In my last column I spoke about my beloved grandmother’s
completion of her life journey and an
observation that I had yet to determine what, where, or when my next adventure
would start. After we laid her to rest
in a snowy cemetery in Wisconsin, about 20 yards from where I’ll also end up
eventually. I began to think about things.
Thoughts filled my head like “life is short,” "does it all really matter?" and “there is no time like
the present.” But to do what exactly?
Birthdays,
for me, are always a very scary depressing thing.
Not in the “one year older, poor me, sense,” but in the “bad things
happen on my birthday” sense. Bad things
have frequently happened on my birthday.
I’ve gotten food poisoning, had some pretty major travel delays, I’ve
broken my ankle, and had some other surreal things happen. The pain and tears can become a bit
overwhelming, and just staying in bed hasn’t proven to be a good defense. Toasting
in my 50th birthday at a beach in the Florida Keys alone (everyone
forgot to show up) and then accidentally tipping over the $200 bottle of champagne
all over my rental car was probably the silliest snafu of recent memory. I’ll just
leave it at that. Typically, I prefer to
spend my birthday somewhere else besides home, it helps me deal with it. This Wednesday, will mark the 52nd
anniversary of my birth and since my travel plans for 2018 have kept me in
South Dakota. I suspect I’ll spend it holed up in my house and then, possibly
going to eat somewhere.
I do
reflect well around this special day. I
see birds or animals and try to see omens or inspiration. I saw a merlin falcon in my backyard and many
suggested to me it was my grandmother checking up on me. I don’t know about that but I made a decision
of where I want to be for my next birthday.
I thought of the journey I’d always forsaken or felt the least likely the
one I’d ever accomplish. Over a beer,
while I wallowed on a beach in Honduras last week, it came to me.
I do claim on my business card to
be both a birder and an adventurer. My
interests aren’t all about birding. I
like to chase mythology and find strange archeology. I’ve spent many, many weeks seeing the great
megalithic ruins of the world and gone to places like Gozo, Carnac, Stonehenge,
Menorca, Cahokia, Spiro Mound, Crete, and Jutland—places that took much effort
to build and places that leaves one with more questions after visiting and few
answers. I’ve sat in a tomb on the coast
of the Baltic that could very well be the burial place for the legendary Hector
or Apollo from the mythical Battle of Troy, (there is a competing theory that
Troy is in Finland since they had to pass through Gibraltar to get there from
Greece), and I’ve mapped the mysterious Templar churches of Bornholm in Denmark. In other words, I’ve been to a lot of places and seen a lot of weird
things. So what great journey could
possibly be missing?
When I was a young adult in the
1980s, I watched a captivating documentary on PBS. It was a Great Journey special or something
by that name, and it was a trip so magical, I never wanted the one-hour special
to end. Trisdan de Cunha, a place with
an odd name, is a veritable speck of an island 1500 miles from Africa and 1700
miles from South America—the most remote settlement on earth. Once reached only by a mail ship the HMS
St Helena, a ship that for the last 20 years, I’ve received the itinerary of,
but sadly no longer makes the mail run out there. I could say this was the ultimate bucket list
item, but it is an item, I never added to the list since I knew, I’d never be
able to go there. They say Trisdan is
hardly a place just a “destination of the mind.” Maybe it is a place better to travel to than
actually to get there or for me, a place that one can only dream about or maybe
even one should only dream about.
The nice thing about sitting on a
beach is that there is little to do except see the waves, get a tan, and ponder
how many times should I go and find the locally rare flock of smooth-billed
ani.
These all all-black birds with a
comically thick bill that I’ve seen twice in Florida and once before on Roatan,
the bay island off mainland Honduras I was wallowing on. A group of anis is called either an orphanage
or a silliness of ani, again making me wonder who invented these names. Why are anis silly?
I pondered the life history of an Allison's anole I found.....but that didn't help me much, although it was a cute reptile.
Still pondering my future, I
trolled the internet and then found a French boat leaving South America on March
3rd, 2019 heading east into the lonely South Atlantic. I emailed a buddy of mine, Don Harrington
from Northfield, Minnesota, a man almost as crazy as me, and about the only
couple that would go along on such a journey.
Shockingly, he didn’t say no, then his wife came home and said yes. I don’t want to be stuck on a boat where
everyone only speaks French for a month.
I almost died of boredom on a sailboat with only French and Japanese people
as passengers for a day just going to St Barths where no one talked to anyone.
I asked my wife, a woman that can
get seasick just by looking at water, and even more shockingly, she said, “if
we can go to Galapagos later in 2019, I’ll come along.” As such, I just booked passage, and on my
birthday next year, I plan on being near the most improbable of all
destinations—Trisdan de Cunha. Now, I’m
determining if this will be the journey itself or a puzzle piece for an even
longer adventure. I have many applicable
bucket list items like visiting Uruguay, see the big game of Africa, go to
Easter Island, see penguins, and there is also a beach in South Africa I want
to tick off. How far is Mauritius from Africa? Is also visiting Easter island too much? Maybe, we’ll just sail on sail. Can we circumnavigate the globe? I also have an angle about finishing
something I started a few years ago and that may be something I want to
do. It is just too early.
Now I’m starting the fun of any
great adventure, planning the logistics and outfitting. Where is the nearest specialist for satellite
phone service, anyhow? Ah the fun is
just beginning… First, though, I’m soon off to Texas to climb a mountain just to
prove to myself, I still can. More on
that next time.
silly thoughts from silly me
Olaf
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