Photo by skitzitilby/Feature Photo by pedrosimoes7
My shoes scuff along the sandy track by my house. It occurs to me again. Sand beneath my feet. Grains of sand in an egg timer. The bottom half of my egg timer fills far more quickly than I remember when I was twenty.
How often I forget that although my heart is young, my body isn’t. My weak ankle turns, reminding me how once I hopped, skipped and jumped through Calgary, Jaipur and downtown Aswan. Today, high curbs are my Katmandu. Our planet is a cook book and years of sampling its secrets has taken a toll on my midriff.
In my head, I can still climb the Himalayas and backpack down any river in the world. At 54, though, my back aches from chopping wood for our wood burning stove.
I carry the physical traits of the Wilcox women, but my wanderlust comes from the men folk. Their foreign travels were done in the name of War. Great Granfer Baker fought in the Sudan. Great Granny had never heard of London let alone Africa.
Great Granfer’s son fought in Gallipoli, convalesced in Alexandria and on the island of Malta. His journal means more to me than gold when I used it as a guidebook holidaying in Valletta in my twenties where I literally followed his steps. The poppies waving in the breeze along my path were borne from the seeds of the poppies he passed.
My father fought in Burma, was a POW in Changhai. Tears caught my throat when many years later I stood where he almost died in Singapore.
He stood with the British Army in Israel when they were handed their Mandate in 1948. When I voiced an interest in visiting Israel in the seventies, my mother was totally against it. My father told me to go.
“The Jewish are the friendliest people I know,” he said as he gave me a handful of addresses, just in case!
He served in India for many years and loved the country with a passion. I asked him once “Why?” He had no words for me other than to say it was a country that buries itself deep in the soul. He died before I managed to visit, and I never had a chance to share my own infatuation with him.
Photo by M@ruteclea
Travel to me is as gin to an addict. In my twenties, thirties and forties, I trekked solo to thirty two countries. My thirst could not be quenched, but I am slowing down now. Age and money supersede my desire to travel.
In my head, I can still climb the Himalayas and backpack down any river in the world. At 54, though, my back aches from chopping wood for our wood burning stove. My spine shouts at me after a day planting potatoes and other veggies. We have money to pay the bills and put food on the table but not to travel.
“Where shall we go next?” I ask my partner Paul, who ponders awhile before replying “Tunis.” Out comes the photo album and a bottle of Don Mendo red. I look at the photo of myself and a camel at the edge of the Sahara and am reminded of my egg timer.
“We’ll go places again,” he says thoughtfully, unable to answer when I ask when.
You twenty-somethings of today stand at the edge of the world. You can visit Patagonia, a place we didn’t even know existed. You can canoe the Amazon. A teen in south London thirty years ago had as good a chance of going to the moon. And with a fistful of dollars, you can go anywhere, and when the pocket runs bare, you can tend bar or shear sheep to pay your way.
I don’t doubt that you have your challenges, but they are more easily faced when you are twenty or thirty than when you are fifty. I envy the young people of today.
Travel isn’t just a fortnight kayaking down the Amazon. It can be a day right outside my door.
I visited my mum in London recently. She still lives in the same house where she grew up. I took her out for walks in her wheelchair, and as we went along, she spotted things like blades of grass springing through the pavement, an early crocus, an unusual air conditioning box outside a building. She noticed a lady with a hem falling down.
She encouraged me to see simple, every day things differently. Thus, I saw the things that connect. I saw my own area with new eyes.
Travel isn’t just a fortnight kayaking down the Amazon. It can be a day right outside my door. At 54, I must leave my youth behind and adjust to the maturity of being a golden oldie. The adventures are there; they are just a little different.
My egg timer fills not with sandy particles but with the all the travel experiences that have enriched my life.
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How do you define travel? Has this definition changed over the years? Share your answer with us in the comments below.
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What a beautiful essay, Rosie. The thing that stood out for me is how very lucky you are to still have your mother. I lost my mom five years ago.
Good for you for taking the time to notice blades of grass and funny air conditioners with her. My mom was young, but I loved doing simple things like that with her, too.Don’t count yourself out yet! You still have a lot of places to go:)
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I completely agree with Julie. This is an incredible and inspiring piece, Rosie.
It also seems to me that the extra years you have also come with a knowledge and wisdom that is now innate and intuitive for you. The same ideas and ability to reflect on the past do not come so effortlessly to those 20 or 30 years your junior.
We’re still learning. Thank you for sharing with us!
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A year or so ago there was an article in a newspaper I read that talked about the Lewis and Clark “Voyage of Discovery.” I live in an area where they walked. In the article the author spoke of each of us having the chance to have our own voyage of discovery right where we are – we have the opportunity to look around us with new eyes every day.
