This past year was like no other. Like almost everywhere else in the world, my husband Barry’s and mine life slowed down. But despite – or perhaps because of – all the limitations, it was an opportunity to reflect, and so I learned nine lessons about travel.
1. Travel is a privilege, not a right
Before 2020, traveling was a matter of course for me. But while Barry and I stayed near our home, I thought about other restrictions on travel – political, security, economic, environmental. For example, Japan and South Korea do not allow North Koreans to enter their countries, nor does Ukraine allow male Russians between the ages of 16 and 60 to enter. Israel only allows Palestinians through militarized checkpoints.
Then there are people who cannot afford to travel. I have never forgotten what Barry and I heard in the Republic of Georgia when we visited the capital Tbilisi in 2000, a year after the country gained independence from the former USSR. “We used to have money but no freedom to travel,” we were told. (During the Soviet era, Odessa, a Black Sea resort town, was a domestic tourist destination that made a lot of money). “Now”, the people said aptly, “we have freedom, but no money” because their currency was worth very little on world markets.
And sometimes it is dangerous to travel, like in Sarajevo after that Bosnian civil war, if you are a little outside the city limits yourself, you could step on a land mine. Or during the Years of drug trafficking in Colombia, where we were told that Medellín residents could not leave the city for fear of kidnapping or shooting. And in our own country it is Black lives count Movement has raised our awareness that movement alone, let alone traveling, can pose a high risk for people of color.
Barry Evans
2. Local travel rocks!
Barry and I mostly travel to distant places like Europe and Latin America. Since this was not possible last year, we stayed on site – we had no choice. i was grateful our mobile home gave us the freedom to explore, and that we were not as restricted in a rural county as friends who lived in cities that were legally not allowed to travel more than 5 miles from home during part of the year.
We live in Eureka, on the north coast of California, a region with natural beauty in all directions. During the year we would explore Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, an hour north of Eureka and a half hour later, we would be staying right on the Pacific Ocean, minutes from a four-mile stretch of the California Coastal Walk. South of Eureka we visit the pastoral, foggy one Lost Coast Headlands and especially the Humboldt Redwoods State Park Grieg French Bell Grove, with its beautiful sorrel carpet.
Grieg-French-Bell Grove in Humboldt Redwoods State Park, California (Photo: Barry Evans)
Closer to home, my friend Robbie and I would meet and cycle along the recently completed Eureka Hikshari path.
3rd letter is nice
I’ve found that I don’t have to spend long in one place to be fed. Within 20 minutes of where we lived, I was visiting areas that I had never really explored and that I could only enjoy for an hour or less. I got to know the city park of Eureka, Sequoia Park, along with the new path system called McKay Community Forest, a bird watcher’s paradise, Fay Slough, and the Humboldt Botanical Garden.
Lost Coast Headlands (Photo: Barry Evans)
4. Remember the nurturing power of nature
Over the past year, nature has given me a deep sense of security. Although only a small percentage remains, the old coastal sequoias near where we live have survived for up to 1,500 years despite urban development, droughts, deforestation and forest fires. If they can survive, I remember, so can we.
And not just green areas, but “blue areas” or water. We live 1½ blocks from Humboldt Bay and on calm days Barry and I go out on the water, he in his kayak, I on my paddleboard to watch the seals; Check out (from a careful distance!) Our local sea lion Charlie resting on one of the marina docks; and paddle into the Eureka Slough, where I love to stroll through the narrow passageways that remind me of little back streets I used to cycle on in rural England. I never tire of exploring the dilapidated beauties of the bay, its bridges, sagging docks, stakes, jetties, marinas and faded fishing boats. Water is a different world.
5. Meeting strangers is part of the joy of traveling
For the past year, Barry’s and my conversations with people we met were limited to a few waitresses and cashiers. Last month, however, I noticed something unexpected on the beautiful while on a road trip through southern Oregon Whaleshead Beach, Part of that Samuel Boardman State Scenic Corridor. I had three conversations with strangers in half an hour: the first with a British woman who, like Barry, had moved to the United States almost 50 years ago; the second with a Utah barber I discussed this with geological beauties of southern Utah; and the third with a couple from central California, who thanked me for pointing out road works on Highway 101 that could result in long waits if they don’t plan their trip appropriately. Then I remembered how much fun it is to meet people on the go and chat freely and up close, free from external restrictions or internal fears. For me, it’s one of the great joys of traveling.
6. Travel and home are a dance
While I love to explore the world, this year I also deepened my appreciation for the sanctuary of my homeland. After an excursion we came back to our cozy apartment with a side view of the bay, its small, comfortable size and our mini jacuzzi. While we own a home in Guanajuato, a city in central Mexico, we have rented this apartment for 20 years. When we were moving in, I told a friend that it reminded me of the Russian apartment on the second floor where Lara in the film Dr. Zhivago was alive, complete with a large pot of soothing soup on the stove. Our house is far from elegant, but it feels very safe … a place where we can stay dry and warm, where we can eat, sleep, read, laugh and cry.
7. Expect the unexpected
In April 2020 we thought we were going to Portugal – which of course never happened and is still not in our plans. Instead we took 10 road trips in our van between April and November, never more than 200 miles from home. Nevertheless, it was one of the richest travel years of my life.
8. Giving back is where it goes
Because travel depends on the health of the earth, Barry and I are committed to doing our part to protect the planet. We do this by contributing to environmental organizations by Carbon offsetting for flights and by planting trees in Eureka and cleaning a river bed in Guanajuato.
9. Travel with humility
More than anything, this year reminded me to be sensitive and kind to other people and creatures, and to respect the communities I visit, even if they are only a few miles away. How fragile we all are! How easily can I forget and how grateful I am to be reminded of this simple truth.
