As I prepare to depart this town once again, I think back on all the memories. This place lured me in, welcomed me, and became my home. I left and returned, more than once. It called me back. And so, as I get ready to leave this place again, I think back on how surreal this timescape has been. I look forward to the unknown and unforetold days ahead, wondering whether or not they are foretold after all.
When I can’t get out on long epics, Microadventures sustain me. Whether out for a year or just a morning, the boundaries of adventure lie beyond the time spent outdoors, and the effects last far beyond those. So, here’s a microsalute to microadventures.
We crushed miles and the miles crushed us; we slammed beers and, in return, got slammed by said beers. We somehow managed to be the only team actually partying through the night, and we faced harsh judgement by those not celebrating with us. We endured altitude sickness, exhaustion, and general drunkenness. We fought and battled together and ultimately had an unforgettable weekend which left us hobbling.
Glistening anxieties off the edge of the brow, Drip away carelessly at the nudge of the wind, Which sends crows careening skywards catching a draft; Never an anxiety has littered their brains, This Sunday stroll as natural and unguided and free, As their flight on a Monday morning or Friday afternoon.