A Postcard From Somewhere: Welcome Back To NorCal

Worn down after years of footprints, years of salt dripping off of wetsuits, the familiar trail hadn't changed since I could remember. While it's appearance hadn't changed, it felt like rediscovering an old friend again. Walking down the trail surrounded by the fresh growth of Spring, I'm focused on the shimmering blue ocean in the distance.

Setting my wetsuit and board down on the headlands, I spot the buckets, clothes, and bags that are temporarily abandoned by their owners for waves. Taking a seat on the grass, I watch the waves sloppily roll in. Debating my options, I decide it's better to surf then not to. Wrapping my towel around myself, I strip down and begin trying to stretch my parched wetsuit over my legs. Losing my balance, I stumble and catch myself.

I tell myself words of encouragement, "It's only because you haven't worn a wetsuit for six months..."

Yanking the hood over my head, I suddenly feel stiff from the restrictiveness of the wetsuit. Grabbing my board, I make my way down to the water's edge. Putting one foot into the cold water, I immediately want to run away like a child who runs from the swash on the beach. Not wanting to forfeit, I throw my body onto my board trying to keep my appendages out of the water.

My hands sear and turn plum red as I make my way out of the channel into the lineup. Twenty feet away from me, a sea lion breaks the surface and gives me a shock. The slightly opaque water reveals the kelp and sand hidden underneath me. A set rolling in forces me to duckdive and endure the frigid water over my entire body. Reappearing from underneath the wave, I instantly have an ice cream headache.

"Welcome Back to NorCal," I tell myself.

I've been home for several days now and while I miss the people and places in Central America, it feels great to be home. After six months of living out of a backpack, the conveniences of having a home are thoroughly missed. Even though the adventure was more than worthwhile, the wayfaring lifestyle is difficult at times. Suddenly trivial things like transportation back home suddenly become difficult in a foreign country. So when I stepped into the San Jose airport in Costa Rica, it was saddening to see this adventure come to a close but also exciting to see what other ones unfold in the future.

Wasting time in San Jose Costa Rica

When you have six hours in the San Jose airport, this is what it looks like when you lay on your back...

Empty lineup

One last bus ride

Looking at my hands, they looked crippled. After an hour of being in the frigid water, my hands succumbed to the cold and began to turn into claws. Shivering, I catch one more wave to the beach and walk back up to the headlands. Pulling my wetsuit off my body, the chilly air feels warm after begin in the much colder ocean. Replacing the wetsuit with jeans and two sweaters, I sit back down to catch up with the familiar faces that I left behind six months earlier.

Here are some photos from the traveling in the islands of Bocas del Toro Panama. I will also continue adding photos over the course of the next week or so.