In summer I never believe anything unless I touch it. The season is full of mirages: oceans shimmer atop asphalt highways, lightning bolts camouflage as white heat, shadows promise refuge only to vanish in ether. In summer, I rely on nothing, waiting for incidents to unfold. Days, which are supposed to tread slowly like treacle running through the briar patch, hasten with wings from seaside to summit. I move at tortoise pace, however, upon the country roads discovering at each turn that I am on the verge of another mistake. Little whirlpools of dust rise and dance in the air while my heavy pack settles into the sweat grooves on my back.
Summertime is for unearthing one’s own truths and fathoming the accuracy of other people’s counsel. It is for gathering knowledge and conducting experiments. It is for orchestrating evaluations and constructing errors. So, with my necessary worldly goods I set out for the open spaces and navigate urban sprawls. I go on scientific voyages eager to know things for myself. I am always given innumerable advice before setting out on my open-air adventures, yet I find that the telling of them never sinks into my being. I nod pleasantly and agree with cannier heads about what I should and should not do, but I have found that their counsel only imprints itself on me once I have lived through the situation.
“Remember to slow down,” the wise ones told me, “enjoy the scene while you wander.” Too bent upon traversing the miles, however, I only look down, keeping my eyes focused on the pebbles and cracks beneath my feet. The towns come and go, the roads diverge yet I fail to perceive them. Blindfolded both to the beauty of grandeur and the enchantment of minutia I sink exhausted upon a tree stump in the middle of an unnamed grove.
“Only in my fatigued stupor do my eyes and ears open to the music around me: the whisper of a bent branch rubbing in the wind, the ditty of floating clouds, the melody of warbling frogs.”
Everything has been singing the sublimest ballad, but I never paused to hear it. When I regain my strength I force myself to halt oftener, taking in the tune of a busker, the sight of a single daffodil growing in a rubbish heap, the concerto of the night crickets.
“Don’t pack it unless you are willing to carry it,” I was advised. Yet, it is only after three and a half hours of steady climbing that I understand the weight of my extra comforts is a sack of boulders upon my hips. Late in the evening, I unpack and sift through my hoard, cheerfully donating what once I thought essential to my survival: a pair of binoculars, a tool kit, a second set of boots. I ruminate about each article before returning it to my rucksack, each delightful object of convenience has transformed into an unwanted encumbrance. After four days I have divested myself of almost my entire contents. I find I can live on very little material goods and the resulting ease on my aching back and shoulders is a justified reward. I have acquired the art of getting by on simplicity.
“There is always something new to be learned,” the sages admonished, “keep your mind open.” After years of travel I doubted them because I had seen so many majestic slopes, rain drenched forests, and interminable skyscrapers. I had slept in one-horse hamlets and desolate campgrounds. I had walked on mossy trails and muddy terrains. However, my trek is revealing that there are certainties discoverable only in the warmth of the season, when one can live outdoors and use the sky for a roof. The stars pour through the night air in three-part harmony during summer. The fallen rain collecting on silver fir barks tastes of larkspur and sage at that time. In the barren crags far above the tree line, the laughter of a clear spring makes the ideal lullaby. The campground’s scent reflects the passage of a thousand summers in each charred log. Some truths cannot be told, they have to be encountered by living them. So I venture out and plumb the depths of summer, to learn and relearn those instructions that never touch my heart until I have studied them for myself.
Do not take my word for evidence, however. Go and see for yourself in the soundless places how the snake slithers out of its old skin, how the beetle greets death with arms folded in dignity, how the new corn ripens in golden streaks within its husk during the silver nights. Use your guidebook to navigate the unfrequented alleyways; but also forecast afternoon thunderstorms using the fragrance of the earth and the dimpling of clouds. Refer to your map to show you the whereabouts of ghost towns; but sharpen your senses to locate lost rivers and columbine fields. Gather timetables so you do not miss the last train to Guayaquil; but do not forget to mark the shifting of Venus in the ebony firmament or notice the shadowless telephone poles ticking off the interminable route. These are truths no one can tell another, they must be sought after in diligence. Only the wandering curious unafraid of the never-ending road and the unforgiving desert will verify them.
