What I never really write about are some of the amazing people I've met whilst I've been away. One, I generally like to keep those experiences to myself and two, it makes me sound so gay when I talk about it.
When I left home, I had this idea of independence and it was difficult for me to learn that being independent doesn't mean being alone and sometimes it means that once in a while you're going to need to swallow your pride and ask for help (it would have made navigating my way around Germany's Autobahn much easier had I simply been less stubborn).
For example, my relationship with skiing is strongly intertwined with my epic bromance with Caitlin Brown.
After my first skiing accident, I was petrified. I couldn't get over the trauma of being wrapped up in one of those shinny silver blankets they give emotional drunks and skied down by patrol. Caitlin offered to teach me and I declined at first.
It was a shame of mine, this panic inducing, heart pounding, stomach churning, fear. I would dream about injuring myself over and over again.
People offered to take me up but I didn't trust anyone not to get frustrated waiting for me, so I snuck up the mountain once, alone because I figured I'd save myself the embarrassment of hyper-ventilating in-front of company.
After I well and truly traumatised myself for the second time, I took up Caity's offer. I've been grateful for her company everyday since. She made skiing fun. She talked me through icy runs and waist deep powder.
We'd rap on chairlifts and scream Azalea Banks lyrics at one another. She was patient and quickly slipped into the role of proud parent when I started parallel turning and, eventually, carving.
Heck, it didn't take me long to start howling like a wolf through the backcountry and doing small jumps out of trees to scare Sarah for being too cautious (which is what Molly taught me, while Caity yelled that I should remember a little bit of fear was healthy. Probably why I did deserve my second set of knee injuries).
For the rest of my life, skiing will always remind me of my bromance with Brown Town.
Just like how smores will forever remind me of Laura.
It must have been well after 11pm when she called me one evening to ask me what I was doing, "we're going on an adventure!" she exclaimed. After she assured me it wasn't to the seven eleven to buy her cigarettes again (like our 2am adventure last week was), I put some shoes on and met her by my letter box.
We made our way, with two guys that work in the kitchen of our hotel, to Alta lake. They taught me how to make a camp fire on ice, how to cook a marshmallow without setting it alight and burning the shit out of it and how to balance a Grahamcracker on your knee.
I won't forget the reflection of the full moon on the frozen lake and the way it made the surrounding mountains glow blue. There are moments when you experience pure happiness, I'm sure this was one of them. I instantly regretted not bringing my camera or phone or a paper and pen or stone and chisel to help me remember it.
When it eventually became all too much, I looked up at Laura with the admiration I'm sure beams from my face during times like this. She smiled, sighed, rolled her eyes a little and said "is this going to be one of those days where we share every meal together again...?"
I'm sure I'll still know her in twenty years time because when someone takes the shirt off of their own back so can clean the vomit on your face after a 13 hour drinking bender, you know that's a special kind of friendship.
See... I told you... GAYEEE!
At the start of my ski season I toyed with the idea of kayaking the South-East tip of Alaska. I thought I would spend three weeks independent and alone. Nothing but the promise of bears, salmon, open woods, bears, orcas, glaciers, bears and singing Pocahontas' Just Around The River Bend shamelessly loud.
The idea is to start at Juneau and make my way down to Ketichkan.
I was telling a few people about my travel plans one day, after borrowing a series of Alaskan travel books from the library (bitches love bitches with books), when Jodie told me she was coming too.
I really expected myself to be irritated or annoyed but I wasn't... I was... actually excited. Now instead of spending hours looking at dates and emailing companies alone, Jodie sits on the floor next to me reminding me to add mosquito repellant to the list, telling me bear horror stories or asking me what the red flashing light on her new GoPro means.
You can't be afraid to let people in because like my friend Penny would always tell me, a 'life lived in fear is a life half lived.'
You can't be afraid to let people in because like my friend Penny would always tell me, a 'life lived in fear is a life half lived.'
Independence was something travelling both taught me and made me forget. Meeting these people has changed me. I used to always write alone late at night, but now, I'm smiling because Caity's sitting here beside me nagging me to make sure I 'drink my tea before it gets cold.'
And these are just few people I've met in Whistler.
