The Collier's Big Trip

A year or so later...

The trip comes back to me in a montage of memories that take me from one place to another in no chronologically correct order – just random snapshots of our trip tumbling through my head like a poorly organized, fast paced slide show. I’ll be in a cozy café on a side street in damp Bergen where we’ve taken shelter with schoolwork and strong espresso amid great art and new friends, then to a chaotic street in Kolkata, India, onto a secluded beach along Portugal’s wild Atlantic coastline, and so forth. The images stream as long as I let them. And I always do let them – I never want these spontaneous trips down this fantastic memory road to end just as I never wanted the trip itself to end. My heart aches for it the way hearts do for love affairs that have come to an undesired end. The reminiscing is a way to somehow keep it alive. I can't let this trip's significance fade over time because I know, in my heart, that it is one of the most amazing things I’ll do in my life.

Two years ago at this time we were still in the early stages of the trip. We were in Turkey about now and I remember how for Sam and Will the idea of journeying for another eight months seemed like an eternity. Of course, when we talk about the trip today what typically gets mentioned is how fast it went and how we wish we had appreciated that more at the time. It seems easy in the middle of life to say that life is short, maybe not so for kids. Yet I think both Sam and Will have a better sense of life’s shortness after witnessing, so intensely, the speed at which these ten months of traveling went by. Just one of many lessons learned along the way. We can use it to remind each other on a regular basis to not take what’s right in front of us for granted.

Our reference points of time and our movement through it have changed as well. To be so far from home without the ability to return to it quickly was something that took getting used to. I took Sam up to a hockey tournament in Boise, Idaho last weekend – about a five-hour drive from our house. It occurred to me as we anticipated the drive home, sort of dreading it, that at least we would be sleeping in our own beds that night. For ten months we traveled further and further away from our beds. Depending on the particular mode of transportation, a 21 hour train ride for instance, the great sense of distance we felt from home had more to do with the arduousness of travel. Our London to Mumbai flight on the other hand created a totally different "distance" sensation. Though the flight was long, it was stepping off the plane into such pure exotica that made each of us feel instantly, desperately far from home. It's probably safe to say that while we were in India and Nepal the feeling of being far, far from home never left us. It's funny, but we talk often about returning to places like New Zealand like it's no further than the drive to Boise. I wish it were only a five-hour drive to many of the places I think about so often from our trip. In any case, I would trade my own bed in a heartbeat to return to the sights and sounds and voices we encountered all around the world.

It was while we were in Turkey that I learned my dad had cancer. A month later, when we had set up our first "base camp" in Barcelona, I made a five-day trip back to see him and my mom at their home in New Hampshire. I remember how hard it was to separate myself from Anne and Will and Sam – to leave "the pack," and interrupt the rhythm we had established in just a few months of traveling. I also remember how bizarre America felt to me when I arrived in Boston. It started with CNN on TVs scattered throughout the terminals at Logan International Airport. It only got worse during an emergency visit to a mall for some much needed trip supplies. It was important to do this trip - to spend time with Dad especially since it was just a week after he had major surgery and a week before he would begin chemotherapy. I asked him if I should stay longer but he insisted that I continue with the trip – he was enjoying this blog and living vicariously through our adventure. When it came time for me to leave, he and my mom took me to catch a bus back to Logan. As I was getting ready to board the bus and we were saying our goodbyes, my eyes met my dad's with the question; would we ever see each other again? When I rejoined Anne and the boys in Barcelona we made a decision to dedicate the trip to him. Dad lived another two and a half years. Before he died this past August we had several opportunities to share more stories of our travels with him. He seemed to love hearing them. Dad was always a great support to me when I was off adventuring during earlier years. He always seemed to get it.

