At the age of 52, I have just returned from a trip that felt like the biggest I have done for a very long time. I took myself from the Chilean Atacama across into Bolivia to trail across the desert and the salt flats up to the highest capital in the world, La Paz. From there I ‘turned left’ and headed for Lake Titicaca into Peru and the Sacred Valley of the Incas. Machu Picchu was a life goal. Unable to resist the relative proximity, I tacked on an 8-day cruise through the West, Central & Eastern islands of the Galapagos archipelago; stopping in Quito on the way.
Not all of the travelling that I write about involves a ticket and a passport. For me it goes much deeper. To travel is to incite change. A journey can simply mean personal growth. Whilst my childhood family travels encouraged the desire for future cultural exploration, I am quite sure that my personal experiences in life greatly informed the desire to seek connection in difference or solace in contemplation. I always stress to those that comment on my life journey that my life is no better or worse than others’. I hate to think that the events I have lived through, and the tales that grow from them, would make my hardships any different or more important than those of other folk. But they have certainly had a massive impact on my view of the world. Today, a drive along a road from my past triggered contemplation of the paths we take and what we take from the journeys.