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eyssant · 5 months

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Discovering Banff: A Guide to Wilderness Exploration

Banff National Park is a site of unmatched beauty and wonder, tucked away amid the untamed grandeur of the Canadian Rockies. Banff is more than simply a park—it's a monument to the unadulterated strength and amazing beauty of nature, spanning over 6,641 square kilometers of pure wilderness. Banff has a wide range of experiences that enthrall the spirit and capture the soul, from its towering peaks to its glistening lakes. We'll explore the numerous attractions, activities, and seasonal variations of Banff National Park in this all-inclusive itinerary.

Discovering Banff's Natural Splendor

At the heart of Banff's allure lies its diverse and awe-inspiring landscapes. Towering mountain peaks, cascading waterfalls, and emerald-green forests create a tapestry of natural beauty that is nothing short of breathtaking. One of the park's most iconic features is Lake Louise, whose turquoise waters reflect the surrounding glaciers and snow-capped peaks with stunning clarity. Nearby, Moraine Lake captivates visitors with its vibrant hues and dramatic setting, earning its place as one of the most photographed locations in the Canadian Rockies.

For those seeking adventure, Banff's extensive network of trails offers endless opportunities for exploration. From leisurely strolls through verdant valleys to challenging ascents up rugged mountain peaks, there's a hike for every skill level and inclination. Johnston Canyon Trail, with its scenic pathways and breathtaking waterfalls, is a favorite among visitors of all ages. Meanwhile, the Plain of Six Glaciers Trail rewards intrepid hikers with panoramic views of glaciers and alpine meadows, showcasing the park's untamed beauty in all its glory.

Engaging Activities for Every Season

Banff National Park is a playground for outdoor enthusiasts, offering a plethora of activities to suit every interest and season. In the winter months, the park transforms into a winter wonderland, with world-class skiing and snowboarding opportunities at resorts such as Lake Louise and Sunshine Village. The crisp mountain air and pristine snow-covered landscapes create an idyllic setting for snowshoeing, ice skating, and ice climbing while cozying up by a crackling fire with a cup of hot cocoa is the perfect way to unwind after a day of exploration.

As the snow melts and spring arrives, Banff bursts to life with vibrant colors and renewed vitality. Wildflowers blanket the meadows, and the sound of rushing water fills the air as rivers and waterfalls swell with the melting snow. Spring is the perfect time for wildlife viewing, as bears, elk, and other native species emerge from their winter slumber in search of food and mates. Guided wildlife tours offer the chance to observe these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat while learning about the park's delicate ecosystem and conservation efforts.

Summer in Banff is a time of endless adventure and outdoor pursuits. Hiking, biking, and rock climbing are popular activities, with trails ranging from easy family-friendly walks to challenging backcountry treks. The park's pristine lakes and rivers provide ample opportunities for kayaking, canoeing, and paddleboarding, while fishing enthusiasts can cast their lines in search of trout and other native species. Camping under the stars is a quintessential summer experience, with campgrounds nestled amidst towering pines and breathtaking mountain vistas.

Timing Your Visit: Seasons and Climate

The best time to visit Banff National Park largely depends on the activities you wish to pursue and your tolerance for crowds and varying weather conditions. Summer (June to August) is the busiest time of year, with long daylight hours and mild temperatures ideal for hiking, camping, and wildlife viewing. However, be prepared for crowds and book accommodations well in advance, especially if you plan to visit popular attractions like Lake Louise and Moraine Lake.

Winter (November to April) transforms Banff into a snowy paradise, with world-class skiing and snowboarding drawing winter sports enthusiasts from around the globe. The ski season typically peaks between December and February, offering optimal snow conditions and a wide range of terrain for skiers and snowboarders of all levels.

Spring (April to June) and fall (September to October) offer a quieter and more tranquil experience, with milder temperatures and fewer crowds. Spring is particularly beautiful, with wildflowers in bloom and wildlife emerging from hibernation, while fall brings vibrant foliage and crisp mountain air, making it an ideal time for hiking and photography.

Banff’s weather is characterized by cold winters and mild summers. Winter temperatures can plummet well below freezing, with heavy snowfall common in the higher elevations. Summer temperatures are generally mild, with daytime highs averaging around 20-25°C (68-77°F) in the valleys, although temperatures can vary significantly depending on elevation.

It's important to come prepared for changing weather conditions, especially if you plan to explore the higher elevations. Dressing in layers and packing essential gear such as waterproof clothing, sunscreen, and insect repellent will ensure a comfortable and enjoyable experience.

