The Abel Tasman; A Journey to Remember

They say when one makes one's dreams come true one must set their sights on new dreams and then work to make them a reality. And that my dear friends is what I have done. Way back in 2012, I set my sights on hiking 100 miles across the Irish countryside. A dream I eventually turned into a reality. Two years later it was hiking Scotland which I turned my visions toward. Again, I worked and scrapped and saved all my money until one day I found myself crossing the Scottish highlands on foot. A moving experience, traversing the heart of my ancestral home. As soon as that was remedied, I once again focused my efforts, this time on a long-distance hike in New Zealand. It took me almost two years to raise the money, gather up my often ragged determination, and embark upon an adventure that would not just take me alone into the temperate rain forest of New Zealand, but beyond, across the landscapes of the earth and into the unknown. The world...was waiting.

I did not know it at the beginning but the Abel Tasman Trail, 60 kilometers through the forests of New Zealand, would be just the beginning of something amazing, of something wonderful, of something that is currently changing me and my life forever. My journey around the world began with a simple idea and then blossomed and grew. It then turned into the here and now with those first simple steps into the deep, lush forest of New Zealand. And for me, at that moment, truth and life came spilling forth from the Abel Tasman. I was told and had read, that this was a coastal track. That it followed the coast along the beaches never

getting more than 150 meters above sea level. What I wasn't aware of was, although the track was only a short four day hike, how often the trail would undulate, how slick the track would be after the rain, and how it would challenge me to, as so often on my many journeys, screw up my courage, strap on my big girl panties, put my head down and just...go. As in the past on my long-distance hikes, I certainly found myself wondering what I was thinking trying to do this shit at my age and physical stature. 

 No matter what anyone said, this was a pretty tough trail. Once the rain had set in, it became a lesson in caution almost every step of the way. Basically, the whole trip was me lugging myself

  and my pack up, and then down, mile after mile of slick muddy trails only to have the forest suddenly open to the most amazing sights I had ever experienced. From high atop the forest's path one could see tranquil, green waters reaching out into the world beyond. There were waterfalls and rivers, water oozing from the earth itself. There were moonrises on empty beaches, where my tent and I would lie awake awash with gentle moonbeams and glittering starlight. 

There were sunrises for the weary of heart that made one forget all else. Forget the sore legs and shoulders, forget any missteps of the previous day, forget about what lay ahead, forget about all else, and live only for that solitary moment when one holds one's breath and waits for the sun to broach the horizon. And in that moment, all else fails you. Life was in that next breath, in that next step, in that next dream of adventure. That was what the Abel Tasman gave to me; as freely as the sun gives me warmth and the universe gives my endless dreams a place to thrive. The Abel Tasman gave me that moon, that sunrise, that journey, those steps. And I am forever grateful.

A Blogging I will go...

It has recently come to my attention that my son is about to start to write his very own travel blog. Now you must understand, he was the one who told me, in no uncertain terms, that my Facebook posts were too long and I should start my very own blog. That was like 6 years ago. And to be honest I've written some good stuff if I do say so myself. I've recently begun this amazing adventure of circumnavigating the globe and I literally haven't written a word, until now. The fact my son is about to outdo me in adventures and in writing stirred within me a sense of competition. And so, here I am typing furiously to you and to whomever else who will listen to my first-world problem woes. And, to whomever is ready to be entertained by my stories of rainbows, mountains, and probably a cute puppy or two for good measure. So get ready folks let the games begin. First up New Zealand and my time hiking for six days in a temperate rain forest just to prove to myself that even at the tender age of 55 I still could drag myself and my 30-pound pack up and over seemingly endless muddy trails through the heat and humidity only a rain forest can provide. Stay tuned...

Sandpaper Shoes

Note: Just thought I would share this. I wrote it when I first moved to St Augustine and it is based on a true story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

                                               

 Did you know; that sandpaper is actually made out of sand?

Did you know; that if you walk 5 miles on the beach barefoot that by mile no. 2.89 it feels as if you were walking in shoes made out of sandpaper?

Did you know; that walking in sandpaper shoes will give you blisters on your feet the size of Texas?

Did you know; that walking in sandpaper shoes while curling your toes so that the balls of your feet don't touch your sandpaper shoes doesn't really help?

