. This particular friend had recently attended an art exhibit where a painter had come up with an unusual concept: A Blank Canvas.

Stupid right? That's not art.

And yet...

As my friend explained to me, that white square represents something deeper. That white square represents our lives. You can paint anything on it - any colour, any pattern, any idea. And so the artist, like so many of us, remains paralyzed in the face of the endless possibilities. Unable to move forward for fear of painting the 'wrong thing' for fear of making that white endless everything into nothing. Or at least the wrong something.


Today, that white square screams to me. Where do I go from here?

Surrounded by the most beautiful world I have ever known, I awake each morning to comfort and clean sheets, to the sounds of birds singing in the cherry trees outside my bedroom window. I turn on my coffee machine and the kitchen fills with the smells of western warmth.

I turn on my computer - one of the two I have, one for work and one for play. I turn on the lights. I turn on the music, the heat, I sit on my couch and eat my fresh fruit and museli as I compulsively switch from one song to the next in search of the notes that will get my day going.

Excess.

I check my email. A note in my inbox from a friend on the other side of the world. A friend who works in the streets of Kolkata each day, believing that some things can be changed.

A friend who has decide what to paint on her canvas.

Hers is painted the ruby reds and peacock blues of India. The gold and black of the Kali temples, the yellows and greens of saris and rice paddies. She has chosen to spend her days battling for justice in a world where justice doesn't have carry the same meaning as it does here.

She has chosen.

And I sit here in my complex web of western guilt, my comfortable little home where everything is clean and I feel entitled not to choose anything. My white world that never demands a choice.

Paralyzed in the face of endless possibilities.

The Middle

The sun is shining, and Vancouver looks gooood.

From my 17th floor perch, I can see the city all dressed up in its Sunday best as it prepares to welcome hundreds of sweatsuit clad olympic hopefuls. The mountain tips are peeking out the top of the clouds, the grey sky has finally changed back to blue, the winter air smells of rain and pacific ocean salt.

I'm home.

--
At first, it was hard to be here. At first all I could think about was the white sand beaches and sweltering noonday heat I had left behind. I had dreams of limestone holds and peeling right handers, I could still taste the mango sticky rice and chicken tikka masala.

And when I looked out the window, everything was grey, and cold, and rainy, and I didn't think I wanted to be here. What was I coming back for? What about this life could be better than the one I just left?

Then, on Sunday afternoon, I walked my little brother down the street to catch his bus back to school.

"Ok. See you next week!" with a smile and a hug he was off.

And that's when it hit me: I actually WILL see him next week. Because I know where I'm going to be next week.

I will still be here.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I am going to be in one place long enough to make plans. I am going to be in one place long enough that goodbye doesn't have to mean forever anymore.

Back somewhere where you don't need to say goodbye, just 'see you later'.
Amazing.


Suddenly, little comments mean something completely different to me.

Wow, you're blonde!

My hair is indeed lighter - and you know that because you've known me for longer than a month. Which means I don't have to tell you my life story. You're already a part of my life.

I remember that!
You remember things, because we have a shared past. And a shared future.

Let's hang out at my place.
You have a place where we can hang out, and it's actually yours, not a hotel room or a shared room in a guesthouse. It's yours.

All the comments that seemed so offhanded before, all the sentences that just used to be words...now they're something more than that. Now they're a reminder of how wonderful it feels to be part of something. To share.


And although I know my love for the road will never leave me, although my full time job will always be to adventure and wander and experience, although I will never stop wanting to challenge myself with new suns and borders and faces, this has been a pretty long shift.

So I'm going to take a coffee break for a few months, and enjoy THIS part of my life. Spend time with my family and friends.

Live.

Check ya later.













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Thanks for coming on the ride with me. Thanks for your support and your words of encouragement - they helped!

The stories written here are just a few of the thousands that have made up this last year. And for the price of a beer or a cup of tea I'll share a few more with you, face-to-face.

Or you could buy a plane ticket instead. Go make your own stories.
Just a thought......

Tainted Love

As the longtail pulled up to the rocky beach and the calls of 'take!' and 'slack!!' filled the air, it felt as though I had never left.

Tonsai beach loomed up in front of me, it's limestone cliffs and jungle growth glowing in the sunlight just as they had that first week in Thailand, so many weeks ago.



Within a few hours of my arrival I had secured a home and was sitting around a plate of chicken and rice with a group of 'old' friends. By the day's end I had climbed a few routes and found a means of employment.

Everything is the same as the first time.



And yet everything has changed.



I am not the same person I was when I first left home almost a full 365 days ago. I am not the girl who landed at an airport in Thailand and decided "maybe I'll try rock climbing for a few days. That could be fun."

I have changed in ways that only the open road can change a person. I have grown in ways that only a backpack home and a 'plan-not-to-plan' can let you grow.
I. Am. Different.



That's why we travel, I suppose. So that we will push our limits, so that we will know a side of ourselves we could never see from the comfort of our couch. So that we become something new; dare I say it something better?



Or maybe ignorance really is bliss.

---



Today I got an email from Bex, a beautiful and inspiring woman whose passion and dedication have continually astounded me. She's in Kolkata right now working with Deepa.

As I sit in my tropical paradise, alternating between drinking ice coffees and climbing rock ladders to heaven, she is elbow deep in the chaos of the City of Joy.

As I lay back on a cushion and watch the sun setting out over the turquoise blue waters, she makes the daily trudge past naked children and bleating cows, through crowded streets and up a stuffy cement staircase to the cries of 35 children in an enclosed space.

My greatest frustration in a day is not sending a route. Hers is trying to help a little girl learn to speak while surrounded by noise, filth and apathy.

Last time I was here, I didn't know. I didn't know that in some places in the world half a city sleeps in the streets each night. I hadn't stood at the foothills of the Himalayas and had my breath taken away. I hadn't ridden a wave or felt the power of sending a route. I didn't know what a family of five living on $10 a month looks like. I had never been dirty before. I had never been hungry before. I hadn't witnessed outright bigotry, I hadn't rocked a baby to sleep in the back of a rickshaw as her 17 year old mother sat smiling beside me.

I hadn't met Deepa.

Do all of these experiences mean that it should be harder for me to enjoy the beauty of now? Should I feel more guilty smiling in my little corner of the universe?
Because I don't.

I just feel luckier.

Which is why I'm going to check out until the end folks. This will be my last post from paradise. I'm about to dive in headfirst and enjoy these last moments of the journey without outside contact.

See you when I get home.