So while, at 65, I plan to learn to SCUBA dive and travel to Kangaroo Island Australia to see the leafy sea dragon I just met at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in his natural habitat, I don’t imagine I will climb any of the 14 footers in Colorado.The full moon on a winter night, Orion wheeling overhead, the visit of a bald eagle and the first wildflower daring to peek out at retreating winter – these feed my sense of wonder.
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That is such beautiful imagery, Carolyn. Thank you!
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Rosie, as one of the 20-somethings standing on the edge of the world, I gotta say, you blew me away. You are exactly the kind of role model people my age need. Thanks for this.
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Gorgeous piece, Rosie. Thanks so much for sharing.
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Indeed, a wonderful essay Rosie.
It’s truly not about how far and wide one travels, but how one savors those simple moments during whatever journey one is currently on.
Thanks for sharing a bit of yourself with us.
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Beautiful. One of the all-time best at Matador.
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In complete agreement, Hal.
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What an inspirational essay. Thank you so much.
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There are so many stories right here in this one piece, I can’t wait for each one to unfold. Thank you for sharing this with us, Rosie.
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Very touching piece.I’ve been a world traveler my whole life, solo, small groups, East, West, you name it. At 40 I was camping in remote mountains in Yemen. Yet I sometimes find myself glancing,wistfully, at young 20-somethings with backpacks traveling the world, ghosts of my former self. Rosie reminds us that there are adventures just outside our own doors.
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This is amazing Rosie. Such an interesting perspective that really inspires me to take advantage of the rest of my 20s!
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I so agree with everyone Rosie. This is so beautiful. I found myself getting wistful….until I saw your age. This is where I have to object. You sound like you are 90. Why must you leave your youth behind? You are 54!!! That is still so young. And yes, the adventures are still there to go out and enjoy any way you can. I know that I tire a little more easily now, but that will not stop me. I am mature, but at 62 I refuse to be a golden oldie, or an oldie of any kind. I don’t feel 62 and I guess that’s what counts.
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Well said, Angeline.
It’s all in how you look at it.
While I do think “golden oldie” is used here in a sort of ironic way, there’s no reason to ever count oneself out at any age. 54 or 90.
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What a wonderful article. Thanks for sharing it with us
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I agree with everyone. We always need articles like this to put things in perspective whether we are far from home or not.
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A gorgeous and inspiring essay Rosie. This is one of the best articles I have read so far on Matador.
Thank you.. for making the young folks smile, lift their head up and say: I can do it!
Cheers to you!
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I am 61 and I had no money to travel when I was young, but now can afford to do it. I disagree that age is necessarily the time for cutting back and traveling in memory instead of in person. My back ached from physical exercise when I was 20 or 30, so why should now be any different? I think this article has more appeal to those who are young, for whom the implicit contrast between youth and age provides some validation of “do it now” because tomorrow it will be too late. Travel is not soley for the young. It is for anyone who is willing to go. I agree that 54 is not old — it is possible to feel old at any age. Conversely, it is possible to feel young at any age too. I found this essay not gorgeous but incredibly sad.
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Sally,
Of course travel is not only for the young. Not by a long shot. But there are some realities that come with getting older — and I don’t just mean physical — that limit the freedom of travel.
As one example, I’m 37, and I have a 5yo child. There’s no way I’ll be picking up and traveling with no ties through India for nine months. I have responsibilities that come first.
I think there’s also the reality that as our bodies age, certain things become more difficult. My father, for example, has serious health issues. I even had to fly back from Argentina when he had brain surgery last year. Sure, he can still travel, but an hour hike isn’t possible for him anymore.
And I think many of us feel that is sad. What Rosie’s article made me realize is that it is pointless to be afraid and sad about what is part of the natural condition of being human. We will all get older and begin to see our bodies less capable as they were ten, twenty, thirty years earlier. That is, if we’re lucky.
What I found so inspiring about this essay is that it shows that it is entirely possible to accept those changes and continue to grow, develop and, yes, even travel.
I do think, though, you are correct in saying this is geared more to a younger audience. The so-called older voice isnt’ heard as often in certain travel circles. Personally, I’d like to hear a lot more.
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The line I liked best in the essay was “The adventures are there; they are just a little different.” Sometimes a lot different, sometimes a little, just depending on how adventurous/crazy you were as a 20-something.
What I think is rather ironic is that I can remember being turned on to the treasures of looking at adventuring differently when I had little kids along on the hikes, etc. So your adventures do need to be different with a little one along, Leigh, but they can be very rewarding in other ways. When a toddler would rather stop and play with rocks in the stream than look out over 14,000′ vistas, you learn than rocks and streams are pretty cool things to pay attention to, too. And you might have missed that without the little companion to show it to you.
