“Not all those who wander are lost.” – J.R.R. Tolkien
When I was eight years old my parents gave me a subscription to National Geographic. For years any time I would go to a second hand shop or a book store the first thing I would run to was the magazine rack and look for that familiar yellow boarder. Now I held a piece of paper that said I was a member of the National Geographic Society. This may have meant something entirely different, but to me I took it with great pride. I rushed to my room and pinned it on the wall next to my maps of Europe, Australia, and Antarctica that I had pulled out of previous issues.
It wasn’t just National Geographic. My favorite films growing up was the Young Indiana Jones series. Although fictional, I admired that the entire series was greatly researched and filmed on location. I was amazed by the story of Ernest Shackleton and the Endurance, and started planing treks to the Antarctic. I’ve spent countless hours re-watching the entire three seasons of Departures. When I was a teenager I received a copy of the Motorcycle Diaries by Ernesto “Che” Guevara. I decided one day I would make an incredibly journey as he did, and let the world change me.
Travel has always be a part of me. Even when my feet are flat on the ground, I’m looking for ways to fly.