Conclusion: Embrace the Adventure

Banff National Park is more than just a destination; it's an experience that awakens the senses and nourishes the soul. Whether you're drawn to its rugged mountain peaks, tranquil lakes, or abundant wildlife, Banff offers a wealth of opportunities for exploration and adventure. From exhilarating outdoor pursuits to moments of quiet reflection amidst nature's grandeur, Banff invites visitors to immerse themselves fully in its timeless beauty and create memories that will last a lifetime. So pack your bags, lace up your hiking boots, and embark on a journey of discovery in one of the world's most awe-inspiring wilderness destinations. Banff awaits, ready to enchant and inspire all who venture into its embrace.

#banff national park #travel #explore #banffcanada

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starryviolentine · 4 years

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Camp Paya (A Pre-Apocalypse Story): Chapter 1/?

Part three of the “Pre-Apocalypse Adventures” Series

( Part one: Brody’s Diary | Part two: Color Me Blue )

After lying dormant through another multi-seasonal slumber, safely tucked underneath blankets of red autumn leaves, cold snowy down, and dew from weeks of springtime showers, the grounds of Camp Paya have woken with the summer sunshine, well-rested and ready for this year’s hustle and bustle. Stretching three-quarters of a mile due northeast from Ericson Academy, the path to camp lies right in the middle of a beautiful valley, nestled cozily between a backdrop of mountains and a rocky riverbank. With the trickling of the nearby river, the chittering of wildlife, and the crunching of fallen foliage underfoot—all amidst a forest of trees as far as the eye can see—the short hike to the campgrounds makes for the most perfect, peaceful trek.

Unless, of course, it’s mid-June and your name is Therissa Nicole Lannister.

Therissa realized a little too late that it probably wasn’t the best idea to wear her favorite pair of black jeans and clunky combat boots this morning. And maybe she shouldn’t have brought such an enormous bag with her, nor packed it with so much stuff that it’s nearly bursting at the seams. The teenager’s face is flushed, side-swept bangs matted to her forehead with sweat, and the feeling of hot, damp fabric jammed under her armpits is seriously grossing her out. God, she hates summer. And she hates nature. Dealing with both at the same time is a double whammy of the absolute worst sort.

Having spent the summer stuck at Camp Paya once already, after which she swore to herself she would never go back again, this isn’t even the first time Therissa’s been up this path. But she doesn’t remember it being so… uphill, and the sheer weight of her luggage pulling down on her arms like an anchor is making the journey feel ten times longer than it did when she was fourteen. At this point, Therissa has given up on carrying her duffel bag, which feels like it could possibly weigh more than her roommate Violet, and is dragging it through the dirt behind her.

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Therissa grumps through gritted teeth. “It’s too freaking hot.”

From a few steps ahead, a long-haired blonde turns to her right, making eye contact with the twin-tailed girl walking beside her, and the two of them break into giggles.

“Oh, yeah, haha. We’ll see who’s laughing when they wake up to a big, ugly spider on their pillow tomorrow morning.”

“Therissa, look,” says Brody, excitement in her voice as she points overhead at the wooden welcome sign just a short distance away. “We’re here!” The girl takes off running, but comes to a stop right before she passes under it. Bringing her feet together, she leaps to the other side as though crossing a threshold to another world.

As instructed, the incoming campers drop their bags off in a pile near a wooden playground, then follow the arrow of the nearby signpost pointing them to the main outdoor gathering space known as “The Pit.” The Pit is a large, square fire pit with rows of log benches around three of its sides and a raised platform covered by an overhead structure—also made out of logs—on the remaining side. At night, when the campfire is lit, this is where the campers have singalongs, roast marshmallows, and tell ghost stories. Right now, though, it’s where they’ve been told to sit and wait until it’s time for the orientation meeting to start.

Unlike Violet, who came here last year, and Therissa, who came a few summers ago, this is Brody’s very first time at Camp Paya. It’s the first summer that she won’t be spending at home with her family. Even though she won’t get to go to the neighborhood pool with her brothers this year, or visit Nana and Papa in Rhode Island like they do every July for her birthday, Brody’s really looking forward to spending the next couple of months having fun summer adventures with her friends… and maybe she’ll even make new friends! Brody has a good feeling that this is going to be the best summer ever.

Once all the campers have gathered and all the benches are full, a middle-aged woman in a ranger hat blows her whistle and gets up on the platform, cheerfully announcing that the opening ceremony is about to start. Violet, who has been particularly quiet since their arrival, sits close to Brody, chewing on her bottom lip. She’s glad—really glad—that her best friend decided to stay and go to camp with her this year, but there’s already one thing that she’s dreading.

