Eagerly Stouthearted: 2014

Remembering New Zealand is overwhelming... encompassing. I get lost elaborately remembering each detail and reliving every moment, often replaying specific scenes over and over in perpetual succession.

I long for that time. I yearn for the uncertainty and the loneliness that I knew and I ache for the embrace of those by whom I have been irreversibly altered.

It comforts me to find that vivid memories have not yet been lost. A single glance, a quick remark, one piece of advice... so simple yet each so firmly rooted in my history and forever more my future.

The miles traveled have been etched as a map across my soul. If I breathe deep enough I can taste the ocean air surrounding the Otago Peninsula. If I close my eyes long enough I can reach out and touch the mountains reflected in the Mirror Lakes.

I get lost there, in my map. I keep going back because the exploration hasn't stopped; it will never stop. There is always something left to discover and a new depth to consider and hope to understand.

Sometimes I get lost and I worry that I won't ever come back. What could possibly be more fulfilling than a place filled to the brim with scars of growth and triumph? It's a tough thing, convincing yourself to stay away from paradise. And yet I am away longer and longer and the whole thing starts to feel like nothing more than a faded dream.

Except for The Guide. As the Velveteen Rabbit was taught, "... once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

Not sure how many (if any) readers are still out there. It's been an awfully long time since I've shared anything here, but I think about my journey and the impact it has had on me nearly every single day. Some part of me feels like if I process my photos or share a new blog that it somehow signals the end of my trip -- a closure that I am not interested in discovering. However, I think I have come to understand that by cementing my memories on the page (digital or otherwise) that it will only serve to immortalize them for years to come. Hopefully I can make up for lost time, as this blog has brought me a great amount of joy and I can only hope to share a piece of that with you.

This article was originally published in the Washtenaw Voice, the newest extension of my Graphic Design/Photography studies. It was not an easy feat trying to condense my trip into 1100 words (as I'm sure you can guess by my typically-wordy entries), but it was a rewarding challenge to embrace. It also featured a sneak peak of images, of which you readers will see much more in the coming weeks! I hope you enjoy.

I've followed countless times as Bilbo runs impulsively from his door at Bag End – past the pigs, through the vegetable garden, and over the weathered fence, gaining momentum as he races along the footpaths of Hobbiton. His eager anticipation is palpable, as the first steps of his journey unfold. When asked where he is off to in such a hurry, Bilbo shouts the essential mantra for every soul propelled by wanderlust: “I’m going on an adventure!”

Without a doubt, this adventure is real. I can tell you I've stood at the gate of Bag End and gazed upon the rolling hills of Hobbiton. I've lain in the grass where Bilbo’s 111th birthday party was held. And when I couldn't take any more photos of the iconic landscape from my childhood musings, I was presented with a complimentary beer at the Green Dragon Inn.

Arriving in Middle Earth marked the realization of a goal I had set for myself many moons ago. The goal was simple: Travel to New Zealand within the next five years. I arrived with three months to spare in the fifth year – and no shortage of spirit.

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something… but it is not always quite the something you were after.”

Unlike my own journey, Bilbo’s was indeed quite unexpected. I am sure many of us can identify with the reluctance Bilbo felt before leaving the comforts of his own home in search of adventure.

But without challenging opportunities, how are we expected to test our resolve? Bilbo did not find the Ring in a pretty field with flowers, and we also must embrace uncomfortable, sometimes dark, situations if we hope to uncover treasures of great worth.

With Hobbiton checked off my must-do list, I joined an adventure bus that gave riders the chance to experience New Zealand as a dynamic and cohesive tour. I had embarked on this trip alone, and was concerned that the personalities in the group might interfere with my wanderings and wonderings.

What surprised me was how quickly this mixed bag of international travelers was able to foster a meaningful atmosphere – group dinners, family photos, cakes and cards celebrating the birthdays of recent-strangers.

“There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.”

It didn’t take long for me to get attached to my new companions. They pushed me to explore adventures that even my typically open mind had written off. On the eve of one particular day-trip, my roommate took it upon herself to convince me I should join.

Her efforts resulted in one of the best highlights from my trip: driving through a lush rainforest to go hiking on a frozen glacier. “It’s just ice,” I had told myself, but the vast, constantly moving landscape presented a staggering purity that I’ll never forget. To be such a minute visitor in a wild arena capable of such natural force was awesome in the truest form.

Above-ground hiking was not our only wild encounter. Donning wetsuits and rubber boots, we spent an afternoon crawling and squeezing our way through the glowworm caves of Planet Earth fame. I’m not sure what I expected, but I found myself encased in a few tight spaces desperately fighting off claustrophobic paranoia.

You can do it. Don’t be a wimp. If he can fit through, so can you. None of the typical mantras brought any relief; my only motivation was the understanding that forward motion was the only thing keeping me alive.

When I look back, I realize that my moments of confinement account for less than 10 percent of the afternoon, which helps me to recall the canopy of luminescence and the bellows of group laughter more clearly.

I also consider the fact that Bilbo, while equipped with the Ring, did not have any glowworms or friends to help him find his way out. (I’d like to note that there are multiple ways to experience the infamous glowworms that do not require any amount of hiking or squealing. Please do not be dissuaded.)

It was encounters like these that allowed me to trust more fully – both in my own capabilities and in my communion with others. But as much as I had come to appreciate the benefits of my close-knit group, I resolved to cut ties with what was familiar and easy and comfortable, and once again venture out on my own.

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

I spent a few weeks dating myself. Romantic dinners were enjoyed pouring over a new book, while generous glasses of wine continued to pour nearby. Lazy days were spent entirely in bed.

Photo walks through the numerous gardens were followed by late-night strolls along the harbor. Intimate moments were shared with complete strangers, as I remained open to the intelligence and stimulation within.

Make it a point to find and enjoy local delights – there are plenty of adventures hidden within daily endeavors if you are just willing to dig a little.

Maybe you’ll jump in a car with five strangers to see a live rugby match, but I can guarantee you won’t come home strangers. Maybe you’ll book a flight to see that seven-piece funky-soul-reggae band and discover a native ghost along the way.

Perhaps you can splurge and attend a red carpet premiere of the latest Hobbit film. But what do I know? I’m just some girl who stuffed her life in a backpack and boarded a plane.

Just as Bilbo took a leap of faith in leaving the comforts of Bag End, I encourage everyone to rebuke the complacency that comes with material possessions, and take the first steps of your own adventure.

You may find that a lack of tangible distractions allows a clearer sense of identity and confidence to shine through, whether you share it with companions or treasure it internally. An adventure can be in the next neighborhood or the next country, just as long as it removes you from your comfort zone.

Through the soaring highs and the heavy lows, I have found more fulfillment and satisfaction in three months of wandering than in years spent on my own couch. Because when it comes down to it, each of us is “just a little fellow, in a wide world after all.”