Did you know; that If you park your truck down the beach, ride your bike 5 miles home, and then walk back along the beach in your sandpaper shoes you have to make it all the way back to your truck or lie starving on the beach until your sandpaper shoes are ripped away by the incoming tide?

Did you know; that a double cheeseburger, super-size fry, and a Diet Coke make it all better?

Did you know; that the cheeseburger and fries completely defeat the whole concept of walking 5 miles in your sandpaper shoes?

Did you know; that I have had moments of sheer brilliance in my life, so bright that I thought to myself, "YOU, Kristine are a Goddamn genius?”

Did you know; this is NOT one of those moments?

 To all my friends, from a girl...and her sandpaper shoes.

Outside the Box

                                               

Sometimes simple is best. Simply put; dreams really can come true. I am living proof of just that. It was brought to my attention the other day, that some people might find my way of life interesting. And as such, I might actually inspire someone to dare to dream and then dare to make those dreams a reality. Dare to live a life outside the box, to make their dreams come true. And so…I write. 
         In the Proverbial Nutshell 
Way back in 2011, my daughter and I spent 3 stellar weeks in Europe. We had traveled across the pond to discover our family heritage in Scotland and discover it we did. However, I was so taken by Ireland that my feet hadn't touched the soil back here in the States before I was planning my return. Then, in 2012, I quit my job and did just that. I Spent 7 adventurous weeks on the Emerald Isle. For part of that time, I was literally on foot traversing 100 incredible miles across the Irish countryside. An idea born, finally became a dream come true.

 In 2014, I again quit my job and traveled across the pond, this time to Scotland where I did another long-distance hike. Trekking 100 miles across the Scottish highlands. A dream, a crazy idea I had floating in my head, once again came to fruition. Then in 2016, I had an epiphany.  A wild idea of driving solo across America. So, I once again quit my job, built a bunk in the back of my truck, and hit the road. So, In the most simplest of ways

 my life evolved. I spent all of last summer in my truck camping all across this country. I drove 10,000 miles, hitting 26 states in just over three months. Those journeys, all of them, were indeed life-changing. However, after returning to my regular life, while also being enthralled by a deeply intrinsic reading of Henry David Thoreau's Walden, I began to realize that life inside the box didn’t suit me or my newfound philosophy that, less is more. It was also around that time that I began to have a vision, a dream of traveling the world, of exploring this earth and all it had to offer. But, it would take more money than all my other trips combined to do so. An idea began to form. I had just spent 3 months living in my truck. Would it be possible to do that full-time? Could I save all of that money that I felt was being wasted on an apartment that I no longer needed or wanted? In short order, I made the conscious decision to give up my

apartment and live out of my truck to save all my pennies to circumnavigate the globe. And for the record, I am not independently wealthy, nor do I have a rich relative that bank roles my trips. I literally just prefer to live a simple life with few creature comforts; putting all my money towards traveling somewhere new, somewhere exciting, somewhere beautiful. Somewhere... I’ve never been. And so the adventure began. Currently, my new minimal life choices are an ongoing sojourn.

Living in my little town in my truck is, I have to say, quite an interesting undertaking in and of itself. I’ve been in my truck now for 7 months and have saved a good chunk of change for my trip around the world. So, in the following blogs, I thought I would share with you exactly how I make this work. How I live, how I shower, where I sleep and how and where I get ready for work and all the mundane things many of us take for granted.

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 And, how my friends have helped me in my pursuit of living yet another dream. Because to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I could make this crazy life of mine work if it wasn't for them. 

I'll leave you with this thought: Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. (Author Unknown)

From the Sea to the Summit: Rainbows (Part III)

Rainbows: Now it has been said that being in the right place at the right time is essential to great photography and I believe that to be true. Now the other way to go about that is to almost be at the right place at the right time and force the universe to comply. Such was the case with me, my beer, and my rainbow. 

