It begins with a dream. And so it did. Reading Robert Bly’s “Iron John” I decided that a trip with just Dad was overdue. And once we’d decided upon Cornwall – back to the old country – it was only a moment before I began plotting my onward adventure. Russia had long been in my little black book. Early high school geography days gave me a fix on Lake Baikal, the biggest and deepest freshwater lake on the planet. And a romanticism lingered in me for long cross-continental rail journeys. And ’twas only another moment before I realised that Russian lessons would need to happen fast. This was happening all awhile I was searching for a house to buy. And buy I did. And fly I did just 6 weeks later.
[Early morning on the day of departure]
Just one hour’s sleep before taxi ride to Perth International. Since 1830 hours the previous day, a sequence of chaotic multi-tasking madness. All inevitably rushing to a desired singularity: two backpacks, one naked body in boots on a set of scales. Yes! I’m under the limit.