Overdue

March 26th - A Tuesday

Back in the huts with nothing but the woods and mountains to keep you company. Nah, you still have Drew and Jack. They're cool guys. I cannot tell you whether or not these two girls also staying in the hut are speaking Hebrew or Arabic. Either way, they're loud as hell. It's my final run. I leave in a week. I will already be in the air as a matter of fact. I miss the climbing in Wanaka. I'm excited about this hike. In a way, I already miss it. I know that I will soon be deprived of all of this; all of this sheer wildness. Not to be confused with scary wildness, but the kind that makes things unpredictable. The wilderness will be missed too. But who am I kidding? I'm excited about coming back. I like New Zealand, no doubt, but I miss the States. Most of all, I miss everyone in it.



March 29th - A Friday

Vomit. It's just a nasty word, right? Yuck. Having all of those delicious, nice things to eat only to throw them up in some scrambled, nasty mess. That's how I feel about my scribbling. I've been doing so much, hearing so much, seeing so much, and feeling so much that it's hard to truly convey the beauty of it all; all of the memories, all of the happiness, all of the sadness, and everything in between. Must it be found only to be forgotten? Lost in a world of continuous thought only to be retraced at the most inopportune time crashing against the mind in great waves of emotion and feeling? Whatever. Now that that's over, let me recount the adventura of late: walking along Robert Ridge, seeing Golden Bay, meeting that 1000 year old man, climbing that 18 clean, climbing that other 18 dirty, almost getting that 20, the small, but increasing in depth and duration, talks with Drew, the surmounting realization of how near you are to returning home, longing to stay, but yearning to leave; it's the final stretch. I'm nearly there.



March 31st - A Saturday

It's raining. The sun is attempting to shine, though I do not have much faith when staring at the looming squall. I'm crossing the Cook Straight. Apparently, it's quite treacherous waters capable of producing 40-50ft swell at a moments notice. She seems nice enough. I'm leaving the South Island. The ships horn just blew. I imagine it bidding farewell to the Marlborough sounds as it steers into the blank horizon. I just read "101 Sonnets." Some I really liked, but I don't believe I understand poetry. I don't know if I ever will understand poetry. Art with words. Painting with nothing but rhythm and words and stuff. I don't know; maybe it's not so different than music. With the random rays of light beaming down, the water changes from a dull grey to a vibrant teal. We slept in one of those coves last night. It was the last night that I will spend in a tent for the remainder of the trip. It's kind of sad that I'm leaving it. It's wild how powerfully violent and strong a wave is as it rises and falls upon the shore, yet, it brings so much peace and tranquility. It was so nice to sleep with  the wonderful ocean singing its lullaby. It sure beats the hell out of that crowded climbers campground. Don't get me wrong! It was a cool place. Would have been a bit cooler with a beer - perhaps several beers. My hands are brown and burnt, skinned and scratched, but they feel strong. I still wouldn't call myself a climber by any means. I'm heading back; running home. The return started in Picton. It will end in Mississippi. Being on this great carrier of people running across the carved straight makes me feel at ease. I think Marshall's love for the ocean has sank into my own skin. It's a writing day. An old fishing vessel is zipping by. Its old white hull stained with rust along with its large mast connected to the various pulleys and nets also seem comforting. How bout that for work? Of course it be hard! But man! Instant gratification, the salt on your lips, the wind in your hair? What a life. We're out of the sounds. The last pillar of grey and black rock with its green hat just passed the starboard side leaving nothing but an alternating grey and blue horizon. Enough of documenting this voyage. AN ALBATROSS! THAT WAS AN ALBATROSS! I cannot help but think that I betrayed this trip. Maybe not. I did learn a lot and that's what counts, right? I just wish my stomach and palate were not so spoiled. We have had a lot of pasta, though. Not great pasta, but noodles and plain Jane sauce out of a jar. We used to throw mushrooms in! But that was over a month ago. This is my longest entry yet. I fear that I am rambling. But when has rambling ever been so bad, ay?

April 2nd - A Tuesday

Coffee is a wonderful thing. They call it a long black, my drink; two shots of espresso topped of with hot water. Though, if it is not good coffee, I suppose it would be quite terrible. The best thing about it is after a sleepless night on the bus, sunrise ramblings through terminals, and one book down, I still have the energy, no, desire to write! I'm coming home today. It's 1:50 p.m. I board at 3:40 p.m. I've been here since 8, though. Yesterday and today have me feeling quite lazy. I always come back to that dilemma! Desperately desiring to laze, but hate the feeling of laziness. Bah! No matter. With my mind racing a million millennia a minute all in an attempt as to how I can keep myself busy once I get home, I half-way feel accomplished! Micah mentioned that I may not want to start working so soon, but I heartily disagree. My entire being is fixated upon it. I know that this wildly industrious energy will not last, but I intend on milking it for everything that it's worth. I need some money, damn't! For too long have I spent money without the proper means to repay. Yes, it was towards my edification, both in and out of the classroom, which, I suppose is more of an investment, but regardless! It's been one hell of a ride, but I'm ready. I'm ready to move on. Then again, that's what I've been doing in the first place? Moving on? Constant motion. That's what it's all about, I guess.

April 9th - A Tuesday

Mum

It's been one week since I landed in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I had cheap, Mexican food at midnight. It was excellent. This past week with my family has been nice. The life in rural Oklahoma is a slow one. Perhaps even Mississippi slow. Perhaps more? There is no more readjustment period. Coming here has solidified it. In the last several years, I have become so accustomed to picking up and going that by time I come home it feels as if I never left. Oh indeed, I am all the wiser, but never do I feel confused anymore about where I am. I believe that I have grown to love America very much like I have grown to love Mississippi; from the outside looking in. I look forward to getting to know my country better in the coming years. Am I scratching off foreign travel? Good Lord, no! I just need a little break, that's all. I have no idea where I'll turn up. Maybe it will be near the coast...any coast! Or the mountains...any mountains! I have applied to a few jobs that would require extensive foreign travel to Southeast Asia and the South Pacific. Hey, that be an adventure. In all reality, what I'm about to embark will be my greatest adventure, yet! Starting my life.