It’s already been three months since I set foot on El Condor’s beach. Since then I have done everything not to think about the trip, I haven’t even talked about it to people who are close to me and I have dedicated body and soul to other projects.
This may seem strange but it happens at the end of every adventure, it is not a voluntary, it just goes this way.
From time to time I stop and consider the reason for my behavior. Perhaps I have already found an answer previously but it seems that I forget it every time, since it continues to happen and I continue to find myself wondering why. So this time I decided to write it down, just to have the answer ready for the next time I find myself thinking about this.
In the period after a journey I feel the urgency to wholly disconnect myself from the lifestyle I had during the previous six months. Intense months that I spent dreaming of lost places, studying maps, planning paths and paddling. Months that I spent doing what I love to do, until I finally reach the goal I was longing for.
Ah, indeed, the long-awaited goal: the truth is that one moment you are fighting against the wind and the sea and cursing your idea to get in that situation and the next moment you are unemployed and you do not know what to do.
What kept you so busy and for which you were ready to risk your life suddenly ends and a boundless sense of emptiness assails you, “and now, what do I do?” No more dams to pass, no wind, no waves, no cows to talk to …
An ordinary person would probably relax and relish in a well-earned rest, but I belong to that category of people for whom there is no worse hell than the absence of goals (or dreams, as we romantic call them).
Once the goal is reached, I do not dedicate myself to celebrations. The happiness of having completed a long and tough project is fleeting. Then the moment comes when I realize that I have nothing to pursue, no dream to let come true and, above all, I realize that I don’t have the energy to dive immediately in pursuit of a new adventure. This is the biggest pain.
I believe that when, we are devoted to hunting our dreams, it is difficult to admit that we do not have enough strength to go on pursuing them and to accept a less important goal peacefully, even if only momentarily.
Therefore, once the trip is over, I stop talking about it and I commit myself day and night to something else. It’s a form of self-defense, it’s a way not to think about it. Hence, I have not published photos, written articles or posted videos of my expedition to Patagonia.
As always, the call of adventure does not fade; it is only dormant, buried by work. Meanwhile it is recharging, waiting to catch me busy in my daily life and overwhelm me like a river in flood and drag me back to some lost corner of the world…
Actually I did not want to talk about this, I wanted to write the epilogue of the trip. Anyway it’s too late now …