Bucket List

                          Algonquin Provincial Park

I have never made a bucket list - a list of things to do before you die, so I thought it would be fun to do a list of the places I want to see before I kick the bucket, or pop my clogs, take your pick.
The problem is that the list is fluid, and seems to change on an almost daily basis. There are a few stalwarts like Petra (visited last year so can now be struck off), the Taj Mahal (also seen), Venice, New Zealand, the Aurora Borealis (which I do know is not a place) and Bhutan, but as for everything else on the list today, tomorrow it will be different.

I would though, dearly love to see more than cities. I do enjoy visiting museums, art galleries, coffee shops, taking in the atmosphere of a city, sitting and watching the world go by, but for a change, it would be nice to see something of a country. I would, for example, love to see the "real" Canada, to hear the call of the wolf, to smell clean air and to be able to see the stars at night. There is so much light pollution here that it is difficult to see a single star. I know they are out there keeping company with the moon, but it would be nice to view them.

A few years ago, we had a family holiday in Canada, the second week on the edge of the Algonquin Provincial Park. The idea was that we would go on a wolf listen. Typically, the wolves had other ideas and had moved to another area and we were unable to go out and listen to them howling. In fact, it was a spectacularly unsuccessful wildlife holiday, we did not see so much as an elk. Every beast in the vicinity seemed to have packed a suitcase and gone on their own holiday, as far away from where we were as they could get, and frankly who could blame them?
I want an adventure, not the usual book a flight and hotel and go shopping or to a cafe (although coffee-less would be very bad indeed). I want to get off the beaten track, to wander aimlessly, to watch clouds scud across the skies, trees bowing before the wind, hear the echo of silence, see the stars at night, or the sun dip behind the mountains. These things you cannot do in the city. The cacophony of car engines, doors slamming, mobile phones ringing and people yelling, prevent the rhythms of the earth being heard. There is no stillness. Everywhere is noise and movement. We have become disconnected from our environment and from ourselves and we need to take time to stop and listen.

Light

Finally, there is light at the end of the day. By that I mean that at 5.00pm when I leave the office, the last vestiges of light are lingering and I can almost find my way to my car without falling down a pothole. It points to spring when the trees start to bud and flowers are beginning to wake from their slumbers. Spears of daffodils, and crocus are poking through the ground waiting for the warmth of the sun and I am coming out of my slump.

During the winter, my brain stops functioning properly and hibernation mode kicks in. It is hard to concentrate, and my enthusiasm for anything dries up. I want endless pyjama days which, of course, I don't get and I want to eat endless chocolate, something which I do sometimes give in to. About now, my spirits start to lift and my mental hibernation begins to come to an end and I feel generally lighter, as though a weight has lifted.

Apparently, in parts of the country at the moment, if it is cloudless, you can see the Northern Lights. Of course here with all the light pollution it is nigh impossible to spot such things, and in fact, you are lucky to see a star. A little further north, in Yorkshire, some stunning photographs have been taken of the Aurora Borealis in all their breathtaking beauty. Normally seen only near the Arctic Circle, these rare sightings are only possible because of a strong solar explosion. Catch them if you can.

Signs of Spring.

I was out early this morning to walk a couple of dogs. The trees were tipped with gold, grass crinkled under food and my breath hung before me in the air. It was beautiful and signs of spring were everywhere. I rang my first snowdrop. It was surrounded by tiny spears of crocus and daffodils poking out of the grass beneath a weeping willow.

It is ironic that the first signs of spring are accompanied by one of the coldest mornings of
this winter and I had to scrape the ice off the car for the first time. The trouble with mornings like this is that the sun is so low, it makes it hard to see. Still, I am not complaining, it is a glorious day. Blue skies and sunshine no matter how cold, serve to cheer me up. It is the way it should be, no grey skies and dark days, just beautiful sunshine which brings with it the hope of warmer, longer days.

It is days like this that sustain me through the winter when all I really want to do is stay in bed and keep warm. Although I do not take kindly to snow, at least if we have a blanket of white, it looks like winter should, but instead we get short, dull days with grey skies. The nights are starting to draw out, and there is still a little light in the sky when I leave the office at 5.00pm. The mornings too are lighter now which makes getting up a little easier.

Soon, the trees will be in bud and the geese will be flying north, landing on the field around the corner to rest before continuing their journey. They make such a racket flying overhead in triangle formation but they do herald a welcome change in the seasons.

Is this it?

Do you ever wonder whether this is it, this is all life has to offer? Mortages to pay and food to put on the table means that many people are stuck in jobs they don't like, often with horrendous commutes and for fourty years or more, we spend more time with work colleagues than we do with our families. We lose ourselves in our work, often feeling miserable, and then going home with no enthusiasm for anything.

Perhaps this is the way life is supposed to be. Hard slog with little reward, and then retirement at an age when you are too old to enjoy it. That is a depressing thought.