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Hi Kathy,
What I meant when I said traveling without ties is that I wouldn’t leave my daughter behind while I travel on my own. I would most definitely travel with her.
In fact, I spent the last three years of my life traveling with her, so I totally agree in your assessment of the benefits of traveling with a child.
Still, there are times I wish I could go off and travel without ties or responsibilities. I do occasionally, but there’s a difference between a week and a year. Know what I’m saying?
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I found my first gray hair the other day. Sign of wisdom, right?
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Children benefit immensely from travel. People who take their kids on long-term trips do homeschooling. Their kids learn new languages and an appreciation of human diversity. I just do not believe that these comfortable niches people choose to inhabit are actually prisons. Age is only one of many excuses people raise when they just don’t want to disrupt their everyday life. Why not admit that reality, instead of stereotyping an entire age group with the health and resource limitations of a minority (more than 75% of elderly adults do not have serious health problems, about 20% live in poverty according to the latest AARP magazine)?
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Sally,
I very much appreciate your input. As I said before, I think it’s important to have as many voices as possible represented here on Life.
Rosie’s is one. No one is saying her experience applies to everyone.
Nor did anyone here say all older people are infirm an penniless. Those are two examples Rosie brings up, and I say are indeed realities that I believe spans all ages as well.
As for traveling with children, what I should have said above is that I won’t be traveling off to Indian for 9 months “on my own” any time soon. I have traveled plenty with my daughter and will most definitely do it again too. My main point is that I see and experience travel differently with her there.
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I read this article thinking the author was 75-80 years old. When I saw she was only 54 years old, I almost fell off my chair. It was at age 47 that I just started to fulfill my childhood dream of doing international volunteer work. Now at 57, I have been on 10 healthcare & animal rescue projects from Africa to Asia to South America. I don’t know all of Rosie’s circumstances, but age alone does not mean the end of travel. I do my overseas volunteer work for many reasons, but one of them is to inspire other middle-age & older people to get out of their ‘comfortable ruts’ & see the world. Please don’t call me a ‘golden oldie’!
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Hi Barb,
I share your attitude. One plan I have for when I’m in my 50s, possibly 60s, is to finally join the Peace Corps. Until now, it’s been difficult to commit to spending two full years away from family (especially my daughter).
I also don’t know why Rosie feels the way she does about her own health and physical ability. I agree that 54 is indeed young. Age in and of itself isn’t a reason to stop doing (although as you suggest, there are many who too easily fall into their ruts and that can be an easy excuse).
About ten years ago, I went to Brazil with a professor of mine from university. At the time, he was 75 years old and when I watched him hiking up and down hills in the rainforest with his 6 year old son on his back, I saw for the first time what it really means to be young and alive. He hasn’t changed that much in the last ten years.
And no worries, no one is calling you a golden oldie.
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Yes, age is a state of mind. But often this is manipulated by outside influences such as I endured. Just by way of brief explanation I was born & bred a Londoner. I always had a strong character. I felt many years younger than my real age. I dressed & acted as I felt, which at fifty was like 25-30.
When I met Paul I moved to Cornwall to be with him as that was where he lived. The Cornish resented me as I came from outside the county. Several neighbours in Paul’s road just plain ignored me; never spoke to me. The others spoke only to tell me I wasn’t welcome in Cornwall & to get the hell back to where I came from.. I was also told by these same kindly neighbours that I shouldn’t wear yellow mascara or coloured tights – those things are for kids. I was too old for that at 50! If I wanted to dress like that then I knew where I could go so they told me.
There were many other things they didn’t like about the fact that I was an ‘oversized teenager’ – their words! To cut a long story short their abuse became so bad that I didn’t leave the house for a year. There were anonymous phone calls & stones thrown at the windows…… I grew to believe that I shouldn’t have my young outlook. That I should be ‘old’. I was in hospital for a time because of the trauma. Paul then said he was going to sell the house & we were going to move. We had previously toured Spain & loved the culture & life style. We talked & planned….
Then we moved here August 2007. It turned out to be the best thing we ever did. I am slowly returning to my former self. The coloured tights; mascara have come back out. Although this post doesn’t tell it all (yes, there is a lot more), what I am saying is that we must always take into account there are things lurking in the background that make people as they are & think the way they do. We must never judge without knowing the full facts.
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Hi Rosie,
You are so right about judging, and I want to apologize for doing just that in my earlier comment. It’s easy to read a post and shoot from the hip, not thinking about what the story behind the story is.
I’m glad to hear you are returning to your former self and that those tights are coming back out.
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Thanks for this wonderful piece.. thank you for reminding me of the big things in life… and the small things in life too. =)
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I think your story is wonderful. I want to be able to keep wearing colourful tights when I’m in my 50s too (I’m 35 and have been told I dress like a 5 year old).
