Leaving Central America behind, we had lot´s of moments and places that we consider to be our favorites. Rather than list them out for you I wanted to share a writing of Jed´s that I think sum´s up our feelings:
The day starts with my morning surf session that allows me to watch the sun rise slowly between two volcanoes, turning the sky a beautiful pink then purple hue. The waves slowly rise and fall like the belly of a sleeping giant. The sunrise itself makes the early day perfect. I catch a wave to shore and slowly walk back to the shade of our surf camp. I gently wake Meg with the dank smell of fresh El Salvadoran coffee and apple banana pancakes. She is slow to rise, but does it with a beautiful smile. After a kiss and a good hug we settle in to a rich and delicious breakfast beneath the swinging palm trees.
The cooler morning temps invite us for a run along a hilly dirt road bordered by the ocean and fields of lazy cows. We soon fall into a sweaty rhythm set by our breathing and drifting thoughts. The occasional large lizard is the only thing that interrupts our path. Volcanoes and floating clouds loom over the extravagantly green landscape of hilly cow pastures and dense jungle. The heat soon builds and the lure of our shady camp is too great so we turn around as the sun looms over head.
A quick cold shower and some water sets us up for the rest of the morning. Meg grabs her yoga pad and finds a peaceful nook in the sand beneath the palms. Breathing the salty air and bending with the trees, she flows into herself and feels her thoughts simplify with each movement.
I pull my 3 different tool boxes out of various cubbies in the camper. Taking a minute to make a mental list of various vehicular up keep that is necessary to keep the rig running smooth. The unlocking of doors, unlatching of the hood and the familiar inner workings of my truck eases my mind into the simple tasks at hand; checking various fluids, wiggling wires, tightening the occasional loose nut. This is my yoga.
After an hour or so of crawling under and around my dirt covered truck I pack my tools, bandage my busted knuckle from a slipped wrench and stare at our home. It will make it to the next country.
Meg pulls her board from the truck and slips into the sea in search of some waves. A few seconds of gliding harmony with the ocean is all surfing really comes down to. I ease into my chair and unfold our maps, flipping through a guide book in search of our next move in this slow drive through the Americas. The wind picks up and flutters my map. The pages in the book freely spin with the breeze until my hand abruptly stops them. After a moment I look down to the page under my hand. Volcan Cosiguina catches my eye. Our next destination has been found.
I look to the ocean as my amazing wife slowly walks up the dark beach towards me grasping her surf board. Remnants of the sea drip from her glowing red pony tail as she smiles. It’s going to be another great day.
We settle in to our hammocks as the bright blue ocean pounds the dark volcanic sand sending us a rhythm to sway to. The palm trees loom above, vaguely threatening to drop their coconuts on us. The breeze is perfect, not stiff enough to send the beach sand flying, but strong enough to offer relief from the oppressive heat. Meg sits in her hammock typing the blog while playing some relaxing music. The mood is set, total tranquil.