I was with my dad when he died. During the last two weeks of his life I spent a lot of time at his bedside thinking about our relationship and what it was like being a son to him. Among the things we had in common, not the least which was playing and exploring in the outdoors, was something I didn’t get into until well into my adult years (this is going to sound so terribly cliché); motorcycles. As a child, I would love to hear my dad’s stories about his adventures and misadventures on his motorcycles. He had a way of leaving a lot to my imagination and to this day I have pictures in my head of the roads he traveled down and of the different bikes he traveled them on. When it was announced that there would be a memorial service for dad in September, I decided that a fitting tribute would be to ride my motorcycle to it. It turned into a 5600-mile trip. It was worth every one of them. I rode with a picture of my mom and dad on their honeymoon in 1950 riding on a beautiful '49 Matchless. I had it tucked into a window sleeve meant for maps on top of my tank bag. It made for good conversation along the route with other bikers and even customs officers when I crossed into and out of Canada. It also provided me with much needed inspiration in the fifteenth or sixteenth hours of what were many excruciatingly long days on the bike. I loved the trip. I loved that it didn’t make any difference if I hadn't completely worked out the complexities of father/son relationships by the end of it. What I know is that he and I shared a love of motorcycles and I know I added something to his later years when I would tell him about my own adventures, and my misadventures. My stories never left much to the imagination, mine always had photographs accompanying them, like the one that shows up here in Ontario, Canada, midway through my ride to the memorial service.

As I write this I have no idea if anyone will visit our blog and read it. The trip ended more than a year ago and we haven't added anything here in the last several months. I just felt compelled to get something on paper about it at this time - just my way of keeping it close to my heart - keeping it important.

Ron

One insight

Ten months of traveling around the world taught us so much that we hardly know where to start. So I'll just zoom in on one insight from watching the Democratic National Convention last night. Bill Clinton's speech was great (so were John Kerry's and Madeleine Albright's, and Hillary Clinton's and Michelle Obama's) - pointing to unity, equal rights, and equity. But traveling through 17 countries made me zoom in on one vital point Bill made: the need for us to demonstrate our humanity as well as our strength. That encapsulated 90% of what this election is about for me.

Since not long after 9/11/01 I've been apologetic rather than proud to be an American, appalled by our government's demonstrated arrogance. The good will and good faith we have squandered since 2001! Clinton's remark pointed to questions that have gotten more and more pressing in the past 8 years: Where did the humanity part of who we are and how we are toward other countries go? How did our "leaders" feel justified to project only power overseas? Where did the spirit behind the Marshall Plan go? How could we ever have abandoned the Geneva Conventions?  

Our trip made me feel acutely the absence of that humanity - and the integrity and humility that are part of it - in our national character, not just in the perceptions of people in other countries, but in our messaging and actions. Nothing is more important to me in this presidential election than reinstating this part of who we are supposed to be, based on how we got our start as a nation. 

No one we met saw our government in us, of course - we were generously, kindly treated as fellow human beings wherever we traveled, and we expected nothing less. But we can count on the fingers of one hand the people we met who respected "America" as a whole. This has definitely changed since I lived in Venezuela as kid, since I visited Europe and Japan as a teenager, since I traveled through East Asia in my 20s, and since Ron and I lived in Japan in our 30s. I don't think America can have a progressive, healing role - or have real, demonstrable power - in the world until we begin again, as Bill Clinton said, to demonstrate our humanity, listen to our friends and allies, and work with them toward consensus. 

Redford's film Lions for Lambs, which we saw shortly after we returned, was to me a perfect snapshot of America's position in the world right then. But it doesn't have to be the picture when we have a new administration, not if whoever wins can change not just our image but the way we work with the rest of the world - not if we can again demonstrate our humanity as well as our strength. 

Love to all of you,

Anne

Home

It's now mid-July 2008, and we are mindful that we haven't put closure on this amazing experience. Reentry has left us speechless, in a way, but also busy. How predictable, that we reenter the US and suddenly find ourselves so busy that we can hardly think and reflect. But yesterday I got to a few treasures from the mail our amazing neighbor Toni saved for us - old friends' Christmas 2007 newsletters - and realized that our experiences and observations may be as meaningful to our family and friends as theirs are to us.

