Of Mist And Lakes And Roads That Only Go Up

I woke to a strange sound, it was the sound of utter silence.  For those first few moments on waking, peace and quiet held rein and I was loathe to disturb them.  I eased myself out of my sleeping bag, unzipped the fly sheet of the tent and peeked out.  The sight that greeted me was not the one I had been hoping for, nor the one I had been expecting, this was even better.

It took a few moments for my eyes to perceive and for my sleepy brain to comprehend what it was that I was seeing.  Instead of an early morning sun shining brightly down onto the waters of the lake and the forests and hills across in the distance, I was presented with a veil of a grey misty nothing.  The mist had descended during the night and now it blanketed everything.  The air was completely still.  It was not the leaves on the trees that proved it to me, it was the surface of the lake that was a sheet of silky, smooth, glass with not a single ripple or movement to be seen.  This morning was as perfectly still as one could hope to find.

The misty morning at Lake Maraetai, Mangakino

The stillness of the morning was soon disrupted by the arrival of the first of a continuous stream of cars, people and boats, all coming down to make use of the lake on a Sunday morning.  It did not matter, I needed to be up and away and on my way to Taupo.  The owner of the Bus Stop Cafe, literally a bus at the lakeside, had informed me that the road to Taupo would be a continuous, uphill gradient, but I was sceptical.  Roads that go up, always must go down I reassured myself.  With only 50km to cycle, I was looking forward to an easy day, so I was not in a particular rush to get on the bike, choosing to stay for a coffee and watch the wake boarding action and all the comings and goings around the lake before I set off.

The road went up.  And up.  And up.  At least it felt that way.  It was not steep by any means, rather a gentle gradient that slowly and surely sapped the strength out of the legs.  But this was not to be the biggest problem of the late morning.  The wind, that was non-existent in the early morning stillness, was now gusting and worse still, it was gusting into me and across me.  It was the wind, that seemingly ever present demon of my travels, that sapped the energy out of me and drained my morale.  It was impossible to gain any kind of momentum and between wind and hills, I tired quickly.  I tried not to look at my cycle computer because I knew it made for depressing reading, just another thing to reduce my morale still further.  My easy ride?  Huh!

I stopped for lunch and a break after 25km and it was needed.  As I sat atop a gatepost, eating my way through a still warm and utterly delicious steak and mushroom pie, I planned the road ahead.  I would cycle 10km more, then stop again, then another 10km, stop, and finally I could push out the final 5km or so into Taupo.  Back on the bike, I started off once more, cursing the wind, cursing the hills, shouting to no one, yelling to everyone, but my voice was carried away to fade out and disappear, to become lost, the way that I was feeling out here on my own amongst the fields, the sparse trees and the brown hills of  dry summer.

As I reach that next 10km mark, I pushed on.  I told myself that if I can get through 2km more, it will put me 2km further down the road, and 2km closer to Taupo and my goal.  I pushed on though.  As I reached 40km for the day, everything changed.  The road began to descend through some pine forest that sheltered me from the wind and my speed picked up.  I had barely managed 18km/h all day and here I was flying along at close to 40km/h.  At one point, as I glanced down at my cycle computer to see 54km/h, I let out my own barbaric yawp, a yawp of which Whitman would have been proud.   I was fast closing in on Taupo and knew that I would not stop again this day.  There was one final kick though, a sharp, steep hill to climb up and over, so I put my head down, dropped down the gears, found a rhythm and pumped it through.  On a bike, it does not matter how slow you go uphill, all that matters is that you find the right gear, you find that rhythm, and you pass the test.  Every hill is my own personal Mont Ventoux, my own Alpe d'Huez.

At the top of that final hill, I knew I had passed all the tests that the day had given me.  Lake Taupo was ahead of me, its water choppy, dark and wholly uninviting, and there was the town nestled by the shore.  I had made it through another day and I knew that tomorrow I did not have to climb back into the saddle.  For that, both I and my backside were eternally grateful.

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Broken Promises And A Change Of Plans

Never before have I experienced a betrayal of my trust, kindness and openness, which has left me feeling both stupid and foolish, as I have in the last days.  To say I'm flummoxed would be putting it mildly.  It has not only affected me on an emotional level, it affects all of my plans for New Zealand.  I've been left needing to make cancellations and re-bookings, and to rearrange my plans and itinerary accordingly, incurring some inevitable financial loss.  But what of the cost to my heart and my ability to openly trust in people?  Is that a far greater price that I am going to pay?

Everything happened in a whirlwind.  We met, we connected and we began the process of getting to know each other.  Very quickly, we fell into talking openly and candidly about our lives and our past experiences.  It was clear that we shared much in common, in particular a love of travel and the way that we viewed life, and the more that we became acquainted and got to know each other, I couldn't help but wonder how bizarre it was that we could possibly be so alike.  It was as if this woman was my twin, my mirror image in character, thought and life experience.  This was the basis on which we decided to meet again, to become travel companions, and after much discussion of possible destinations, New Zealand was agreed on as our destination.