In this short summer term, life is the school that teaches me. Under the estival spell I venture to the gorge’s edge seeking proof of the sluggish river’s erosive power. I read the stories of winter storms upon the scarred remnants of junipers. I learn the language of glacial moraines and attempt mastery of the grasshopper’s exuberance. Herein lie my lessons. I am grateful that I must spend my summer understanding these principles and laws on my own, so that they become a part of me.
BESPOKE TRAVELER TIP #9
“Discovery cannot happen without experimentation, error, and a spirit of inquiry. The freedom to make mistakes is one to treasure and exercise.”
Have any thoughts on how summer influences your travels or daily life? Share them with us in the comments section.
I wonder why my Inbox has brought me back here, but am so grateful that it has. The last drips of a thunderstorm fall on the sill behind me and I’m torn between the urge to dance in the rain and being thankful I wasn’t sleeping outdoors. So many truths herein, AG. Nodding sagely at the words of advice and continuing blithely on. As, I hope, are you. 🙂 🙂 Happy Summer, wherever it finds you!
I’m glad it did too! Dancing in the rain sounds like the perfect way to celebrate the warm months. Happy Summer to you as well!
I love the simplicity of hiking and camping…and only when out in the wilderness can we fully understand we do not need most of what we brought 🙂 Great post, really enjoyed the read and also the photography (diverse and different processing). Cheers.
So agree with you about the ability of the wilderness to teach us simplicity. Glad you enjoyed the photos! We were trying out some different tones to capture what summer on the road has felt like to us. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts! 🙂
Very beautiful 😊
So agree that adventures teach us so very much. As always your eloquence astounds me. Truly.
Why thank you Sue! So wonderful to have such praise from you! Usually I only learn the lessons after a lot of painful experiences (and subsequent complaining). 😳
This is a beautiful read and your descriptions are vivid and lyrical. Slow down…. keep your mind open.Thank you.
Thanks for stopping by Jane. So happy you enjoyed the post. I have been learning and relearning those two lessons over this summer. Hopefully I can keep them always in mind.
I find myself alternating between lazing in the garden, indulging in a few rays, and hurtling as far and as fast as I can, for fear summer is over. 🙂
It is such a fleeting season in so many regions, especially I imagine, where you live. Glad you are taking advantage of lazing in the garden, that is such a quintessential summer pastime.
So agree – the profoundest lessons are those that we discover for ourselves, through experimentation and some failure. It has a much deeper effect than reading it in a book or hearing it spoken to us by those who may (or may not) be wiser. I always enjoy your photos, but these are magnificent.
Thank you! Tramping about this summer we really felt these particular photos captured the season for us.
Isn’t it amazing how much we learn through experiences.
It is by far the best teacher, though usually rather a painful one!
Walking with you through your summer thoughts is amazing, your summer journey gives me eagerness to do the same.
😎 Thank you! I hope you enjoy to the fullest what is left of the season….
Fantastic pictures, beautiful message. I can’t wait till my husband and I can take our daughter traveling. We hope to grow a wanderlust in her that we’ve harbored ourselves for years. It is so important to live in the moment when traveling. I often forget this, but I want to make sure that I don’t forget to teach my daughter to stop and enjoy the moments that come. Great post, thanks for sharing!
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I agree, it is hard to enjoy the moments, especially with the stresses that come with travel. They make for such rich memories afterwards, though. It will be an exciting time for you when you can introduce your daughter to the wonder of this great, big world!
I truly love the Traveler’s Tip today – it resonates with me on both a personal and a parental level. I love the notion that we need to embrace failure, and by giving it a hug we find fortitude, resilience, surprise and delight. And your post clearly stands behind those words. Your adventures never cease to amaze and inspire, BT!
Thank you PP, we are always so encouraged to hear that the way we travel and see the world is an inspiration to others. Many times we have been told that “failure is not an option” yet we keep finding that when we allow ourselves to make mistakes we grow so much more. It’s wonderful that you have embraced this as a parent! (By the way, Chloe was a wonderful stand-in for you. ❤️)
Reblogged this on wwwxiccabella.
Beautifully written – a pleasure to read (and agree)
Interesting post 🙂 Thank you for sharing your experience