Coming back home (after "home" has become quite a relative term) has been quite an adjustment - and not from "fun" to "work" (far from it). More like from us being the constant in front of ever shifting backdrops to the backdrop being the constant and we find that we have changed. How we've changed we're not sure yet.

The shock is in how fast everyday life is and the way the pace of it sucks you in as powerfully as a black hole - and how hard you have to work not to be kept there on a constant, unthinking rev. I'm thankful a dear artist friend of ours pointed out Eckart Tolle's A New Earth in an email when we were in Australia, and then Ron found it on the bookshelf of another dear friend whose house we stayed in in Bangalow, Oz, and for its message about being fully conscious, alert, and, in a sense, listening right now. There's a tension between appreciating memories of a rich experience now past and living fully now, but that's ok. We deal. ;-)

Hawaii was no transition at all - more like limbo, neither trip nor home. With the exception of a few authentic-feeling old Hawaii moments in the Northwest Big Island, it felt like pure Americana, with everything big (vehicles, stores, people, meal portions, etc.). We quickly wished we'd stayed somewhere in the Pacific outside the US but ideally that there'd been some sort of slow freighter we could've taken back to the West Coast - the perfect transition tool. Heaven was our friends in Portland - long, long-time friends who in many ways nursed us back for over a week after we did a fast repack overnight in Salt Lake City and drove to Portland to collect our beloved missing family member, 115-pound lab Beau. They know who they are, these people who somehow, almost magically, became guardian angels with lots of unconditional love and interest, no expectations, incredible listening skills, and unlimited patience. How did we become so blessed?
 
Now, a month back and still unpacking, weeding, adjusting, we have two lovely Danish friends here for the weekend - Sophie and Jo, whom we'd met in Kathmandu at the beginning of their six-month trip around the world and about two-thirds of the way through ours. It's fascinating hearing their impressions of America while we all together process what we've done in our various ways and maybe help them prepare for their own return home. Will and Sam are thoroughly enjoying being with their friends again, as are Ron and I. One clear takeaway from the trip is that communing (kind of a combination of communicating and connecting) with friends was never more important and satisfying. That feeling not only won't change but is growing.

Love to all of you,
Anne

Going home

I can't imagine trying to use this space and time to address the idea of going home which is now upon us. Each of us has been coming to terms with this moment in various ways for weeks now - even months - but the fact is, in just a few hours we will board a plane that will take us away from the foreign lands we've roamed for the past ten months. In some ways it hasn't really sunk in - we're simply packing again for yet another flight that will take us to someplace new. Technically, we're not really going home - we're headed to the Big Island of Hawaii - a nice way, we figured, to break up a long flight and at the same time get familiar with being back on US soil. Yes, it's pretty cool that we could include Hawaii in the itinerary. The problem is it has come to represent the end of this trip and so here we are, bizarrely, dreading going to Hawaii. 

Christchurch has been an ideal place to close out our trip. We parked ourselves in the little beach town of Sumner, just minutes outside of the city. We've spent just the right amount of time getting to know it and the surrounding area and even meet up (mini reunions) with people we've met during our travels; Judi and Mike and Terry and Claire in Istanbul, and Bele in Sarnath, India. And, just as we have throughout this trip, we've established new friendships that have brought us closer to feeling a sense of home in each of these places. In the spirit of trading houses someday, we enjoyed a breakfast this morning with Dennis and Chris Quane. They are avid skiers and want to get in a Wasatch trip in the not-too-distant future. We would love to return to Christchurch, and their wonderful Redcliffs home would be an ideal base. The idea that we would be doing this during their summer months is fine with me - maybe provide the chance I've been looking for to learn how to surf. 

I'm sure there will be several posts from the rest of the family about this trip coming to a close and the reentry phase we're about to begin. Right now it's time to get my worn and tattered duffel bag packed for another trip down the conveyor belt. We'll be writing from Kona.

