It’s July first, 2014. Canada day. Canada’s one hundred and forty-seventh birthday. Bryan and I are sitting at a small wooden table, jammed up against the wooden railing of Emma’s Back Porch, sipping double Caesars and grazing on poutine while we look out over the hazy golden twilight of lake Ontario.
The Caesars go down smoothly. Our conversation hops around; from the typical sports and film talk, to deeper talks of women, relationships, careers, happiness.
It occurs to me that despite our close group of friends, Ovie and I have hardly had one-on-one time before. We talk about our good friend James, fresh departed for the rocky mountains, and I begin to think of the inevitable diaspora of people; how we, as a species, crave movement, exploration, adventure. How we always crave leaving home.
As if on cue he says “I’ve always wanted to travel. I think I’ve reached a stage in my life where the conditions are perfect. There’s nothing holding me back, no responsibility here weighing me down.”
I’m unconsciously nodding. I myself having thought the exact same thing several times over a matter of years, but always lacking the proverbial kick-in-the-pants to take action.
“Wouldn’t it be awesome to, I don’t know, go over to Europe? Do like a month or so of travel, Amsterdam, Germany, Barcelona?”
“I think I’m just craving some pure, uninhibited experience. It’s finally time.”
The sun continues to dip low and we know the fireworks are on their way. Our timid server mouses her way to our backwater table, she says “you guys alright?”
“Just the bill whenever you get a moment.”
“Seriously though man, let’s give this some actual thought. This could be really cool.”
We pay the lady and leave. After smoking something relaxing, we head through Spencer Smith Park, watching the young girls in their white dresses and headbands, glow sticks in hand, dancing and frolicking in the grass like summer sprites. We find a comfortable patch of grass near the orchestra. The fireworks dazzle as promised, an explosion of light and sound, all in the honour of our great home country. But our minds are secretly thinking about all the countries out there we can visit.
We didn’t speak about travel any more that night. And part of me thought that we wouldn’t again. Four days later I get a text message from Ovie.
<Milne bud, lets get together tonight and talk travel plans!>
To my surprise, I’m relieved. This, finally, might be the time that I stop thinking about travel and actually take action and go on an adventure.
<OK. I’ll grill some steaks. Come over for dinner and we’ll hash it out>
I run some errands, grab some groceries, a few steaks, and a bottle of wine. I know it should be red with steak, but it's hot a balmy July night. A refreshing white was necessary.
Later, after dinner, we finally reach the subject that was the night’s purpose. “So where we going?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. Ovie leans forward.
“Ok, so I was thinking, ya we could go on a Eurotrip. Spend a month bombing around, dropping tons of cash, having the time of our lives, right? But then after a month we come back, and then what? We’ve had fun, but have we changed? How about we go to New Zealand. They have a working holiday there, we spend up to a year there, and come back changed. Come back different people!”
New Zealand.
I looked at the bottle of wine we were drinking. Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc. From Marlborough, New Zealand.
Bingo.
Was it coincidence? Or was something larger at work? I keep milling it over in my head, never approaching an answer. All I know is, it was a sign.
“Yep. We’re going.”
That was the night we decided to go to New Zealand. Our change of mood was instantaneous. We talked faster, louder (the wine may have helped) we were instilled with a thirst for life that I don’t think neither of us had quite experienced until that moment. We immediately began hashing out the feasibility of our project. At that point we hadn't even dream of starting the blog.
“So, are we actually talking about this, or are we talking about talking about this?” Ove asks.
I looked at the bottle of wine, the label a pale off-white, the ridged curves of the Richmond Range mountains slowly fading into the distant expanse of white. I picked it up, pointed at the lable.
“We’re going to go there. Right. There.”
“Alright then.”
Months passed fast, then slow, then fast, then slow. We approached each day with a new energy- our efforts at work and home were now geared to a purpose, a direct and measurable goal. Daily, texts would come through randomly, without any purpose or direction. Just:
<New Zealand, man!>
or
<Can’t freakin wait!>
It was like two adventures. One leading up to the flight, and one after. So much time has passed since that night.
And just the other day, we arrived in Marlborough: the heart of New Zealand’s wine industry. For those who don’t need work, or those who don’t care for wine, it’s a fairly uninteresting area of NZ. But for us, it carries a very important significance.
The Caesars go down smoothly. Our conversation hops around; from the typical sports and film talk, to deeper talks of women, relationships, careers, happiness.
It occurs to me that despite our close group of friends, Ovie and I have hardly had one-on-one time before. We talk about our good friend James, fresh departed for the rocky mountains, and I begin to think of the inevitable diaspora of people; how we, as a species, crave movement, exploration, adventure. How we always crave leaving home.
