Here be dragons

My ex barely understood me at all, and what she didn't understand, she had a tendency to dismiss or got pissed off at. She never understood why I want to do the things I do--whitewater rafting, climbing, caving, backpacking, etc. She wanted to travel and see things she'd never seen, but she wanted a tour. She wanted to go backpacking, but then she couldn't get past the bugs or the weather. There was always something wrong. Everything had to be planned and executed perfectly, or she was unhappy. That's no way to live in the world. My plans, if there are any, are usually rudimentary. I adapt and relish the surprises and feel the better for it. When I go somewhere, especially a place I've never seen, I try to experience it as it is. I don't want it to fit some mental image I've built up of it. I want to be an integral part. As Dan, myself, and many others have said, that's the difference between a tourist and a traveler.

Many of the things I do force me to live in the moment. Many force me to be a part of my surroundings ("force" probably isn't the right word, but it's what I'm using for now). The rest do both. I think Meredith understands, and I think she is a traveler as well. If not, she at least tries to understand and doesn't dismiss my validity. I hope I'm as open to her.

The World Awaits
by John Harlin (Backpacker Contributing Editor)
Feb. 1, 1998

"Here be dragons" read the ancient maps wherever a blank corner seemed big enough to hold the fabled creatures.
And for most of us, the dragons still roar. Sure, we know all about the incredible shrinking world. We know that there are only 6 degrees of separation between a Tibetan yak herder and Kevin Bacon, that the one can call the other on a cell phone. We read National Geographic monthly, Time weekly, and watch the world news nightly. Sitting there in the living room with a glass of wine in hand, we feel we know the world-until we actually consider packing the bags and hiking from Zanskar to Ladakh. Then butterflies flutter in our stomachs and dragons roar in our brains. Yes, the world is bigger than our favorite section of the Appalachian Trail. When we strike off for lands that we've never seen, things take us by surprise. But that's the way it should be because those surprises breed a fascination that lasts a lifetime.