Over the weekend, I watched 'Tracks', a film about a woman's trek across the Australian desert with only a few camels and her beloved dog to keep her company. I hadn't heard of this movie before, but the premise instantly proved intriguing; it is based on the real story of Robyn Davidson, who completed the journey and had it documented by National Geographic in 1977. The cinematography was beautiful but it was the tale of existential dilemma that one faces after losing a loved one that truly resonated with me. I've wanted to see 'Wild' for the same reason but as I live in a satellite community of the middle of nowhere, it still isn't in theatres.
In the early 1970s, my father and two friends rode their 10-speed bicycles from Winnipeg to Vancouver. This was before cross-country cycling excursions (and the entire alternative travel industry) came into vogue. There are few photos of the trip remaining; in none of them is there any trace of safety gear visible. In fact, clothing seems to be entirely optional. They were simply slaves to the open highway and the dawn of the day.
My father was very proud of this adventure and spoke of it often.