Having given in to the inclement weather and having lazed around all day at the hostel I finally decided to take a stroll in the misty conditions along the beach taking some pictures as I went and cursing the camera when the batteries gave out. I strolled amiably along the beach back to town where I bought some batteries and some bread because the two often go hand in hand, made my way back to my room, and then reached the incredibly difficult decision that it was time for a beer. For whatever reason I changed the batteries in my camera, (I normally would not have even carried it with me as the store was right there on the corner) tossed it without thought into my front pocket, and walked across the street. I took my time as I was in no particular hurry and carefully chose the cheapest beer in the store (Carling Black Label). I exchanged pleasantries with the store clerk and leisurely made my way out of the store. As I began to step into the rain-soaked street, I looked over my left shoulder for traffic and there it was; the biggest, most brilliant rainbow I had ever seen. I stopped dead in my tracks. And then my mind was like "Hey you dumb ass get a picture… quick!"  

The thing was it was a dozen blocks up the street to get a decent view and/or picture before it disappeared and who knew how long that would be. I would have to get a move on. I tucked my beer, which was in a brown paper sack, haphazardly under my arm, and literally sprinted up the street. I am sure the locals were like “Look at that crazy tourist.” No matter. As I splashed through the puddles with reckless abandon, I reached the top of the lane. I fumbled for my camera with one hand as my beer began to rip through the now-wet paper sack. I made it to the top of that hill in what felt like seconds flat, threw my beer unceremoniously to the ground, and got the shot. I must have looked half-crazed standing there with what I am sure amounted to a stupid grin of triumph on my face. Up to that point that had been the most laid-back day. I mean I had just been on the top of a mountain. Patience was my middle name, right? So much for being “laid back.” That was two minutes of sheer chaos and insanity followed by me laughing at myself for the next several hours. That rainbow must have stood in silent awe of my determination, quick feet, and triumphant grin. I am certain it watched in quiet amusement as I gathered up my beer, that had tumbled out of the sack, as I placed all but one of them as neatly as I could back into what remained of said sack, and casually sat down an old stone wall and popped the top on the remaining pint. 

The rainbow was still shining in the fading twilight as the rain started to fall again so I hopped down off the wall and began to walk casually back down the hill that I had just moments earlier traversed at the speed of light. I took one last glance back over my shoulder just in time to see that giant, amazing, rainbow, that had only moments before stretched down from the heavens, be swallowed up by the approaching storm. I turned and made my way slowly back down the street with the mist gently falling over me…and my sack of beer. Kristine one; Universe…zero.

Side note: I just want to give a heads-up to my friends from Lahinch. Lahinch was the perfect place to just hang out and relax and I want to thank Peter and Pat who ran the hostel for making me feel so at home. And I want to give a “surfs up dude” to my friend Colm who I came in on the bus with the first time I was there and who joined Nora and Martin and me to make my last night in Lahinch a grand, grand time. You guys really made a lasting impression on me and I hope that you find that killer surf you were looking for. 

From the Sea to the Summit: Perrick (Part II)

I absolutely, positively, adored my friend Pierrick. The day I arrived in Doolin I was sitting at an old wooden table in the hostel enjoying the warmth that emanated from the fireplace when in walked Pierrick. I smiled at him and said hello and he responded in kind. And so, in the simplest of ways, we began what would become a grand friendship. 

Pierrick did not go out that particular evening as he had decided to hike to the Cliffs of Moher the next day and I, after having one too many Guinness’ at the pub that evening, opted to take the bus. We did however run into each other on the Cliffs as I was heading down the trail and he was heading back. Although we didn't get to wander the cliffs together we were able to sit next to each other on the bus back to Doolin. Back at the hostel we sat next to the fireplace and shared some beer that I had bought at the store the day before. I had only three so we each had one and then we retrieved some glasses from the pantry and split the last one while we sat outside on the stone wall and watched the Aille River float lazily past us. It was a beautiful evening filled with the joy of being in Ireland. Along with our beer, Pierrick and I shared an abundance of pleasant conversation. We talked about our lives, our families, and about living life to its fullest. 

It wasn't long before Pierrick and I decided to take a stroll up the hill to Fitz Place to get a cold beer. Eventually, we found ourselves immersed in the music, the atmosphere, and the growing bond of friendship. I found Pierrick to be such a gentle soul. He had the heart of a poet and the mind of one not yet jaded by the cruelty that life can often hold. I found it incredibly refreshing that he was so taken by the simplest of things. He would look at me randomly throughout the evening and say, “This is it, Kristine! There is nothing else but this moment!” And he would smile and say this is so “grand” or “lovely" or “cool” and we drank our beer and toasted the night, the music, and the warmth that surrounded us. We avowed to be content, being completely and utterly engrossed in those moments. 

