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Sometimes I dream of being somewhere else - and not always when I'm asleep. I dream places I have been, places I haven't been and places that do not exist outside the pages of books or the corners of my imagination. When I wake up I lie still, willing myself to be in a warm sleeping bag in a cold morning on the hard ground in the distant mountains. And then I open my eyes in my own bedroom.
And then I write.
Five Dreams of Travel
1. Iguassu
Below I hear the thunder roar,
While in the sky I turn and soar,
Become the spirit of the air
Escape the Gods of Water's Lair.
2. Peru
The morning mists that hide the view
Have filled the world with silence too,
But here and there the cover breaks
And ancient Machu Picchu takes
The centre stage in my mind's eye.
I, from the Sun Gate, watch and sigh.
3. Bryce Canyon
The world is full of twisted spires
In hues of roses, berries, fires.
The path I tread that weaves between
The maze-like walls, the deep ravine,
Is lit by random fractured light -
Here dark, there light, here dark, there light.
The canyon's rocks like dancers stand
In frozen stately saraband.
4. Philippines
A fire is set upon the sand
And in the dark she holds my hand.
I want to turn to see here face,
But time has fixed me in my place.
5. China
The boat is long and low and wide,
The water grey and slow: we glide
Through mountains mirrored low and high
Upon the river that holds the sky.
----------------------------------------------------
Notes:
1. I walked on the wooden paths that they have built in the safer parts of the falls, I approached the thundering cataract in a boat, I descended through the trees on the tracks to approach the base where the noise made all thought of speech impossible and the spray soaked me to the skin in the space of a single heartbeat - but best of all I flew high above the the falls in a helicopter and saw them in all their glory, as if a Titan's axe had been smashed into the ground and then lifted to leave a raw and gaping wound in the planets side.
2. We reached the Sun Gate before dawn, hiking up the last few kilometres of the Inca trail in the dark. We stood, breathless and eager, and waited for the dawn. Mist covered the ruins, stole the view and deadened all sound. Here and there, now and again, it parted, gave a tantalising view of the ruins and I imagined them as they might have been, covered in gold, full of the buzz of a living city waking to a new day.
3. A row of rocks that looked like musicians turned to stone lined the rim of Bryce Canyon. Turning around I saw another that looked for all the world like a pedestal with a civic statue of Queen Victoria. Everything was in shades of red, everything looked like roses or berries or fire. The path was smooth and flat and even and took me through an alien landscape, through a Martian wonderland. Or perhaps, as the morning sun turned the twisted rock to flames, the road to hell.
4. In the distance there was a fire on the sand and people trying to celebrate the new year with fireworks. We sat at the end of the beach on a log and held hands in silence. There was the soft lapping sound of the waves, the faint rustle of the trees behind us. And now, even in the dreams, I am almost unable to recall her face. Perhaps I will have the dream again and be able to turn to see her. Or perhaps not.
5. The Karst scenery rose all around us like the molehills of the gods. The water was slow as the boat drifted along the surface. I played counting games with a Chinese girl who knew only the numbers in English. The water was a perfect reflection of the mountains and the sky. Cormorant fisherman watched from the shallows, villagers watched from the shore. We watched them watching us.
And then I write.
Five Dreams of Travel
1. Iguassu
Below I hear the thunder roar,
While in the sky I turn and soar,
Become the spirit of the air
Escape the Gods of Water's Lair.
2. Peru
The morning mists that hide the view
Have filled the world with silence too,
But here and there the cover breaks
And ancient Machu Picchu takes
The centre stage in my mind's eye.
I, from the Sun Gate, watch and sigh.
3. Bryce Canyon
The world is full of twisted spires
In hues of roses, berries, fires.
The path I tread that weaves between
The maze-like walls, the deep ravine,
Is lit by random fractured light -
Here dark, there light, here dark, there light.
The canyon's rocks like dancers stand
In frozen stately saraband.
4. Philippines
A fire is set upon the sand
And in the dark she holds my hand.
I want to turn to see here face,
But time has fixed me in my place.
5. China
The boat is long and low and wide,
The water grey and slow: we glide
Through mountains mirrored low and high
Upon the river that holds the sky.
----------------------------------------------------
Notes:
1. I walked on the wooden paths that they have built in the safer parts of the falls, I approached the thundering cataract in a boat, I descended through the trees on the tracks to approach the base where the noise made all thought of speech impossible and the spray soaked me to the skin in the space of a single heartbeat - but best of all I flew high above the the falls in a helicopter and saw them in all their glory, as if a Titan's axe had been smashed into the ground and then lifted to leave a raw and gaping wound in the planets side.
2. We reached the Sun Gate before dawn, hiking up the last few kilometres of the Inca trail in the dark. We stood, breathless and eager, and waited for the dawn. Mist covered the ruins, stole the view and deadened all sound. Here and there, now and again, it parted, gave a tantalising view of the ruins and I imagined them as they might have been, covered in gold, full of the buzz of a living city waking to a new day.
3. A row of rocks that looked like musicians turned to stone lined the rim of Bryce Canyon. Turning around I saw another that looked for all the world like a pedestal with a civic statue of Queen Victoria. Everything was in shades of red, everything looked like roses or berries or fire. The path was smooth and flat and even and took me through an alien landscape, through a Martian wonderland. Or perhaps, as the morning sun turned the twisted rock to flames, the road to hell.
4. In the distance there was a fire on the sand and people trying to celebrate the new year with fireworks. We sat at the end of the beach on a log and held hands in silence. There was the soft lapping sound of the waves, the faint rustle of the trees behind us. And now, even in the dreams, I am almost unable to recall her face. Perhaps I will have the dream again and be able to turn to see her. Or perhaps not.
5. The Karst scenery rose all around us like the molehills of the gods. The water was slow as the boat drifted along the surface. I played counting games with a Chinese girl who knew only the numbers in English. The water was a perfect reflection of the mountains and the sky. Cormorant fisherman watched from the shallows, villagers watched from the shore. We watched them watching us.
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