Very quickly, everything was set, the plans were made and the itinerary worked out.  Between us, all of the key components were booked.  Transportation: buses, ferry, and car rental.  Accommodation: hotels, motels and campsites.  Activities: hiking, swimming with wild dolphins, skydiving, kayaking, ice climbing.  All of it was reserved.  Despite being separated by both time and distance, it had been an easy process to put together, making use of internet messaging, email and Skype calls, each one of us progressing an item while the other slept.  More evidence of our compatibility.  This was going to be an epic adventure, a dream trip and this time, I neither of us would be making it alone.

Then, completely abruptly and with no warning, it stopped.  One day, everything was fine and then it wasn't.  One day we were in communication, discussing through messages which type of sleeping bag would be most suitable, and then nothing.  Not even the crackle of static.  Just absolute silence.  A silence that lasted for two weeks.  No explanation, no word, nothing.  It was as though she had fallen off the face of the planet.  I attempted to make contact, to make sure that she was okay, that nothing sinister had occurred, but there was no response.  I grew concerned, who wouldn't?  She was living and working in one of the world's most dangerous countries.  Anything could have happened to her.  After two weeks of this silence, I wrote another email asking that she could please let me know she was okay, and if she could also let me know if our planned trip to New Zealand was on or off?  Finally I received an email response.  It contained one word: Off.

It is hard to fathom what has happened and I am not going to try.  I have some ideas but to try to rationalise this and make sense of it is a waste of time.  I will find no answer, I will never know.  The facts are the facts.  I do not believe it is healthy for me to try to figure this out.  The old me would have done exactly that.  I would have languished in the hurt, sorrow, self-pity and self-loathing.  I would have replayed conversations and actions over and over and I would have looked for signs and hidden meanings in them.  I would have clung on in desperation to the past, burying my fingers in its cracks, feeling the need to hold on to all that once was, as if to let go, would be to fall into a void of nothingness, in which I would lose myself.

Even during the two weeks of silence, I was surprised at my relative calmness.  I've experienced this wall of silence before, I've known women who have raised protective barriers around themselves, shutting out their heart, keeping it from becoming hurt.  When this happened, I would become like a caged animal, prowling, snarling, testing for weaknesses, not understanding why the bars prevented me from reaching my goal.  It would frustrate me, cause anger, and it would drive me a little insane.  The longer it continued, the more focused on it I would become.  This time there was none of that.  I'm not suggesting the silence was for those same reasons, but whatever the cause of it, the affect is the same.  I did not overreact, I just let things be, content to continue with my life, making the plans for my cycle tour of New Zealand, working my last days in Costa Rica, carrying on with my life.  The times that I did reach out and try to make contact, were from a genuine concern for her safety.     

What have I learned from all of this?  That is what I look for now.  It is more important that I take from this episode of my life some lesson and meaning for my life, than it is to spend time looking back at what might have been.  Perhaps that is the first of my realisations.  I no longer dwell in the past.  Since I began my true journey and since setting out my thoughts in this blog, I am more focused on the present moment and in what lies ahead.  My days of looking backwards are gone.  The past brought me to now, but it is in the now that I am able to make a difference, a difference that will affect my future to come.  The focus needs to be on now, this moment in which I exist, and by living that moment, I take one more step along my path.  Only the dead reside in the past because they have no future.

In that past, I would have looked for an action that I took, some words that I had spoken, even some words that I had left unsaid, and I would have felt at fault for what had happened, as if in some way, I was to blame.  But how could it be my fault and even more than that, why should it be my fault?  Every person has free will.  Every person is an extremely complex mix of experiences, emotions and inherited traits.  I am no different, just as you are no different.  If someone goes quiet and introspective, that doesn't mean that I am the cause of it.  If someone stops communicating and disappears, it is not my fault.  I have spent far too much of my life in the belief that I am no good and as a result of this, I have assumed myself to be the cause of every problem, every moment of silence, every pause in conversation, every miscommunication, every misunderstanding.  And I'll take this thought further.  If someone is not interested in me, if someone does not love me in the way that I love them, then that cannot be my fault either.  All I can be is myself.  It is either a right match or it is not.  It has never been, nor will it ever be, a fault on my part. 

That is what I have learned, but where does all of this leave me and my own plans?  I am still going ahead with my cycle tour of New Zealand.  That has not changed, it was always my own adventure and as such, will remain my own adventure.  I need to make changes in light of what has happened to dates and times, and to my planned route.  Everything has been affected by what has happened.  The details will follow in a new post shortly.  My immediate focus has needed to be on fixing the mess that was created by the broken promise of someone that I trusted.  That done, I can turn my attention back to bringing my dream into reality.  A dream that was always about me, a bike and the road.

I'll finish this post with one last thought.  It is a vow for life, a vow that I make now, and for each day that is to come:-

"I do not need someone else to make my life complete.  I do not need the love of another to make me whole.  For I am love.  I was born perfect and I shall remain perfect.  Since I already walk my path with love, I do not walk my path to seek love.  I walk my path to seek life.  And it is in life that I shall find all that I wish." ~ Andrew M.Smith

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