On the road, things don't always go according to plan. To say I set off on this journey with no plan wouldn't exactly be correct, more like I had very few plans, aside from hitchhiking several thousand miles south to the end of the world. Along the way I had planned: to make new friends, take an epic ferry ride through the Chilean fjords, complete a two-day walk bridging one of the world's most remote border crossings, hit the world's southernmost brewery and distillery, and write a short post each night with a blurb about my day. The rest; the routes, the sights, the time, etc., etc., were all to the wind.
Well, so far I have made very few friends, I'm lonely, the 32 hour boat ride was raining and mostly covered in fog, I'm hearing rumors that the border crossing I've been looking forward to is closed, and it's been next to impossible to write a short, daily message. I've reached a point I need to make some decisions, and will likely miss epic parts of this journey I had so looked forward too. So I think now is a good time to reassess, starting with these posts.
There are two reasons writing this has been difficult. The first and most obvious is that I've had very little connectivity. However the second reason is the catalyst for this change... There's just so much I want to write. In this day and age of short-form content like Tik Tok and Instagram Reels, I've found myself limiting my words, trying to keep things quick, thinking that otherwise no one will read them. I guess you can say it's the inner marketer in me. But the truth is I always know that at least my Dad is reading, and that's all I need to know to continue writing. Not to mention, it's therapeutic, and ultimately one of the biggest reasons I'm actually making this adventure.
I want to write.
So with that said, I'm throwing out all the original rules. Apologies if you signed up to receive a short, daily message as I had originally stated. That shit just ain't happening. From now on, I'm going to write as often as I can, hopefully 2-3 times per week, and I have no idea how much or how little I will write. But I promise to do my best to tell you my stories, and not just provide quick updates that I feel have been somewhat meaningless for both you and for me. I want to tell you about the signs that guide me, the people I meet, the smells of the strange foods I encounter, and yes, the difficulties this journey brings. Yesterday I passed a girl on the street wearing a t-shirt that simply said, "Go left." And for some reason I haven't stopped thinking about that.
So where am I at? What am I doing? How am I feeling? I'm feeling a bit stuck, shipwrecked, if you will. While maybe I don't know this story, I have lived stories like it, and I know that I'm at the difficult stage. In the beginning everything is full of the travel of magic, where everything flows easily and there are no worries about the bends in the river. There are no thoughts of the rapids ahead. But just when you effortlessly veer around the corner, BOOM! Class 6 rapids. There is no possibility of stopping and the route you had imagined isn't there. You only have moments to decide how to navigate, not knowing what is ahead. You quickly survey the landscape ahead of you, pausing only for a fraction of a second. But that fraction of a second feels eternal, and you know that if you don't start paddling all is doomed. This is where you must overpower the mind, let instinct guide your decision, and paddle like all hell.
As I write this I'm somewhere in that fraction of a second. Plan A is out. There is no Plan B. But I just have to paddle, trusting that the magic of travel will return and guide me. I don't fret. I can't. I don't have time, or else I will analyze all of the alternative options to death and never make a move. I recognize that it sounds silly to be on such an epic journey, to be out in the world seeing and doing things that so many will never experience, and yet to be contemplating my decisions. But that's the truth that lies behind a journey like this, and perhaps I just need the therapy of writing that down. We'll get through it, together. Because I also know what lies on the other end of this part of the story, and that is what I'm chasing.
When your compass is pointed toward the unknown you can't set expectations. You just have to keep going and trust in the process, learn a little something new about yourself, and remember it's about the journey... then paddle til your arms hurt. So today we make some changes, together. At least you and me, Dad. Go left.
See you out there,
J. James
