Young and Against the Current

“Let there be a vaulted dome in the midst of the waters, 

and let it cause a separation between the waters.” -Genesis 1:6

A hazy line, which one could deem as the horizon, lie on the distant, deep ocean before me as I stared at the junction of sky and water. One lending its dull blue-grey hue over to the next. My feet solid on dry ground—the following scene in God’s Creation story aforementioned—but my mind wandered out to sea.

Lost, but with purpose; solidarity of mind and body.

What did that feel like?

I could only create my own assumptions from the logs of seafarers past. What was the world like when vessels were not powered by steam nor engine. In the days of Joshua Slocum, the horizon must have seemed endless.

Hopeful but also hopeless.

Boats always against the current. In search of that elusive future—that distant shore.

Deep sea. A place where one could rest and find solace in the peace of the air and the calm of the blue sky above.

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The dreary mood of the early morning burned away by the still rising sun and the cooking of oatmeal in a pot set upon a bed of ancient lava rock. A bottle of wine to send the ½ cup packet of oats down. And why not? What other drink would best suit three wanderers besides an aluminum chalice of blue ribbon beer, a taste I am not fond of and which lent to the purchase of bottled beverages instead.

For in our field of solid lava, we are young— a direct contradictory to the igneous rock beneath our feet. The crashing waves beat against the cliff walls, percussion for our morning. Drums of the deep— glacial blue waters cast into pure white sea foam above our heads. Engulfed but not drenched.

We were soaked from the night before, however. Plans never made to begin with had to be remade, our options endless but ludicrous each in their own way. Like sardines we kept one another warm in our sleep the night before, though only I can attest to both warmth and dryness. Only accomplished through the sacrifice of comfort by my tent-mates.

We experienced. Laughed hysterically at nothing. Acted like children. Walked with fervor amongst the old bones of a violent volcano. We lived. Explorers in our own right. Christopher McCandless wrote while on his final life journey, “Happiness is only real when shared.” And nothing could be more true. I experienced it—the feeling of happiness, contentment amongst good company. What use are 50 foot waves crashing above you, salt water rushing to your feet, birds soaring above, or sheer cliff drop-offs to steal your breath away—what use for these things if you cannot experience them amongst friends?

“Friendship brings people close no matter how great the distance between them.”

I know them now. Our steps one after the other as we hiked. New pieces of their story falling into mine. Different backgrounds, interests, families, opinions, but one goal in mind—to familiarize ourselves with this world. To see places unbeknownst to our eyes until now. Leave home, sail away. We are those pioneers of old. Responsible only to ourselves. Our frontier before us—Hazy and grey. And a horizon sits far in the distance and is what we work for. We row on, beating the current, breaking free.

Becoming who we are meant to be.

“Two paths [rivers] diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, 

and that has made all the difference.” -Robert Frost