2014 was another year for the books. Looking back I can’t
believe the amount of adventure I squeezed into 365 days, not to mention all
the while maintaining a full-time commercial real estate job, dealing with that
old cancer thing, and wakeboarding.
Then again, maybe I can.
I’ve never needed to travel to find adventure – fun is what
you make of it. “It” being your situation, location, etc., but I did find
myself all over the map this year, both domestically and internationally for
one reason or another. Throughout each trip, regardless of purpose or
destination, I was certain to travel mindfully, soaking up all information with
each of the five senses in order to learn and broaden my horizons. I had
intentions of sharing my experiences via blog, however, as noted earlier, my
2014 new years resolution was to be more selfish…and I did a pretty good job at
it. As each trip came and went, I was so deeply involved in fully living each
experience that I didn’t get the chance to write
about it (in my spare time, I also had a full-time job to tend to). With that
said, we’ve now blasted off on the space ship that is 2015 and my resolution
has taken a contrasting turn.
For me, 2015 is The Year of Creation and Expression. Lucky you.
Though I have many more adventures penciled in for the coming months,
I’d also like to share a few of my experiences of the past year, even if
briefly, and touch on the importance, or non importance, of each. We'll start with the first couple, and I'll proceed unleash the rest of them in posts over the next couple of weeks.
It’s always been easier for me to write in the past tense,
anyhow.
(Disclaimer: I apologize in advance for the lack of pictures.
During any special experience, stopping to take a photo isn’t the first thing on my
mind…I have some photos, but most often I save the best parts for myself.)
January was a mellow month I spent shaping my first
surfboard and battling the flu resulting most epic sinus infection ever
documented. I shaped, I fished, and I was recognized as the Solar Bear’s “Hometown Hero
of the Game” for Hockey Fights Cancer night.
#OldTimeHockey.
 |
| Eddie Shore. |
  |
| The first cut is always the hardest! |
 |
| "Rubbin' one out." |
  |
| The finished product -"William Bass" |
Finally, after having absolutely zero taste sensation for
over 10 days, my friend Brett brought some homemade chicken noodle soup over,
and for the first time in two weeks, I experienced the ever so slight taste of the savory
broth. I knew then that my year was about to get underway, and I was comin' in hot.
The following Thursday, Tiff, and I, after one glass of wine too
many, decided we needed to go to Key West….the next day. So, we booked the
last hotel room on the island, literally, and headed South.
Tiff, Steve, my friend Spencer, and I arrived at the Southernmost Florida island late
night, but with the help of the instigator known Patron, we were able to catch up with the rest of
the folk on Duval Street in no time. It wasn’t easy getting up at 7am the next
morning, but to feel like Hemingway’s Santiago fishing the sea, I’ll do just
about anything. Our guide, knowing we’d be late, showed up just as we did and
got us out on the water in a jiffy. 85, sunny, and no wind - perfection. We
chased a few fish, drank some hair of the dog, and ended up catching a good
sized permit on the fly. The Old Man would be proud. What followed was standard
Margaritaville protocol, involving lobster dinner, Guinness chugging at Irish
Kevins, and a not so pretty ending to the night at the Garden of Eden…
  |
| El Capitan |
Heading north, having just avoided catastrophe, it seemed as
though nothing else could go wrong – vibrant blue water on either side of the
car, seabreeze blowing through the windows. Even as we came to a stop on the road
for what seemed to be a minor hold up I said, “Man, even being stuck in this little
traffic jam is enjoyable. FL Keys traffic jams don’t suck!"
Until they do.
After 15 minutes passed and we hadn’t moved an inch, we began to sweat a little. As the clock ticked away, our dream of making it to the airport began to fall apart. We phoned a bait shop located a couple miles up the road. They let us know there’d been a wreck and the road wouldn’t reopen for 2 hours. The dream imploded. Barbados would have to wait.
Until they do.
After 15 minutes passed and we hadn’t moved an inch, we began to sweat a little. As the clock ticked away, our dream of making it to the airport began to fall apart. We phoned a bait shop located a couple miles up the road. They let us know there’d been a wreck and the road wouldn’t reopen for 2 hours. The dream imploded. Barbados would have to wait.
After a few much needed minutes sulking in self pity, we realized
that we just so happened to be stopped in Islamorada, only a mile away from my
favorite restaurant in the entire 200 mile chain of keys. So after moving a few
inches a minute, we’d had made it to the restaurant around 4pm. I ran across
the street to the nearest hotel and booked a room since everyone in the keys
was trying to get out and it would have taken us 10+ hours to get back to
Orlando. We sat next to the water at Lorelei restaurant and drank margaritas,
enjoyed fish tacos, reminisced about our Key West extravaganza, and listened to
the three salty man island band that played barefoot in front of the setting
sun. Not a bad “plan B”. We ended the night by narrowly avoiding getting into a skirmish with a local at the "Wild Hog", which is nothing out of the ordinary for a visit to the group of keys known as "Islamorada".
 |
| Lorelei sunset |
 | ||
| "Plan B" |
 |
| Waking up in a hammock in Islamorada instead of Barbados...could've been worse. |
 |
| It was worth the wait. |
This was only the tip of the 2014 travel iceberg for me, but it reminded me of an important lesson and set the tone for the rest of the year's adventures: Sometimes you need to simply sit back and let things work
themselves out, and, oftentimes, the journey becomes the trip itself.
Fun is what
you make of it.
To be continued,
a.score