Flam; The Ins and Outs...

For those of you who are considering Flam, Norway as a destination I want to be sure you understand what the town of Flam really is. One does not come to Flam for the town itself. One comes to see the surrounding valleys and to use it as a jumping-off point for other activities along the Fjords. Old Flam, the original village, lies at the south end of the Flam Valley. It consists of an old church and a few 

homes, farms, or local mining businesses. The new Flam isn't really in my opinion a town. It's more like a station. It was built purely for the tourist industry. Technically it is where all trains, ferries, and roads intersect. It doesn't even have streets per se, except little feeder roads to the few houses built up

in the hills. It is, in essence, a parking lot for buses and cars, a small (very small) center for shops, knick-knacks, and a few cafes. It has the harbor, the train station, and a fairly sizable hotel. Across the main local road is the Flam campsite/hostel/cabins. I'll go into this at some point but I will say I love it here. It has fantastic views, and accommodations for all budgets and is only a three-minute walk to Flam station. Now, as I said in the beginning; one doesn't come to Flam for Flam itself. It's a great place for a maiden voyage into the Fjord lands of Norway. Easily accessible by train from
Bergen or Oslo, it's got a few good walks along the the foot/bike

path and one up to a magnificent waterfall. You can catch a ride on a ferry out onto the Fjords, take a power boat ride, kayak, or just take a walk. One thing you must understand about Flam; you will be sharing the walk with either the road that runs adjacent to it or the railway. One section had a good deal of traffic ( walk early in the morning. The sun rises at 4am take advantage of that) as it's the main road in and out. The other

is a local-only road that runs with the rail line. While walking that section I maybe saw 20 cars in 6 hours. The train more frequently. But the train is so cool. Be sure to stop and wave at the tourists on board! They get really excited when you do. They assume that you're a local. Now don't let the hoards of people getting off the cruise ship and inundating the town get to you. Very few of them make their way out to the

old farmstead, the waterfall, or the old town center. In all, I saw maybe 20 people all told on all of my walks outside of town. Also, if you want to get some groceries or go in and look around the station, do it early in the morning or after the tourists have gotten back on board around 4pm. Now having said all that, don't misunderstand how amazing Flam is. I am sitting up on the hillside in camp as I write this watching the buses go to and fro, I can see the cruise ship in the harbor, and I know the train will soon be pulling into town because I can hear the train signal and the train horn sounding off in the distance. There's a slight din of vehicles passing up above me as well. But this camp

site is like a little Oasis. The views are spectacular and the vibe is calm and serene. The sounds of the station are close but distant enough to not be bothersome. To be honest, I much prefer it to say hiking in Italy, or in Athens while being surrounded by hoards of people even in the off-season. Here, the off-season is pretty quiet compared to the off

season in the aforementioned places. I recently discovered that Flam is just the tip of a gigantic area known as the Sognefjord.  It's gonna take some planning, but I'll certainly be back to delve deeper into this area. I've already begun another grand adventure here in my mind. So, in closing; if you have limited time and resources visit Flam. If you've got more time and more money also add a journey out into the national parks and glaciers that lie along Norway's spectacular Fjord lands. Now go do some more research, grab your planner, and take yourself on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

The Italian Job

You would think that hiking up Mt. Vesuvius would be the great story I had to tell from yesterday. In actuality, it was the drive down off the volcano that got all the credit. 

One, there were so many people making the trek to the top it didn't really feel adventurous. Although it was super cool. The trip down off the mountain is the story that needs telling and I'm happy to say I'm still here to tell it.
The bus driver now, was a character. I had, with many other tourists, been dropped off earlier in the day by the morning shift driver so we could all hike to the rim of the mighty Mt Vesuvius. Upon our return, a new driver, the afternoon shift driver I'll assume, came rolling up the hill in a cloud of dust, hand on the horn, wherein he unceremoniously threw open the doors and came to a skidding halt. This mind you while chanting a chorus of (with a thick Italian accent) "Pompeii, Pompeii, Pompeii!" Pronounced: Palm-Pay-UHH! Palm-Pay-UHH! Palm-Pay-UHH! Those of us waiting for a ride back to town scurried over, jumped on the bus, and took our obligatory places. We didn't get the last ass in the seat before he closed the door and began this three-point turn in this tiny space with all these tourists milling about who were paying absolutely no attention to the fact they were about to come face to face with the Dirty Harry of Italian bus drivers. He backed up, pulled forward, and seemingly sideways; all the while yelling, "Oh! Hey! Oh! Ay!" And making what I gathered was the sound an unaware tourist makes when squished by a bus filled with other tourists. This had the back of the bus smiling and giggling with laughter, for now. After some expert maneuvering, we left them all behind in a cloud of ash, most of them pressed against a wooden railing with a look of terror on their suntanned faces. Here's where it gets good. This guy didn't give two shits about anything, literally. As we weaved our way down the mountainside we took out some guy's side mirror and missed other cars and buses by mere inches as the bus tossed us to and fro and side to side. At one point there was an 

 audible gasp from the entire bus as we damn near came up on two wheels around one of the 100 or so bends in the road which switchbacked down the mountain. The giggling disappeared to be replaced with strong grips on the seat in front of us and a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers whispered under our collective breaths.

 We did finally make it down into the city where he stopped on occasion to talk to other old Italian guys. There was a lot of hand waving and Ohs and ahs! It looked as if they were all angry with one another, but he always pulled away smiling. I'm guessing it is just a thing in Italy. Genghis Khan finally dropped us at the station near the square wherein we all filed off the bus thankful to be alive and, whether we were religious or not, crossing ourselves as we passed in front of a cathedral that I'm sure God put there intentionally to gather any lost sheep that made it off the bus in one piece. End scene.

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.

,

 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.