Ron 

Wanaka

Last December in Austria, we met a couple living in London but from Down Under, he from Oz and she from New Zealand. They spoke of Queenstown here on the South Island almost with longing in their eyes and said they planned to retire there. So we were looking forward to Queenstown. Thanks to Will, though, who'd heard a lot of great stuff about nearby Wanaka from his ski buddies at NewSchoolers.com, we stopped in Wanaka first. The weather wasn't great, but we loved this quiet little town on Lake Wanaka, surrounded by mountains - quiet in shoulder season, anyway, just a couple of weeks before the start of ski season. When we moved on to Queenstown, we felt jarred by how "big," commercial and cheesy it was with all the jetboating-, bungie-jumping-, and skydiving-touting storefronts and their glossy brochures. Ron said there have been two spots on this trip where he felt the place just wanting to reach into his pocket and empty it: Florence and Queenstown. So we stayed for just the 2 nights around our wonderful day trip to Milford Sound and then hightailed it back to Wanaka (which some New Zealanders say will soon be like Queenstown - I so hope not).

This time in Wanaka - three full days - the weather was kind to us, with only one day of inversion just like what we have in the Salt Lake valley in January, with fog trapped in the valley so that the surrounding snow-covered mountains weren't visible. We stayed right in town and rented a couple of bikes, and I had the most beautiful bike ride of my life (Ron's had more in the Wasatch, so I can't speak for him).

The ride was on a mostly gravel path along Lake Wanaka, starting at the little town marina, through gold-leafed woods and then on to Eely Point with its old-growth conifers and gum trees providing thick shade. At every point, snow-covered mountains are reflected in the quiet lake. A few kilometers on, the lake turns to a river, and the gravel to a fun single-track path. The river is a clear blue-green with white water in a few spots, lovely for kayakers. Hardly anyone was around - just a few trampers along the way. I'll never forget this afternoon ride or Wanaka.

We feel we've come full circle here in New Zealand. The trip started with a brief stay in London, moved on to Edinburgh and the Highlands, then to Norway with its fjords. So what is our experience in New Zealand? We go from Fox Glacier and Fiordland (Milford Sound) to Dunedin, New Zealand's most Scottish town ("Dunedin" is Celtic for "Edinburgh"), to Christchurch, NZ's most English city. This wasn't planned. ;-)  With less than a week to go in our final country, love to all,
Anne

Mountains

On this trip we have seen incredible mountains including those in the Scottish Highlands, Norway, Spain, the Alps (in France, Switzerland and Austria), the Himalaya, and finally the Southern Alps in New Zealand. Now, everyone knows that I love mountains - really, really love mountains. In some places I knew the mountains would be incredible such as the Alps and the Himalaya, but in other places I had no idea what to expect. Going to Norway I had no idea the mountains were going to be so majestic and that is the exact reaction I had here in New Zealand. The Southern Alps of New Zealand are beautiful. It is one of the only places in the world where you can stand on a sandy beach and look up at soaring, snow-covered peaks. What makes them especially unique is how they're either blanketed with snow or sheep.

So far on the trip, the mountains I have fallen in love with the most were the French Alps -  the Mont Blanc Massif to be exact. The Southern Alps here in New Zealand would probably come in a close second.  Another great thing about this area would be the small town of Wanaka. Wanaka is the perfect mountain town. It has a funky charm and a small town feel, but most of all you know the people are here for the mountains. The only movie theatre in town is an extended room to a café and is littered with couches, chairs, and even an old Volkswagen bug for its seating arrangements. The town is packed with ski, snowboard, and mountaineering shops all catering to the small population of people who make Wanaka their home in the southern hemisphere's winter. The people are wonderful and all have something in common, their love for the mountains. There have been three or four places on this trip that I MUST come back to and Wanaka is one of them. I think its time to start saving up some money so I can come back down for the real winter and experience Wanaka's real winter charm.