It was a grand and lovely time and one which I have to say was one of the best nights of my trip. Without question, I will remember it with great affinity and fondness. 

Unfortunately, as has happened so often during my sojourn, morning came and it was time for me to once again say goodbye to a friend that I had made such a special connection with. Pierrick and I ate breakfast and then together we walked down to the bus station where we hopped on the bus to Ennis. It was the small Irish town of Ennis where we would part ways. Pierrick would make his way to Waterford and I would make my way back to the surf at Lahinch. Upon our arrival, we gathered our gear and gave each other a hug filled with warmth and friendship. I watched with growing sadness as he climbed aboard his bus and waited for it to depart. As I stood upon the damp sidewalk I had to fight back the tears that I knew would, in due course, fall. Pierrick’s bus finally backed slowly away from the curb. I could see Pierrick as he smiled at me through the glass. His face disappeared only to reappear as his bus rolled across the asphalt and came back into view. I caught a glimpse of him so I waved and smiled, as did he, until once again the buses blocked our view. I waited to see if I could see him once again as his bus cleared the final obstacle and pulled out of the station. I could. He turned and looked over his shoulder as he waved a final farewell, as did I.  The lump in my throat gave way as his bus disappeared into the street and this time there was no stopping the tears. It was as if the universe was waiting because at that very moment, the rain began to fall gently on my shoulders and the tears that had been on the brink finally fell from my eyes and quietly rolled down my cheeks. I stood silently, helplessly by as I watched yet another friend make their journey homeward.

This story goes out to all the beautiful traveling souls that have touched my life so deeply. I am truly grateful for you all. 

From the Sea to the Summit: Part I

Once again time and travel have graced me with gifts beyond measure; great friends, spectacular beauty, and oddly enough, a lesson in patience. If I had to pick my most memorable journey of the past week I would certainly have to say that the climb to the top of Croagh Patrick was the ultimate in personal growth and life’s lessons learned. It pushed me past what I thought I could endure both mentally and physically and in some weird way gave me strength in return. Patience is a virtue they say and one that has not always graced my illustrious personality. But I will have to say that thus far there isn't anything in this life that has taught me the art of patience as well or as thoroughly as a single, solitary, majestic mountain known as Cruach Phádraig. 
And, thus the story goes as follows: 

It was an unusually clear blue morning as I made my way toward the path that would take me to Croagh Patrick's rocky peak. As I gazed upon the mountain from below, I could discern the slow progression of time etched upon its face, which the mountainside seemed to patiently endure. I was intimidated, to say the least. But soon my thoughts turned to my approach, to the task of reaching the stately mountain's pinnacle, and subsequently, to the arduous journey back from its peak. I was in awe. 

I do not believe that I have ever known the true meaning of the word patience until the day I climbed that formidable mountain. Nor had the term “one step at a time” been more real, more apparent, or more important than during my time on that mountain. There were at times brief respites where I looked forward towards my goal or back to whence I had come, but only for the briefest of moments and I found it was during those times that I would miss a step...falter. Wavering for that one split second in time instantaneously brought my focus back to the task at hand, that next step, and nothing else. I found that when I began to reach that state of mind where I garnered such complete focus wrapped tightly in a ragged determination to reach the top, I became a different person within myself. I could feel my whole being thrive on that mountain and in that circumstance. It was in that existence that I became deeply interwoven with that place. And as such, after my fear of heights had been conquered, when I finally reached the summit and looked across the vast horizon it felt as if, since the beginning of all time, Ireland herself had been patiently waiting for my arrival. After the exuberance and exhilaration began to gently subside and I turned and looked at the daunting task of returning to the fields and valleys below, I,  for the first, time understood completely what that journey, that climb, that struggle to reach the summit had taught me. I knew without question that I had been given a gift. A gift that had sat silently waiting for me to appear. The gift of a deep and true understanding of the nature of patience. And as I took my first step towards my descent, I knew I had been changed forever…