As I drove home from Tennessee on Monday in the pouring rain, my thoughts wandered to this little blog and how I would ever be able to capture this past weekend with words on a page.
Bonnaroo was life-altering: that's the only way to put it.
For those who have never been, Bonnaroo is a five day music and arts festival in Manchester, TN. where you camp, eat, sleep and vibe with 80,000+ people - and I've never felt more connected to those around me.
The theme of the festival is "radiate positivity" and this seeps into every aspect of the five days: from the stream of high fives on the way into centeroo, shouts of "happy Roo!" at every turn, and the general compassion, friendliness and kindness of every single person I encountered along the way.
I've come away from the weekend with some much needed life perspective, new friends scattered across North America and a playlist full of music to transport me back to that time and place whenever I'm feeling low.
Bonnaroo, you're magic. I can't wait to be back at the farm in 357 days.
The Arch
High fives into Centeroo
My favourite graffiti from the weekend
The perfected Roo-look: temporary tattoos, sunburn, water, beer and toilet paper!
Mumford & Sons - Just Smoke (Why do I keep falling) I thought we were done
(Why do I keep falling) And young love would keep us young
Lately I've been thinking a lot about the curious passage of time: I started this blog to chronicle my twenty-fifth year, and all the highs and lows along the way. Maybe because of this acute awareness, more and more I'm finding my mind aimlessly drifts back to the unavoidable truth that (gasp!) my twenties won't last forever.
I won't be this young ever again.
The rational part of my mind recognizes that it can't be all bad, getting old, but it's a hard fear to shake. When I was younger I always dreamed of being twenty-something and living in a big city surrounded by friends and family. Today, especially these past few months, this childhood fantasy has become real. I'm so grateful. But I'm also terrified that life will never be this good again.
Is this a fallacy of youth? Perhaps.
And yet it feels very real. So, with this in mind, I want to be make more of an effort to capture some moments that have really stood out for me lately. I want to write them down. I want to bottle these feelings. I want to have this collection of moments to come back to.
Standing at the summit of the Cup and Saucer Trail on Manitoulin Island with my two best friends as we looked out across the endless wilderness below. Feeling accomplished and strong and unbelievably happy to have those girls with me.
Sitting at the rock beach on the French River: letting myself feel happy and full in that moment, even knowing that that particular brand of happiness may be temporary. Having the guts to enjoy it anyway.
Laying on the floor of a hotel room at 5:00 am with a new friend, exchanging tales of our lives, as the Saskatoon sun rose outside the window. How much sense everything made that sleepless night. How sometimes people come into your life and give you exactly what you need.
Sitting next to my new friend, Sofie, on the St. Clair streetcar heading westbound in the rain on a Sunday afternoon. How we couldn't stop giggling about our matching hats. This is the moment when I knew with certainty that this girl would be a lifelong friend.
Down in the valley with
Whiskey rivers
These are the places you will find me hidin'
These are the places I will always go
These are the places I will always go
I am on my way
I am on my way
I am on my way back to where I started
I listened to this song with the windows rolled down as I drove through the city last night, crazy-exhausted and crazy-happy after a four day road trip around Southern Ontario. Three of us headed out early Friday morning for the Bruce Peninsula and beyond. And then followed four days of muddy trails, lake-side-sunsets, bonfires and roasted marshmallows, getting lost and getting lost again, beers on the dock, black flies, sunshine, too-cold lake water and pristine blue skies.
The Grotto, Bruce Peninsula National Park, Tobermory, ON.
Safety first, kids.
Sun's out guns out? Finger guns that is!
After a rainy Friday afternoon we boarded the MS Chi-Cheemaun ferry for Manitoulin Island and stayed in a small two-bedroom cottage just south of Little Current. Exhausted from the day spent driving in the rain it was early to bed. Saturday morning our patience paid off as we were greeted by blue skies and sunshine. We packed a picnic, put on our hiking shoes and headed out for the trails.
Cup and Saucer Trail, Manitoulin Island.
Never leave home without a selfie stick.
The aptly named Misery Bay Provincial Park.
The alvar! Misery Bay, Manitoulin Island
#GIRLROADTRIP
Sunset over Lake Huron
On day three we said goodbye to Manitoulin Island and hit the road north to Sudbury, Ontario where we visited to iconic Big Nickle and took an appropriate number of selfies. Then it was on to the French River, where we joined some friends for
a night of camping on one of the many islands in the region. The good
weather stuck around so we enjoyed some beers on the dock and went for a
swim. When the sun went down we built a bonfire, someone played the
guitar and we all sang along. There was no moon, only the stars in the
sky were privy to our midnight show.
