For Freya, launching into a journey around a continent is "not an effort," it's just a walk in the park for her.
Yet here I am, scared out of my wits about paddling around an absolutely miniscule island. (And I won't even have to deal with crocodiles.)
It's silly to compare what I'm doing with her accomplishments, but still, reading her blog refilled me with motivations that I've lost since around August.
All morning, I've been on googleearth drafting my route and escape plans for my NZ South Island trip.
I conceded long ago that my greatest fear is not knowing what I don't know; playing GE helps me alleviate that fear. When I see a town near shore on GE, I look it up on google, I wonder if I will get cell phone coverage in the area, whether I can find fresh water, or a sea side town with restaurant and a B&B. The process is a lot of fun, which I enjoy immensely.
And it feels strangely familiar. There was a time when I was naive and didn't know the sea can be wrathy, I imagined my endurance was limitless. I would consult no one but googleearth, and I would take Indian Summer wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
I've since taken many lessons from the sea, some of which frightened me so much that I was forced to grow up against my wish. I took a 2 years break from kayaking and went to Japan. To be honest, when I left Hong Kong, I thought I would never paddle again, the close encounter with a sealiner on East Lamma Channel was the last straw, I thought for sure that I have had enough.
The two years sabbatical was good for me in many ways, I wasn't physically on the water, but I had a lot of time to digest what I've done, what I did wrong, and more importantly, what I did right, because I'm still alive, and I still can't stop loving the sea.
After I flew back to Hong Kong in March 2009, as the MTR took me out of Lantau, I got stung with a pang of pride and guilt. Some foreigners were exclaiming, "oh look at the sea, it's so beautiful." The remark made me smile, yes, it's beautiful, it's MY sea, the sea Dennis and I used to paddle in, where my home is a few hours paddle away. I looked longingly at Siu Ho Wan, at the Brothers Islands, I wished I was on the water in the sun, instead of the air-conditioned train compartment. I couldn't believe I had consented to leave Hong Kong, I couldn't believe I had stopped paddling. I missed the sea so so much.
I paddled avidly since I came back in March; Dennis and I managed to sink Indian Summer by late April. But I stand by the old wisdom, what didn't kill you makes you stronger. I had the confidence that my kayak can take me anywhere within Hong Kong, nothing is out of my comfort zone. (Then again, I really shouldn't speak too soon :))
But I do wonder at my arrogance. I'm not a strong paddler, I'm not fast, I haven't got power or speed. I have decent endurance, but I'm definitely not top notch. My skill level is only so-so, and I wouldn't say my rolling is bomb proof. My only "advantage," if you can call it that, is that I've already made many mistakes, and thank goodness I don't usually make the same mistake twice. I know the local water well, I know the local weather pattern, the local geography. I know what's within my comfort zone, and I know not to tread too far out of it.
New Zealand is going to be completely foreign though. There is no way for me to predict when I'll be taken out of my comfort zone. And when that happens, I'll break down and announce, "this is it, I have had enough, I want out."
Right now, in my comfortable room, in front of my computer, a domestic long hair asian wall flower is writing this with a smile, wondering when that time comes, whether she will pick herself up and push on, or is she going to be "sensible" and go home.