As if on cue he says “I’ve always wanted to travel. I think I’ve reached a stage in my life where the conditions are perfect. There’s nothing holding me back, no responsibility here weighing me down.”
I’m unconsciously nodding. I myself having thought the exact same thing several times over a matter of years, but always lacking the proverbial kick-in-the-pants to take action.
“Wouldn’t it be awesome to, I don’t know, go over to Europe? Do like a month or so of travel, Amsterdam, Germany, Barcelona?”
“I think I’m just craving some pure, uninhibited experience. It’s finally time.”
The sun continues to dip low and we know the fireworks are on their way. Our timid server mouses her way to our backwater table, she says “you guys alright?”
“Just the bill whenever you get a moment.”
“Seriously though man, let’s give this some actual thought. This could be really cool.”
We pay the lady and leave. After smoking something relaxing, we head through Spencer Smith Park, watching the young girls in their white dresses and headbands, glow sticks in hand, dancing and frolicking in the grass like summer sprites. We find a comfortable patch of grass near the orchestra. The fireworks dazzle as promised, an explosion of light and sound, all in the honour of our great home country. But our minds are secretly thinking about all the countries out there we can visit.
We didn’t speak about travel any more that night. And part of me thought that we wouldn’t again. Four days later I get a text message from Ovie.
<Milne bud, lets get together tonight and talk travel plans!>
To my surprise, I’m relieved. This, finally, might be the time that I stop thinking about travel and actually take action and go on an adventure.
<OK. I’ll grill some steaks. Come over for dinner and we’ll hash it out>
I run some errands, grab some groceries, a few steaks, and a bottle of wine. I know it should be red with steak, but it's hot a balmy July night. A refreshing white was necessary.
Later, after dinner, we finally reach the subject that was the night’s purpose. “So where we going?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. Ovie leans forward.
“Ok, so I was thinking, ya we could go on a Eurotrip. Spend a month bombing around, dropping tons of cash, having the time of our lives, right? But then after a month we come back, and then what? We’ve had fun, but have we changed? How about we go to New Zealand. They have a working holiday there, we spend up to a year there, and come back changed. Come back different people!”
New Zealand.
I looked at the bottle of wine we were drinking. Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc. From Marlborough, New Zealand.
Bingo.
Was it coincidence? Or was something larger at work? I keep milling it over in my head, never approaching an answer. All I know is, it was a sign.
“Yep. We’re going.”
That was the night we decided to go to New Zealand. Our change of mood was instantaneous. We talked faster, louder (the wine may have helped) we were instilled with a thirst for life that I don’t think neither of us had quite experienced until that moment. We immediately began hashing out the feasibility of our project. At that point we hadn't even dream of starting the blog.
“So, are we actually talking about this, or are we talking about talking about this?” Ove asks.
I looked at the bottle of wine, the label a pale off-white, the ridged curves of the Richmond Range mountains slowly fading into the distant expanse of white. I picked it up, pointed at the lable.
“We’re going to go there. Right. There.”
“Alright then.”
Months passed fast, then slow, then fast, then slow. We approached each day with a new energy- our efforts at work and home were now geared to a purpose, a direct and measurable goal. Daily, texts would come through randomly, without any purpose or direction. Just:
<New Zealand, man!>
or
<Can’t freakin wait!>
It was like two adventures. One leading up to the flight, and one after. So much time has passed since that night.
And just the other day, we arrived in Marlborough: the heart of New Zealand’s wine industry. For those who don’t need work, or those who don’t care for wine, it’s a fairly uninteresting area of NZ. But for us, it carries a very important significance.
Sometimes, a split decision can provide you with more than a well-debated choice ever can. That we are all much more capable and extraordinary than we believe. We can, with a little determination, take that first step towards achieving anything we set down for ourselves. Your body moves before your brain has a chance to warn it. Taking first step is always the hardest.
We didn’t even go into Cloudy Bay. But to see the sign outside the vineyard, thinking about all we have done, all we have learned, all we have seen, and all we have changed in the time leading up to that moment, that was one of the best moments during our time in New Zealand.
It was a moment rich with a single, powerful thought. A thought that took our spirits and lifted them up higher than they’ve ever been.
The thought that after all this distance and all this dedication in the 230 days since we took that first step, we’d made it.
But we still know we have so many more dreams to ensure, so many more dragons to slay. We remember where we've come from, and we know where we've been.
All that's left is to keep chasing the horizon.
To keep taking first steps.
To keep on making it.
-K & B
All that's left is to keep chasing the horizon.
To keep taking first steps.
To keep on making it.
-K & B