May 22, 2018
“In this world, there are things you can only do alone, and things you can only do with somebody else. It’s important to combine the two in just the right amount.” —After Dark. Haruki Murakami.
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from Japan
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
“In this world, there are things you can only do alone, and things you can only do with somebody else. It’s important to combine the two in just the right amount.” —After Dark. Haruki Murakami.
In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it is wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices. (Elizabeth Gilbert)
Expeditions temporarily empty my life of all but the basic concerns of eating, sleeping, travel and staying safe. Like clearing undergrowth from a garden to discover the outline of borders and flowerbeds underneath, reducing life to just the essentials reveals the fundamental structure that underpins the whole. I found that, with life at its most basic and my spirit stretched, what was most dear to me was memories of time spent with those I love. I take this as a clear indication that, above all else, this is what is important in my life. It was a lesson I had been taught before, but a lesson I needed to learn again. It was a lesson I needed to remember. Months after returning home, a priest in Italy sent me his thoughts on Antarctica. He wrote of his belief that ‘everything must be stripped away in order to truly hear again’. The phrase filled me with emotion because it expressed precisely something I had felt deeply in Antarctica. It is a place that strips away all but the essential and what is left is what is most important. It enables a clarity of thought only possible when we are at our rawest and most genuine – when we are scared, lonely, exposed. What is more, the lack of any physical distraction and the purity of the landscape allows the important questions to float to the surface, allows us the space, freedom and clarity to ponder our purpose and our place in the scheme of things. (Felicity Aston. Alone in Antarctica)
Returning home from a trip can be difficult; there is, inevitably, a sense of anti-climax. Many people fill the hole left by a past adventure by planning another trip or seeking the next escape. I’m wary of doing the same, worried that it could become a negative spiral, that I would become so intent on adventure that I would lose the ability to be content at home. Instead, I am determined that the two big pulls on my life, adventure and home, should provide me with balance rather than conflict. I cannot envision a future for myself without travel and adventure but expeditions also teach me to value the pleasures of everyday life. When tempted to moan about the annoyances of a crowded supermarket, I remind myself of how incredible the thought of wandering around a place stocked with every food imaginable appeared to me when tucking into repetitive rations in a tent. If I find myself less than enthusiastic about travelling to a family event, I reminisce about how much I would have given for such a pleasure when in the wilderness. The same process works in reverse; when feeling sorry for myself in a cold tent I made sure to recollect that I was living my dream. I believe the two halves of my life can complement each other and work in harmony; expeditions teach me to appreciate the blessings of home; and home reinforces the value of adventures. (Felicity Aston. Alone in Antarctica.)
Oqaatsut. village of 25 inhabitans, including 5 childen. 69°20'40N 51°00'10" W. slowly we fade.
Fishermen's hut at Kangia Fjord.