When I left school, I had no idea what I wanted to do, likewise when I left college. It is only recently I have worked out what I want to do when I am a grown up and part-time I am doing it. It is not enough.

I am not, nor have I ever been good at working for someone else, I do it because I have to. I always feel like I am trapped, unable to breathe, wading uphill through treacle and it makes me stressed and in a bad mood. I don't take orders well. Ask me to do something, and I will willingly do it; tell me and goodwill flies out of the window. The stress of having someone peering over your shoulder at everything you do, drives me to distraction and I like to be left alone to get on with what ever work I have. When you work for someone else, this does not happen. Sometimes too, your opinion of what is professional is not the same as that of the person you work for and this can lead to tensions in the office.

What I crave is freedom, freedom and the space to do my own thing. I would love to be able to get up in the morning and decide for myself what the day will hold. I had a period of unemployment a while ago, and apart from the financial strains which were many, there was a freedom which I had rarely felt before. It did not feel like the end of my life, but the start of the next chapter, and I promised myself that I would not climb back on to the hamster wheel. As things turned out, I was not able to keep that promise, and I am currently running on that dreaded hamster wheel, just trying to stand still. I am working hard at changing things, but for now the peddling and the stress continue with little more than a tiny speck of light at the end of a very long tunnel.

Sailing and why I don't.

I am looking for ways of earning extra money. At this time of year, the purse is pretty empty, and things like the car tax fall due for payment, really bad timing just after Christmas. So, I am looking at my options.

There is a website where freelance jobs are advertised, and I have been poking about to see what is on offer. One job asked for a short piece on travel mishaps, and it reminded me of something that happened to me a number of years ago.

My French friend had come across for a visit, so we thought that we would take her to the beautiful Lake District. It was July, and the weather typical for a British summer, cold, wet and windy. We stayed with friends of my parents who were keen on boating, and who offered to take us out on the lake. Despite my reservations about boats and water, it sounded like it would be fun.

So off we went, three girls in a small boat on a big lake. We sailed about for a while, rain soaked, wind in our hair, before my French friend decided it was too cold and wanted to go back to sit in the car.

The boat, expertly handled by our family friend, was manoeuvred close to shore, and we were told to jump out. So, I jumped, and found myself in rather deep water unable to feel the lake bed. Stupidly, I had not checked to see on which side of the boat the land lay and had jumped out the wrong side. Before I managed to think, the sail was caught by the wind and our little boat started to head out towards the middle of the lake with me clinging to the side wondering whether or not to let go.

We sailed back towards the shore and shallower water, and to my relief a complete stranger waded out to grab me. At this point, it is worth bearing in mind that my family were on dry land watching, and that not one of them thought to come to my rescue, they were laughing too hard. The other thing to note, is that I was the only person who had gone to the lake without a change of clothes, so I had an extremely soggy afternoon until we arrived back at the house.

The moral of the story? Look before you leap.

Born Too Late?

I read. A lot. I have recently been reading about the search for the Northwest Passage, that illusive path through the frozen seas of the Arctic which links the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. For centuries, this search became almost an obsession for sailors, explorers and governments alike. Despite the dangers of seeking the passage, which it was hoped would become an important trade route, men happily volunteered to sail on ships which were completely inadequate to cope with the rigours of Arctic exploration, not to mention lack of suitable clothing, and supplies which either went rancid or ran out before their journey ended. This obsession cost lives. The last expedition by Sir John Franklin alone, which set sail in 1845, cost the lives of 129 men.

It made me think. Are there any such mysteries left to solve? Everest has been climbed, the Northwest Passage sailed (Roald Amundsen 1903 - 1906, the globe has been circumnavigated, the Poles conquered, the Silk Routes travelled more than once, the source of the Nile discovered. What is left?

It also made me wonder about the people who took it upon themselves to risk their lives to explore the globe. What makes someone leave the safety of their home to travel into the unknown in search of something which may or may not exist? Ordinary men and women with an amazing spirit of adventure packed a bag or two and set off to experience hardships, dangers and deprivation, often for years at a time, not knowing if they would ever see home again.

So, why did they do it? Was it the spirit of adventure, money or the possibility of covering themselves in glory that persuaded these extraordinary people to go off exploring? Perhaps it was a mixture of all three.

What of now? If there were any such routes to find, who would go looking? I would love to think that I would have the courage required, but how easy would it be to leave everything I know and head off into the unknown? 

I do, sometimes, think that I would like to have been born a century earlier (except that I would probably have been below stairs), and to have the opportunity to go off and find something new. Imagine how it would feel to have been the first explorer to see Niagara Falls or Grand Canyon, to have been Johann Ludwig Burckhardt re-discovering Petra, a city which had been lost to the west for centuries. How he must have been in awe walking past the huge jinn blocks and down the narrow Siq and suddenly coming face-to-face with The Treasury carved deep into the pink rock. How I would love to have made a discovery like that, if only I had the courage to do it.