A quick stop at the Big Nickle in Sudbury, ON.
The French River
Went for a "walk" across the island and climbed over many boulders.
A shot in front of the car at the French River marina.
I don't want to end this with some grandiose statement about traveling and how it changes you. Instead, I'll just say how nice it is to get away with truly awesome people. How much fun it can be to pack up the car and just drive - to leave the city behind. How important it is to live in the moment.
My sides hurt from laughing for four days straight, my finger nails are full of dirt and I've got bug bites up and down both my legs. I'm exhausted from a lack of sleep but I feel full and happy. I want to bottle this feeling, save it for when I get caught up in the day-to-day grind. I want to remember what it's like to drive around Ontario with close friends and how possible everything felt while we did.
When I started this blog, travel was one of the things I wanted to do more of this year. It's only May, but the the first of many summer road trips is already behind me and I can't wait to carry this momentum forward and keep exploring.
I wanna talk about how the air was that oppressive, heavy kind; the kind that envelopes around you and condensates on your back and in your hair. The kind before a storm. I ran through the city like an ocean wave: constant, bursting with momentum, propelled forward by the moon in the sky. Streetlamps shattered the illusion of nighttime, but only a few aimless cars filled the streets. It was 3 am and the city and I were alone. Vance Joy played through my ear buds, a cheap dollar store pair that crackled off key.
Oh, and they come unstuck
I was four blocks from home and I could taste you already. The last text you sent me read "playing banjo on your porch". Six minutes had passed since then, and I flew through the streets with desire and resolve. My heart beat beat beat in my chest but my legs propelled me forward anyway."You're a runner, right?" you'd teased on the phone, when it became clear you'd beat me back to my apartment. Tonight I was more than a runner: I was a midnight dance full of late-night wanting. I was a force to be reckoned with.
Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I skipped up my porch steps, where you sat bathed in light with a smirk on your face. Riptide started playing so I went with it and danced. You took one of my ear buds and joined me. It was three in the morning and the city was asleep but the two of us danced to music only we could hear. We were silhouetted by the streetlights; we were happy and young. The stale April heat threatened to burst as lighting flashed overhead.
I love you when you're singing that song and
I got a lump in my throat 'cause
You're gonna sing the words wrong
And I kept singing the words wrong and you laughed and did the wolf cry Ahooooooooo and it didn't matter that we might be temporary, or that this could be the best of us. Come morning the spell would be broken and we'd cease to be invincible so we'd better live now. We stumbled up the stairs and clothes scattered everywhere. Curtains were drawn and candles were lite and we carved out our own forever as the sun slept and the thunder rumbled outside.
My first month in my new place has come and gone - the 700 square feet of hardwood floors, white washed walls and sun-filled windows are starting to feel like a real home. The sound of the train rattling by is a homey comfort, and I've stopped hearing the sound the bus makes when it stops outside my apartment. All in all, I'm loving it: my first solo apartment is everything I hoped it would be, and more. Here are some highlights from the past few weeks:
Some tulips in bloom to celebrate the start of Spring
"People alter their lives by altering their attitudes" - Sage advice spotted in the bathroom at Lee's Palace
I'm doing lots of baking and cooking to fill my apartment with delicious smells
The Franklin Electric absolute killing it at a sold out show at The Drake Hotel
Moving Forward:
April means the return of Spring (she says, as it rains and hovers around zero degrees outside) and with Spring comes trail running. In just over two weeks I'll compete in my first trail race of the season! Am I ready to face the torturous hills, muddy paths and grueling terrain? Only time will tell. In the meantime I've got to embrace the mild(er) temperatures, lace up my runners and clock some decent kilometers so I can go out and give it my all come race day.
I've also decided to enroll in a creative writing class, through the continuing studies program at a local university. One thing this blog has shown me is how much I value time to write: but I sometimes lack the motivation and dedication to make it an every day (or even every week) practice. I'm hoping this course will bring me back to basics and give me the chance to stretch my creative imagination. Having a reason to write, and time carved out in my schedule for writing each week, will hopefully help me find my writer's voice again.
