I ran alone. No sound of planes. No sound of automobiles. No sound of people. Just footfalls and the rhythm of my breathing–heavy breathing, at this point. I felt tired and my left quad was starting to complain. With the finish line only a few miles away, I ran through more deep washes, dodged cactus, hand-scrambled up steep slopes, kept a strong pace down a long stretch of dirt road, tiptoed across a narrow wooden footbridge, and slogged through more deep sand. Naturally, the final approach to the finish line required a crawl up the sandy face of a bluff. How appropriate.
As a Mainer and the daughter of an outdoorsman, I grew up being taught that ”camping” was a journey to enter Nature as deeply as possible. When I was a child, this journey, always and only spearheaded by my father, involved escaping from the comforts and obligations of home. At best, this meant an all-day drive to an uninsulated cabin with no electricity, no running water, and a distant outhouse. With loons, bears, an endless lake, and no other humans in sight, this sure looked like camping and wilderness to me. What did I know?
The travel restrictions of a global pandemic taught me something about myself. My voracious appetite for travel wasn’t just about leaving or escaping. It was, first and foremost, about discovery–discovering new worlds. And that discovery started locally, in my back yard.
Americans are hearing a lot about “the common good” these days and the need to govern our individual actions with the health of our overall community in mind. And rightly so. If […]
Unplugged. Alive. Free. Connected to nature and animals. Part of a team and part of something bigger than myself. A competent horsewoman who, unbelievably, did not feel sore. This was how I felt on the last day of the horse drive.
The schooner Timberwind– listed on the National Register of Historic Places–had its new bowsprit installed and rigged in on August 3rd Portland, the home harbor where it was built and christened in 1931 and where it served as a pilot boat until 1969.
Thank you to guest author Dr. Chuck Radis for permission to republish his article from drchuckradis.com. I offer it to Peaks Island Press readers to foster constructive conversations about how communities can […]
The day started with a trail run through shadowed canyons and groves of ancient oaks. It ended with a bottle of cava, hand-carried from Spain and uncorked on a sunset-lit beach that looked […]
Dear Travel, please rescue me. Relight, reignite, rekindle a space that feels dead inside. A place absent of warmth. Absent of light. Travel, I yearn to be awakened. Transformed. To be summoned […]
A fir tree should have been balancing–decorated with straw stars and red wooden ornaments–in the corner. A grandfather–legs crossed and cold beer in hand–should have been sitting on the couch. Instead, he passed away just days before the holiday, making this our year without a Christmas tree.