I’m driving east from Devonshire to St. George’s, where my host family stays. In mesmerizing hues, beyond the chimneys and lattice of palm trees, you can see the sun setting in the horizon, a golden disk aflame, stark contrast to the blood-orange water below. An ominous sign on any other day, any other location. In the distant, you can hear motorcycle pistons whirring as Bermudans set home for the day. A baby cries atop a balcony though I can’t pinpoint the location. The crickets’ chirrs echo. A cool breeze approaches. A father and son in a boat approaches the shore.
“Excuse me. What are those pylons?” I ask, pointing to the ominous structures that line the waterway.
The man, stocky, and probably in his 40s, replies in a cheerful tone. He explains that they used to be part of a railway project that would have spanned the entire island of Bermuda. Then came the automobile, the industrial revolution, it was no longer needed. The trains were sold back to England and the rails left to succumb to nature. Nowadays, you can actually hike the trail in a day, which I’d done. Not an easy task, but not impossible either.
I’m satisfied with his answer. We would spend several more minutes talking. My wide-eyed sense of wonder hangs in the air as we exchange a bit of backgrounds and stories. I explain to him that I was there on vacation from New York City. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to tell you, about why I’m here. I know in the previous post, I relished the fact that I was finally free to travel. I have a good job with high pay. But this is a means, not an end, is it? Money provides me a means to travel, but to what end?
These days, I find myself in the motions, pushed forward by ephemeral motivations. I tell myself I would do these things for x, y, and z purposes, but would often find these change on a whim later on. Perhaps this is life? It’s as though my opinions and beliefs are in constant flux as I go about my daily lives. Always changing, always growing, always refining my ideas.
We say our goodbyes and I get back on my motorcycle, a dingy little single cylinder I had rented hours before from Oleander Cycles. Eighty bucks for a day. Not bad. It’s getting darker now so I flip the switch to my headlight. Houses in various pastel colours surround me, huddled together. Darkness continues to abate whatever light there was left. The crickets’ chirrs are getting ever louder. I will miss this place.
For my GoPro clips of this trip, click here: https://vimeo.com/100598444