Mother nature reminds us mere mortals once again that we are at her mercy. We may have dodged Hurricane Harvey in Southwest Louisiana, but we have not escaped the repercussions of this disastrous storm. Our “almost Banff turned New Hampshire” trip has been cancelled, due to the fact that we can’t fly out of Houston (as originally scheduled) and there were no good options out of New Orleans. That & the fact that our own city might see some serious flooding if this rain doesn’t let up.
I could sit here feeling sorry for myself & racked by guilt for feeling this way while loved ones in Texas are experiencing such devastation, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll share our “not-to-be” Labor Day trip to New Hampshire in hopes that someone may enjoy a beautiful hike in the White Mountains.
I might have mentioned at some point that I have a travel addiction. That’s not an exaggeration. I am truly a travel junkie. You want to know how I know? Because the first thing I do upon returning from a trip is…[you guessed it]…start planning the next one! Eric is just as guilty. On a recent drive home from Alabama, Eric said
let’s go somewhere for Labor Day!
Keep in mind, we’ve already got a 2-week trip planned to Germany & Austria this fall, PLUS a weekend getaway to Chicago in October. But apparently we need our fix sooner than that. So, I start looking at hiking options in Banff National Park.
We were only on the Dingle Peninsula for 8 days, but when we took the bus back to Shannon Airport it felt like we were leaving roots behind. At the Boston Airport, we were immediately barraged by news coverage of the 2016 presidential campaign. Eric and I’s instincts were screaming at us to “go back!”
By the end of our vacations we’re usually ready to go home. But this trip was different. It was the longest vacation we had ever taken and it was in a place far removed from our home and workplace. We had very little exposure to the outside world (no TV, little internet) and the bulk of our trip was spent outdoors in remote locations. The people of Dingle ran the gamut of jolly, content and cantankerous — but they all seemed to have a peace about them…a sense that they were happy with their place in life.
Transitioning from this to our busy, consumer-driven American life was like stepping out of a paradise directly into a war zone. I was shell-shocked.
But by far the most life-changing part of the trip was the TYPE of travel. Relying solely on our feet to take us from destination to destination was such a wonderful way to experience another place. The itinerary showcased the best landscapes and town life, and the inns were all unique and charming. We felt like pilgrims, not tourists, and there is a BIG difference between the two.
A pilgrim concerns themselves with the journey, while the tourist concerns themselves with the sights and experiences.
I’ve always known I didn’t like high tourist destinations, but I never knew how much I could enjoy entire days of seeing absolutely nothing that would be covered in a travel guide. I mean come on, no one would buy copies of Fodor’s if their top suggestions were walking through pastures with sheep and small towns with limited dining and potty options. But when you remove the touristy sights, you’re left with the “normal” and that’s when you feel like a local. And THAT kind of travel is my drug of choice — I simply can’t get enough.
