It’s a weird place to be in when you choose to make yourself a sleep-deprived, stressed-out human being. I don't think I am alone in this; it's an easy spot to find yourself in. You want to do all the things whether it's being successful at work, having the grandest adventures, or even just managing to keep the 4,938 parts of your life together. The thing is it's not sustainable - or at least it is not for me.
Throughout this past winter, I took my hibernation seriously and by the time spring arrived I was ready to bust out of survival mode. My program offers a 6 week study abroad so my new year's goal became to have my life organized enough to take advantage of that opportunity. Also, did I mention one of the options was to go to Jamaica? Who doesn't want to spend spring soaking up the sun and enjoying all things island life?
I arrived in Jamaica with some big goals in mind, especially coming off the high of choosing to leave a job and move out of my apartment of almost 4 years. Go big or go home? Much of the past 12 months has been spent constantly playing catch-up at work and/or school and to be honest I was wholeheartedly exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to create some stability in my life, reorganize my priorities, and take some time to breathe.
Perhaps then it is no surprise that upon arriving in Kingston, all I wanted was to escape my new urban environment, stretch my legs, and get some mountain air in my lungs. (Side note: you may have thought being that I was in the Caribbean my first order of business would be to get my bum to the beach, especially given my love of salt water. I know. I am just as surprised as you are. Judge away.) Interesting life choices aside, my first weekend in Jamaica and I found myself packing my bag for a 24 hour getaway to the Blue Mountains. Three hours of rain-filled, nausea inducing twisty roads later, including a very necessary pit stop to switch out a glorified hatchback for a Land Rover, I arrived at a guesthouse run by some Rastafarians.
As the rains began to let up, the surrounding property glistened in the intermittent late afternoon sun. Not to be all sappy (but to be sappy), it was magical. I wandered about the property, investigating the various fruits and vegetables growing and stumbling into some hooved garden thieves. The only sounds to be heard were the crunching of earth under my feet, the reawakening of evening birds and bugs, and an occasional goat bleating presumably in protest to being identified as an interloper. As I stretched my legs out scampering up and over the garden’s sloped paths, I was tempted to just scurry up the trail to the peak. I would have to wait though until the early morning hours of the following day. Mostly because I was not traveling alone but also because everyone I had spoken to about the Blue Mountains either thought I was a ridiculous person for wanting to ascend them or insisted that I arrive at the peak for sunrise. Watching the sunset over the range, I was able to catch a glimpse of the hillside down to the sea giving me hope for what the following day’s hike had to offer.
Because of our planned 2 am departure, we asked Everton, the guesthouse caretaker for the weekend, to lead the way. After a quick cup of coffee, we were on our way into the dark and misty morning. As we slowly began our climb, what had started as a mere misting turned to more of a drizzle. To be honest, I welcomed the initial drops as even in the early hours of morning I was beginning to feel the heat. Up and up my legs carried me and as the weather became more miserable and damp, my persistent attention on the seemingly large issues in my life faded out until all I could do was focus on the present. We ascended as a group, ensuring that no man was left behind and creating a lighthearted atmosphere to counteract the nagging question of what in the world were we doing for hiking 16 miles in the cold, pouring rain.
Eventually, we made it to the peak which was completely surrounded in fog. I couldn't see more than 30 feet in front of me let alone Cuba. After the obligatory peanut butter sandwich eating and documentation of making it to the top, we began our descent, retracing our steps. It didn’t take long for most of our group to make a literal run for it while my friend and I moseyed along accompanied by Everton. If it wasn’t for a friend with hesitancy towards slippery, downhill slopes, I probably would have been part of the speedier pack.
I can have a tendency to rush through things. Racing from one thing to the next, always scheming another adventure in my brain, at times to the detriment of the present. Instead the way back down was filled with the sounds of rain hitting the forest canopy, a few birds braving the weather, and the intermittent songs and commentary from our mountain guide. I have to admit I had begun to romanticize the Rastafarian life - I could live simply in the mountains, surviving off my vegan farm, trekking down to the sea for surf on the weekends. But as Everton shared about his life, it became clear that his life was anything but simple. Which yes, of course, because people are people and we all have these messy, sometimes beautiful, sometimes ugly, lives. His family was scattered across the globe, the magical and organic farm I loved was under constant threat of being contaminated from the neighbor's pesticide use, and he too was wondering why he agreed to take us up the mountain this damp and drizzly Sunday.
The funny and glaringly obvious life lesson here is that even if you can change your location oftentimes the situation remains the same. Don’t get me wrong; Jamaica was/is absolutely amazing. I loved my mountain retreat (despite the cold/rain/fog/clothing soaked through to my skin), however my work, school, life responsibilities didn’t suddenly disappear when I stepped off the plane. As much as I wanted all the loose ends to be tied off and neat tick marks next to every item on my to do list, it just didn’t happen despite my best efforts. I’m slowly learning that’s ok, emphasis on slowly. In the meantime, I'll be here just daydreaming of my vegan farmer/surfer lady lifestyle.
notes:
if you’re down with [nice] hostel accomodations and cold showers, stay at Jah B’s Guesthouse. and please, buy the coffee. it is delicious and far better than the more expensive varieties i was able to find in kingston.
bring snacks with you, especially if you plan to hike before sunrise. while coffee was provided, about thirty minutes into the hike you’ll be wishing you had some food in your belly. if you are hiking with a guide, bring extra snacks to share - they will be much appreciated.
