The idea of travel might be borne in the womb of fiction, soaked in fantasy – itineraries, destinations, favoured conditions, preferred situations, anticipation of certain kinds of experiences, expectations of making it and contentment, “share”able and marketable, and so on... all those things that might make travel “worthwhile” or fanciful.
However, when one finds oneself in the midst of the contrary, even while having embarked on a purposefully intended journey, one may realise that travel is not for one to ‘go out and attain’ but, instead, for one to first undo oneself off one’s pre-conceived assumptions. And, then, while on that journey, one might wish one had shed them off before beginning itself – would have been a jump-start in the evolution along the way.
“... I hope you meet people with a different point of view...” The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
You may walk out, neatly conserving the image of the horizon in your mind but, as you walk, might find dust in your weary face -- A spell of dry air cast under the scorching sun. Water might value no less than a miracle.
The film, Tracks
The dust isn’t “wrong”; it’s just that you’re a stranger to it.
These journeys are ones without the glamour (valid or invalid) that flows through the pages of Natgeo-type magazines and the likes. These are raw journeys, allowing no intervention from fantasy.
Travel fulfils fancy, as long as you’re in comfort; as soon as it challenges, it comes to reality. Reserved transport; stocked food; piled resources; calculated probabilities; determined limits; habitable weather conditions; aid; support systems, etc. We are no more wild, although the wilderness exists within us, pushing us towards it, but how equipped are we internally... with the ability, more than with equipment? With the ability to perceive the sandstorm heading towards us beyond a sign of being consumed, or the engulfing cold river beyond a declaration of being swallowed? Beyond limiting ourselves to the idea of ourselves. It’s not that we cannot be able, but have we desired to be, or do we only bask in the idea of having “travelled”, endorsed by our systematically prearranged resources, content to simply sniff the rapture than embrace it totally? The equipment, while enabling us, has also impaired us – only by our doing. How can we expect to find our expression when we’ve securely anchored ourselves to the post! Isn’t the lasso supposed to be malleable... dissolvable.