I was talking to my brother Pete over the past few days.

His plan starting out was to go to Idaho and get some hiking and photography in.

Note the tence of the sentence.

We left the same day.

Him going north and I going south. Originally we were expecting to meet up around Yosemite. Instead we both pulled slightly longer days than we were expecting to meet up early.

He’s in a position that I’ve found myself in. Being behind schedule and feeling like the trip really is all that you’re doing. The weight of getting to the next spot. The expense of everything as the miles roll on.

I felt that pretty much the same way on the Alaska trip when we were in the Yukon. Different circumstances, but the same thing: the planned trip was falling apart.

I know that Ennie and I had a lot of angst with that. I had a bent front wheel and we had airline tickets to fly Ennie back from Anchorage. Things were going from “cool” to “something’s getting way fucked up.”

Pete was getting to that point.

The expectations that you’ve set for yourself. The expectations of others.

Making the decision sucks. But you feel the weight lift after you’ve made it.

No longer going to Idaho he’s just chillin’ along the coast.

And there’s nothing wrong with that. :-)