Willem

Glaciers

Glaciers have been some of the major highlights of this trip. The first glacier that only my mom and I went on was in Norway in a place called Spiterstulen. It was above a little lodge built up right against the mountains. We spent a whole day there and it was amazing. Will was skiing on a glacier but not the same one we were on. It took Mom and me about three hours to hike to the glacier. When we got to the glacier we ate lunch and then the guides got us all roped up. The reason why we got roped up was if someone fell in a crevasse then the group would stay strong and pull him/her out. We also had crampons on our boots. They’re spiky things that grip the snow and ice so you don't slip. We walked all over the glacier looking down into crevasses and into caves. We also slid down an ice slide, which is interesting when you're all roped up. Mom and I enjoyed our time even though it was a long, long day.

The second glacier was the Fox Glacier here in New Zealand and this time my dad and Will came along. The Fox Glacier is a lot different than the one in Norway - mostly a lot bigger. The hike up to the glacier took us only about an hour. When we got to the glacier there were steps carved into the ice for a trail. We weren’t roped up this time but we did wear crampons. Our guide spent a lot of time chipping the ice away with his ice ax. We really enjoyed climbing all around this one. There was one part where you can drink the water which is frrrreeeezzzziiinnnggg. And then we got to a point were it’s a total ice cave and you walk up through it and the water is even getting in your shoes. Then there is a gap you have to jump because there are two water crevasses. Then you look up and there is a huge ice arch you have to duck under. There is also a huge ice spike that was sculpted from nature. We had a lot of fun and our guide was really nice.

Our third one was in Milford Sound also here in New Zealand. It was actually a big treat because we took a helicopter right to the glacier. It was so amazing. There isn't a better way to see Milford Sound. We flew over huge peaks and valleys. The glacier had no one else up there so it was just us. We didn’t hike on it we just did a quick little stop. We landed in about a foot of fresh snow. Will hit my dad in the face with snowball but he was busy taking pictures. It was soooooooo beautiful. I really am enjoying New Zealand and recommend other people to come here too - especially if you like mountains. I also like it because It’s a place where people speak the same language as me.

Sam 

New Zealand's West Coast

A quick update: We moved on from Nelson a few days ago and began working our way down the west coast. Our first stop was Ti Kouka, a very cool little b&b just south of Barrytown. Owners Sandy and Russell and their border collie Webster were incredible hosts - they shared their home with us like we were family. We loved lingering around the table talking long after we had finished breakfast - postponing for at least a few hours our chance to explore the area's amazing seashore, including blowholes, pancake rocks, and the beautiful beach at the end of deep, dark rainforested Truman Track. We left Ti Kouka yesterday morning with a couple of bags of Sandy's fabulous zucchini and chocolate muffins and a good chase/sendoff from Webster (maybe he was trying to herd us back to the house?) and continued south into big mountain and glacier country. We spent this morning walking on and around Fox Glacier with our guide, Jono. We were quite the international crew - home countries included Belgium, Malaysia, the US and Australia, the sort of international mix that has come to feel completely natural Down Under which we know we'll miss at home. Tomorrow we go further south and deeper into winter to Wanaka. We'll continue posting from the road.

