Running Down a Dream

(7 Photos)

Driving away from the glaciers, I felt fantastic.  I was finally on an adventure I was excited about.  That feeling of loneliness and pointlessness would pop its head up from time to time, but winding my way through the lush countryside roads, reggae blasting through the speakers, I felt pretty damn good.  

On the way back I started driving by this beautiful lake that was dead calm.  Another spontaneous turnoff led me to a peaceful afternoon of walking around the lake, taking photos around the lake's lush coastline. 

I came back to the town that I had stopped at when I first hit the coast.  A place called Hokitika.  It was a cool little town with plenty of charm, good food, and a damn decent movie theater with couches as seats!  Right up my alley.  

That evening I arrived to find that a little bit of swell had filled in.  There was a clean, well shaped peak just out in front of the main beach, and as usual no one was out.  I excitedly threw on my wetsuit and paddled out to grab a few.  

Surfing all by myself, on a decent little wave, on a perfectly peaceful evening; I felt incredible.  Surfing was always such an emotional release for me my spiritual cup ran full.

The days after that were filled with giant storm surf that I made myself surf/survive at least once a day.  I would usually spend the rest of my day taking lots of photos.  The vast amounts of tortured driftwood that littered the beach was my favorite subject.

There were a few days where I drove around the surrounding countryside, visiting lakes, rivers, waterfalls, you name it.  It seemed that the assets of the Hokitika region were literally endless, and I was almost always all alone.  

Down dirt roads and through farmlands, I realized that it didn't really matter where I went.  Almost every new area had some beautiful little niche that was all but a secret.  

I camped anywhere that seemed like it wouldn't bother anyone, and on the west coast, that was pretty much everywhere.

One day I woke up to an incredibly clear day.  The sun was out, but the surf left a lot to be desired.  For the first time, I saw the snow covered peaks of Mount Tasman and Mount Cook shimmering in the distance.  

I was heading towards a local lake for the day when I felt an intense calling to go back to the glaciers.  Very rarely in my travels have I gone back somewhere.  

It always felt that going forward was the right call, and with false promises of returning "one day", I pretty much always moved on.  

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But, I couldn't resist the thought of photographing Lake Matheson's reflections one more time.  I could see the peaks basking in the fresh day's sun from a great distance.  

Sitting in my van on the side of the road, I gave it some thought.  10 mins later, I fired up Joyous, swung her around, and a 3 hour drive later and I arrived at the lake. I packed up my camera gear and some food, and excitedly went back to the area with the famous views.  

It was crystal clear and the mountains seemed close enough to touch.  I was the only one there, and I excitedly began to photograph to my hearts content.  I took a lot of single shots, but then began experimenting around again by taking photos in a series, stitching them together later in long, detailed panoramas.

(8 Photos: PHOTO OF THE WEEK!)

Suddenly, a large group of Japanese men came down the path, equipped with rolling suitcases full of top of the line camera gear!  I was immediately surrounded.  The peace and tranquility of the day was long gone, but with the sun setting, and the mountains reflecting the beautiful colors, I couldn't have been in a better mood.  

The only thing that would interrupt the complete stillness of the water was the occasional duck, who seemed to laugh at an untimely landing.

I returned that night to the van all smiles.  It was yet another good call.  I felt like I was on a roll.  I've come to believe through my travels that the world whispers you in the right direction, but as people, we get so caught up in our own plans that we either don't hear, or we refuse to listen.  

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Its extremely hard to do, but if you can truly listen, everything seems to just fold out in front of you.  I felt like maybe, finally, I was starting to hear her once again.