Family trips, camping—stories built on unending stretches of road, mornings too damp and ravenous, back pains...all soon forgotten, replaced by perfect memories of trails and mountains tops.
We’ll have some twenty hours of highway dust in our lungs when all is said and done.
Dust and an eyeful of whales and bears;
of seals, penguins and porcupines.
Shot with the X100F
I love emerging in a brand new world, far from home, senses in overdrive. But getting there...ugh. Airports, planes, shuttles, layovers—it’s like this twisted conspiracy, hellbent on crushing any semblance of joy out of the experience. At least with someone by your side you can share the burden...traveling alone is an altogether different beast.
I can’t check-in online—Wow Air is having problems apparently. So queue the queue...then security, then waiting, then sitting and waiting, then liftoff—45 minutes late. In Keflavik we wait again...then a crowded shuttle, then sitting and waiting, then flying. The guy next to me has a nasty cold and I try like mad to avoid the germs. Pointless when you’re crushed together in the same test tube for two hours.
We land at Gatwick in the morning.
The sun is out and the border agent is extremely nice—genuinely.
The young and old Queens sure do look lovely and surreal on that giant mural.