Ron

Sea Kayaking in Cable Bay

Today Will and dad and I went sea kayaking. So here's the story. We woke up at about 8:30 a.m. and drove to Cable Bay Kayaking. There we met Nick the owner who checked us in for our tour. He told me that he goes sea kayaking 235 days a year. That's a lot of kayaking. We got into the back of his old Land Rover which was pulling a trailer with the kayaks. We had to drive to the beach because the tide was so low. Anyway, we got into our kayaks and began paddling out into Cable Bay. We came to a famous point called Shark Tooth Point. It had tons and tons of jagged sharp pointed rocks that looked like shark teeth. Sounds appropriate to me. We had to slip through the area steering left and right while we were dodging all of the jagged rocks. Then, thinking it was just a bunch of rocks below the water's surface we spot some beautiful jellyfish. They had pink tentacles with blue backs. Nick picked one up with his paddle and it looked a lot different then it did in the water. So back to the story. We started heading in the direction facing away from the wind. We paddled along talking then came to a little beach. We had it all to ourselves.  After we ate lunch we started searching for seals on the beach. We saw one playing in the water. It was rolling around near the rocks waving a flipper at us. When I went to go look at it I spotted something moving in the corner of my eye in the rocks above me. First I thought it was just a bird but then I looked closer again and saw that it was a giant male seal. My mouth dropped and I pointed at him and looked to my dad and Nick. They knew he was there the whole time. I ran as fast as I could to my dad - I was pretty freaked out. Nick told me that seals look slow on land but they can go 15 feet in 2 seconds. That's pretty fast. Then he told me that the seal was a male and how they are especially protective. He also told me you don't want to get between a seal and their path to the water. I'm glad I didn't hang around. Anyway, we got in our kayaks and went on looking for more seals. We saw about 12 more seals just lounging on the rocks. They didn't seem to mind us around them. We also saw lots of starfish eating mussels on the same rocks. Nick told me that these are some of the bigger starfish he had ever seen. it was an amazing day and I hope I can do it again soon.

Sam   

America from the outside

We haven't had all that many political conversations about our country on this trip, just many polite passing references to our endless election season and the question of who we think will win. In Istanbul during a tour of the Topkapi Palace, a UK businessman did mention his surprise to us that only 7% of Americans have passports. An Australian businessman living in London who we met in Austria said he totally believed America would make a turnaround from its current dip in world popularity. But it was Joe, this wonderful Kiwi friend and father of a dear friend in Salt Lake, who got this layer of reflection always simmering below the surface of a nomadic mind bubbling up to the top.

Joe heard us say one or two things about our government and international relations as he was showing us around his beautiful town of New Plymouth, then that evening he showed us a clip of Apollo 13 the 1995 movie. I wasn't exactly sure why but knew this person of few words had a message in mind for us. I asked him about it and can't remember his exact words, but it was about reminding us of what's possible only to America, that we - and only we - can accomplish extraordinary things when we put our minds to it. He said something about not just being able to pursue a dream (he used that word) collectively, but about our amazing follow-through, the will to finish extremely difficult projects like the space race and what that does for the rest of the world. After the clip, he showed us a quotation on a carving about reaching one's dream (I need to email him to get the exact words). He said other things when we were there about how, using the terrible cyclone in Burma this past week as an example, we're "always there first." I mentioned that we're far from first in terms of overseas aid, per capita, and he replied, "Your president took the lead." Maybe it's substantive to set an example, as long as one has some credibility behind it (though I think credibility is a bit of a problem right now!).

I think Joe's right to a large extent - the defense umbrella over Europe, Bosnia, etc. - but at the moment, the Apollo 13 part seems more a condition of the past (traveling overseas now vs. when I was 12, 17, and even in my 20s is hugely different, psychologically - I used to feel a sense of pride that has been replaced by concern and regret). The key phrase above, I think, is "when we put our minds to it." Do you see this too, that there seems to be a lack of collective will in our country to do anything that could inspire? What could bring that back? Ron sent me a link to Tom Friedman's column, "Who Will Tell the People?" <http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/04/opinion/04friedman.html>, and it says all this much better (though maybe not as well as Joe did to us), now that we've visited a bunch of other countries and airports (what he experienced at the Singapore airport is exactly what the HK one was like to us). But more importantly, this passage is what I feel to the marrow of my bones: "Who will tell the people? We are not who we think we are. We are living on borrowed time and borrowed dimes. We still have all the potential for greatness, but only if we get back to work on our country." Would love to get your thoughts on this, posted here or via email. Love to all,
Anne