One-way tickets

Or, alternate post title: "Holy $@%#, this is really happening!"

You know how I set an intention this year to be a more active participant in my own life? Well, I just did something to really act on that. I've had the seed of a dream for a while now, but it was too delicate of an idea to even talk about. So it remained a distant dream. A maybe. A someday.

After seeing a growing number of friends embark on their own long-term journeys to various places around the globe, we finally asked ourselves, why aren't we doing that? I mean, really. Why aren't we?

I realized then that I'd defaulted to this self-limiting mindset that things like this only happened to other people. It was something which I would only ever experience vicariously. But one day, we asked ourselves (almost in jest), do you think we could do that? Could we? There were so many "practical" excuses that could deflate such an idea. But my only regret now is that we didn't decide to do this sooner.

So the delicate seed of an idea was born and continued to grow. It sat, at the back of our minds (most of the time) while we squirreled away money into a new savings account. And waited. Not so patiently. But we waited.

Reading Vagabonding only reinforced everything we were trying to do. Many travel blogs too. And inspiring articles like this.

I need to see more of the world. I do. I need to see/understand/appreciate how the values I have and the systems I operate within are just one of many possible ways of living. I need to be thrust firmly out of my comfort zone. See how I fare without the safety net. Stray from the linear trajectory I've been on. Go sideways. 

So we're doing it. It's happening: we just bought one-way tickets to Bangkok. I. Cannot. Believe. I just typed that sentence. Holy #$%@! I've been wanting this to happen for so long!

From Bangkok, the plan—or "unplan" (more on that later)—is to begin a 6-month adventure around South East Asia, northern India, Nepal, Bhutan, and—time- and resource-pending—Japan.

Cried a little bit when I saw the confirmation screen from Expedia.

Only 150 days to go!

I am Spartan!

I had some idea of what I was getting myself into when I signed up for the Spartan Race. I knew it was a 5k race with obstacles, and I'd heard from people who'd done it in the past what some of them might be, but still, I went into it fairly blind. Then, a couple of days before the race, I got the waiver. It gave me some new ideas of what I was getting myself into:

"The risk of injury and/or death from the activities involved in the Spartan Race and its related events is significant including, but not limited to the following: (i) drowning; (ii) near-drowning; (iii) sprains; (iv) strains; (v) fractures; (vi) heat and cold injuries; (vii) over-use syndrome; (viii) injuries involving vehicles; (ix) animal bites and/or stings; (x) contact with poisonous plants; (xi) accidents involving, but not limited to paddling, climbing, biking, hiking, skiing, snow shoeing, travel by boat, truck, car, or other convenience; and (xii) the potential for permanent paralysis and/or death."

Oh crap.

Then I arrived at the race for my start-time (they had staggered start times all day long), and saw people coated in mud—some limping—and got a few more ideas of what I was in for.

And now, having done it, I can tell you how it went down. What I was in for was a 5km run through mud—über-thick, suctioning mud most of the time, slick mud the rest of the time—bogs, forests, fields, and rivers, all the while tackling random obstacles including, but not limited to: scaling an 8-foot wall, crawling through culverts, climbing up and over tall nets strung between trees, hauling heavy sandbags and cinderblocks, a 100-metre military crawl under barbed wire (through mud, of course), rope climb, javelin toss, and burpees for any unaccomplished task. And just before the finish line, you have to battle your way past two gladiators set to pummel you with those giant q-tips (which were a lot softer than they looked!). Also, there was a second military crawl under barbed wire, right near the finish line. This one was only about 10-metres, and as I was going through I felt a strange and painful spasm in my shoulder, which I found out later wasn't a spasm, it was a shock from the barbed wire, which was electrified!

Doing burpees, even though my javelin clearly hit the giant straw man!
And scaling the 8-foot wall, which I promptly fell off of...

Apparently, this is the face I make after receiving an electrical shock.

Hey, look at me! I'm more Spartan than I thought!

The shoes that previously had seen nary a puddle...

This is about the fifth sink wash...

Do what you can't do

Just looking at the sheer range of works that Picasso produced proves that this wasn't just something he said; it's something he lived. The AGO's exhibit of work from his personal collection truly shows that there's no medium he didn't try. Whether you're a fan of his work or not, his immense impact on the art and political scene of the time, and lasting impact into today's art and pop culture scene, cannot be denied. He was revolutionary! I was especially taken with his etchings and line drawings of performers backstage. Such energy, whimsy, and passionate sense of fun.

And he sure liked the ladies, didn't he? The infographic of the chronology of his life showed a lot of overlap between the women in his life—made me giggle. But each was a muse for him at different points in his life, and had a huge influence on his work.