Just as an aside, regarding age and whatnot, my parents only started travelling internationally in their 50s, when I ran off to Europe in my early 20s for the 3rd time. They are now in their mid 60s and are planning a second trip to visit me in China. Before that, we were all over Turkey in their 3 trips. They’re getting stronger and braver with each trip, I think, and have run off on their own for long sojourns in rural Portugal.
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wonderful piece
really got me thinking about time and how it’s passing me by
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I missed this one until it was featured on the top of our home page. Wow, what a great piece about it all. I’m dying to hear more about some of those old adventures. Are you writing about those at all?
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How lovely and inspiring. At age 45 I’m just starting my world travels. There’s a wonderful world out there….right at home and far away. You’ve touched that “discovery” part of my soul that I hope never goes away…Thank you!
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This one slipped by me. Until now. Echoing everything above, so beautifully written. So reflective.
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i enjoyed your writing but honestly i too am just about 54 and ready to go….with the backpack and everything. puhleaze – i just raised 3 kids on my own, did everything, worked 2 jobs, chopped wood…after doing that…i could climb everest. nothing is ever too good to be true, too good to last or too late to set forth and do. good luck honey, i’ll be in cambodia….and beyond…..not sure i will ever return to the u.s.a.
(check out rita gelman golden, true nomad/author who is even older than me; and hasn’t owned a home in years!)
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I enjoyed Rosie’s article about finding joy in the near as well as the far. There is a lot to be said for accepting your limitations — physical or other — with grace.
That said, part of what I do regularly is encourage and support women who want to keep, or even start, long-distance hiking & backpacking in their 40s and beyond. I recognize that everyone is at a different point physically and mentally, but some people stop themselves from trying things because they don’t think adventure travel is appropriate after a given age.
I’m 69, and have hiked extensively in Patagonia, climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro,and completed thousands of miles of backpacking within the last five years. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not over ’til it’s over.
I know that the sort of traveling that I do is not for everyone, but if adventure travel appeals to you, don’t give up your dreams because someone thinks you are too old.
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Nicely said, Susan. I’m 55, got a few rivers yet to run, a few deserts I haven’t seen – or want to see again . . . maybe even a peak or two. But I’m finding immense joy in finally sitting down and writing about where I’ve been and what it – what Travel – has meant for me.
I’ve been somewhat of a vagabond for half my life, I’m often asked where I “grew up” . . . most expect my hometown or some other place in my country . . . I grew up in Calcutta . . . in Varanasi . . . Peshawar . . . Paris . . . Iceland . . . in the Grand Canyon . . . on the road in a van driving from Quetta to Islamabad . . . now that I’m “grown-up” I’ve decided to “grow-in” . . .↵ -
Hi Scott,
Well put yourself.
I’m seeing my life currently as an Mobius strip–the travel and writing flow continually with no beginning and no end and into each other. At least that’s my goal, but reality frequently intervenes.↵ -
Susan,
That is perhaps the best description of how to live life that I’ve ever heard.
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Susan, et al . . . the last two years I was chef at a small outfitting shop/restaurant in Escalante, Utah . . . amazing place . . . last year a group of women came to our place for their anniversary – they formed their organization – Great Old Broads for the Wilderness – on the steps of our place twenty years ago . . . what an Aswesome group! One woman will forever remain indelible . . . she was well over 80, had calves a 30 year old would give up her iPad for . . . they came in October, cottonwoods well into their golden phase, cold, cold nights . . . the 80 year old slept in the back of her car, put on her pack each morning and headed out into the wilderness with the youngsters (the 50, 60 and 70 year olds) . . .
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I belong to Great Old Broads for Wilderness (although I haven’t done many activities with them because of my other activities and their offices distance from me). One of their foremost messages is something to the effect of don’t you dare tear up the wilderness and say you are doing it on our account. In other words, they want to save the wilderness, not subdivide and pave it into oblivion.
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Thanks, Leigh, I like being my age, and have much to be thankful for–including excellent health.
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What a fascinating conversation ranging far and wide, kicked off by Rosie’s fascinating piece. I learned long ago that you see your own surroundings with new eyes when you return from far places. I’ve traveled most of my life–and still am, as an octogenarian. There are ways to travel frugally, including volunteering. You don’t have to go rafting or climbing or biking to have adventurous journeys. Seeing new places and learning new cultures and making new friends–that’s adventuring to me. There are still many new destinations high on my list; I’ll never live long enough to do it all!
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This is so beautiful, Rosie! Thank you so much for sharing it.
My mom is in her late ’60s, but she still gets to travel a good amount with my dad for work. When she’s at home, she works out in her garden. It seems to be a nice parallel.↵
