I was one of those lucky kids whose parents took them camping every summer break. Now to context that statement, long rides in a cramped vehicle drive me insane. It was always she’s touching me, and are we there yet. As a ginger before SPF 60 I would smolder and smoke in direct sun light; so I was not allowed to leave the camper from 12pm-5pm. I watched as other kids rode bikes and swam while I took extended classes to combat dyslexia. I would complain but reading and writing is so much better than melanoma.
Those long distance family vacations sort of ruined me for road trips. Oh to have the transporter system from Star Trek… I hate driving. As we approached Dallas the traffic came to a screeching halt. An inch worm mocked us at it passed by and I’m pretty sure a slug flipped us off as he cut into our lane. A day of driving only to camp beside a lake which looked like every other lake in South East Texas.
The next morning miles clicked on the odometer as we passed through flat land dotted with cotton fields. The occasional Windmill and a random lone cow was all that stood above the scrub brush and tumble weed. In the middle of nowhere miles from civilization was yet another ADULT MOVIE STORE. There were so many of them spaced out over this empty terrain. Does anyone actually rent adult movies? Sadly isn’t pornography how the “internet” pays the bills? When I imagined the Texas panhandle there were less ADULT MOVIE STORES, and more……. well…..anything but ADULT MOVIE STORES.
Driving into Caprock was deceiving the land is so flat and empty Lauren and I began to fear this was one of those parks with one cool rock formation that on the website they show from different angles. Just as I was falling into a loathing pit of despair there was a canyon the depth and size of which exceeds description. Filled with mountains whose peaks stood level with the canyon walls. It is said of Caprock that there are mountains in the valleys. I admit this statement seems a bit ignorant, that is until you stand upon the edge of Caprock Canyons. The colors are unrealistic as if someone had literally painted the rock and sand. A small herd of buffalo approached our van. Not behind a fence, not controlled, but roaming freely within the park. As they grazed I felt a bit of Texas pride, followed by a bit of fear as a large male looked at my camera and began snorting.
Two days into our trip but I didn’t feel a since of adventure until that moment. This left me questioning, why can’t I enjoy the trip, the travel, the roadside attractions, the hum of the tires. I envy those who love the open road. I live for the mountains, the waterfall, the swamp, the long kayak paddles, and the trail head. I only wish I could enjoy the process of getting there; for I fear my daily life is miscued in the same manner. I am always looking for the next goal, the next challenge,but often missing the wonder in each day. If my actions are the outward expression of my heart, then climbing mountains, winning kayak races, hiking back country, and sharing this in text and photos only account for my weekends and vacations. I am left to wonder if at times I am living for the mountain and not the journey?