It was fun to be back in Toronto, to see the AGO after the reno (so light and airy!) and to feel the energy of the city that I sometimes miss, but in hindsight feel I never appreciated enough while I lived there.

Lake Superior by Lawren Harris

Perhaps my favourite room in the AGO? Love the paintings exhibited floor-to-ceiling, French salon style.

Awesome mural by Nunca, southside of 52 McCaul Street

So, in closing...

Western Massachusetts? Awesome. Here's a few reasons why you should visit:

1. You can hike with llamas.
2. It's very pretty. There's waterfalls, and forests to explore.
3. You can visit local farms and maybe meet some little piglets. And eat some raw cheese and drink raw milk.
4. You can step back in time. Or just feed a wee lamb.
5. There's a lot of lovely art galleries; many are free.
6. You can sit and watch the sun set over three states.
7. Serendipitious things might happen.

Supermoon serendipity

If the road we wanted to take hadn't been washed out, we wouldn't have had to find a different route to get to Tannery Falls.

If we had decided that the 'unassumed road' on this alternate route wasn't worth the risk of bottoming out the car or possibly getting stuck in some ditch far away from help, we would have missed out on the most beautiful (double!) waterfalls I've ever seen. And some impressive tree-roots making the most efficient beeline to water!

Had we decided not to go to Tannery Falls because of all the crazy road impediments, we would have been on a different road at a different time and missed seeing this beautiful bear! (Just like the one we saw recently in Gatineau but didn't get a photo of.)

Had we not done all that waterfall adventuring (which took a lot longer than anticipated), we would have been at the Indian restaurant for lunch instead of dinner and we would have missed sitting beside the couple who we got to talking with, who told us about the free concert they were about to attend.

Had that couple not forgotten their leftovers, we may have decided not to be spontaneous and go find them and see about this free show.

And I would have missed the most incredible evening of African song and dance I have ever witnessed, all in honour of their beloved professor, Ernest Brown, who passed away quite recently. I would not have been moved to tears by the raw talent, passion and intensity of these talented young musicians, dancers, and singers. And I would not have been part of the procession of audience members and performers drumming and singing out into the streets where the celebration continued into the night, under the light of the supermoon.

Several times that evening I wondered happily, how did I get here?

I wish I had some photos or videos of that night's performance, but I've found some youtube videos that are similar to what I saw. This one of the Zambezi Marimba Band that Ernest founded and directed, and this one of Kusika. Definitely worth watching!

Pretty pretty nature stuff

Ok, I'm almost done sharing stories and photos from my week in MA. Along with various farm animal and art encounters, we went on a few walks through new, spring-fresh forests to see some lovely waterfalls. And because we seemed to be hitting the Berkshires directly in the off-season, we rarely encountered another hiker and had the quiet of the forest all to ourselves. 

The Cascades

Tucked at the end of a quaint residential street between Williamstown and North Adams, the trail to The Cascades is short, and most definitely worthwhile.

Wahconah Falls

Audible from the parking lot, this picturesque waterfall tumbles over angles and edges into a large pool, surrounded by lush, mossy vegetation, and so many different kinds of ferns!

Tannery Falls
Not the easiest to get to, but if you adventure along the use-at-your-own-risk "road" (more like ATV trail), you will be rewarded with not one, but two spectacular waterfalls. Double waterfalls! What does it mean?! Only a few hundred feet apart, but completely different from one another.

Natural Bridge State Park

On the site of an old marble quarry, a waterfall tumbles over stark, white marble and through rock forming kettles and channels and the namesake bridge.

Mount Sugarloaf State Reservation

Made up of two bumps rising sharply out of the Pioneer Valley—North Sugarloaf (791 ft) and South Sugarloaf (652 ft)—these loafs offer a commanding view of the Connecticut River and the Holyoke Range to the south. I wouldn't say I'm afraid of heights, but driving up the narrow road running up the dramatic cliff-edge of South Sugarloaf was scary! (Worse going up, because you're on the outside of the road, closer to the edge...)

Sunset on the Mohawk Trail

The Mohawk Trail was one of the first scenic byways in the United States, along what was once a trade route connecting Native North Americans on the Atlantic with upstate New York. It winds east-west from Greenfield to North Adams, through the Berkshires, along the Hoosic River, getting increasingly narrow and winding (and impossible to photograph!) through Florida county, where evidence is still visible from the surging hurricane waters of Irene last summer.

We got to the top of the famous hairpin turn as the sun was setting, so we sat, and waited, and watched the light change. From this vantage point overlooking North Adams and Williamstown, you can see the Taconic range in New York to the west, and the Berkshire mountains extending into Vermont to the north.