Tuesday (29/5): So, now I’m sitting in the bus, leaving Whiskey Creek. I feel sad. I didn’t want to go. I could have stayed with Lori for the rest of the summer, eating chicken and eggs and played with Tango and cuddled with the baby chicks and made apple pie and rhubarb sauce.
But, at the same time, I want to continue on my journey. If the bus isn’t too late, I’ll make it to the ferry from Victoria to Port Angeles, where I’ll spend one day hiking in the Olympic National Park – and after that, I’m meeting up with Hanna in Seattle. She has just turned in her Bachellor’s thesis and is flying across both an ocean and a continent to go on a two and a half week roadtrip down the US west coast with me. I’m really excited about that, and feel completely torn between these mixed up emotions.
But I guess that’s the risk you have to take when you go traveling like this. The chance that you might fall in love with a place is always there. You are never safe. And unless you’re ready to uproot your entire life, you always have to move on.
Katja Malmborg 