“Oh, I hope we’re in the same cabin!” Hands clasped together under her chin, Brody unintentionally voices what Violet has been worrying about. “And Therissa, too. Wouldn’t it be perfect if we were all together?”

Mouth feeling dry, Violet can only nod.

The opening ceremony kicks off with an introductory speech by the woman with the whistle and hat, who turns out to be Camp Paya’s director, Pamela Wheeler. For the next several minutes, Ms. Pam outlines the camp rules and weekly schedule, but then gestures to the row of people standing at one end of the platform. They come onto the stage, all wearing the same beige button-up shirt and red neckerchief tie as Ms. Pam, and introduce themselves as this year’s camp counselors. Together, they give a brief overview of the different sports, crafts and activities available to the campers, as well as what sort of special events are on the program this year, like the night hike and the Camp Paya Talent Showcase.

When one of the counselors mentions the “Night Under the Stars” outdoor campout that happens every other week, Brody gasps and turns to her left, expecting Violet to be just as over the moon as she is, but her friend doesn’t look like she’s paying attention to the presentation at all. Instead, her face is hard as stone and her eyes are dark, and the way that she’s crossing her arms tightly around her gives off the impression that she’s angry. But Brody knows her best friend, and she knows that this is just what Violet looks like when something’s bugging her.

Before Brody can ask about it, a bit of microphone feedback startles her into looking back towards the stage. Thanking the counselors, Ms. Pam takes the mic and addresses the campers once again. “Now for the moment I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for,” she says with a warm smile. “Cabin announcements! Could all of our teen leaders please come up to the stage?”

“Well, that’s my cue.” Therissa heaves a sigh and gets to her feet. Before leaving, she glances at Brody and Violet and smirks at the sheer amount of anxiety written on both of their faces. “Look, even if you end up in different cabins, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll live.”

A dozen or so teenagers make their way to the stage, and the counselors hand them each a clipboard containing the list of names of the campers they will be looking after. Ms. Pam waits until all of the lists have all been distributed before continuing. “These lovely young men and women are going to be your cabin leaders this summer. They’re here to help, so if you ever have any questions or need assistance, you can go to any of them at any time. Anyway, without further ado, let’s begin with Cabin One!”

One by one, the leaders go down the line, introducing themselves and reading off the names of their cabin groups. By the time the first couple of cabins have been sorted out, the dynamics are pretty clear. Two teen leaders to a cabin, and each leader is in charge of six campers. That makes for seven people in a group and a total of fourteen people per cabin. Cabin assignments never take more than a few minutes from start to finish, but for Violet and Brody, whose names have yet to be called even after reaching Cabin Four, it’s an endless, nerve-racking wait. With three cabins to go, there’s still a high chance that they could end up getting separated.

The second leader in Cabin Four turns out to be Therissa, who shuffles to center stage staring down at her clipboard, an unreadable expression on her face. When Samantha, her co-leader, hands her the microphone, Therissa pulls the cord toward her a bit too quickly, causing the speakers to let out a dreadful, high-pitched screech. The sudden noise makes a bunch of the campers jump and cover their ears.

“Oh, sh—” Somehow, Therissa is able to stop herself from swearing in time. Ms. Pam is looking at her sternly, eyes practically bugging out of her sockets. “—sh... orry. Sorry. I’m Therissa, the, uh, other leader of Cabin Four. Looks like the following six people are going to be stuck with me all summer, so if I call your name, good luck to you!” Looking down at her clipboard again, Therissa begins to read off her list. “Becca Gray. Ruby Hillis. Violet Gideon.” The teen’s voice changes, becoming more playful as the familiar name leaves her lips.

Letting out an immense sigh of relief, Violet drops her head into her hands. “Thank god.”

Brody’s back stiffens and she sits up straight as a pin at the very edge of her seat. Now she has to be in Cabin Four, too! The auburn-haired presses her hands together and squeezes her eyes shut. Please, oh, please! Pretty please with whipped cream and hot fudge and rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top...

“Erin Ro… Rosen… bach... Rosenbacher. Wow, okay, I totally just butchered that. My bad, Erin. Amy McCoy… and…” Pausing right before the sixth name, Therissa looks up from her clipboard and out at the audience. The mischievous glint in her eyes is the only hint that she might be dragging things out on purpose.

Nearly slipping off the bench from anticipation, Brody’s heart begins to pound. She focuses all of her energy into a prayer that she mumbles under her breath. “Please, please, please…”

“Aaand that’s it!” Therissa exclaims loudly, holding the clipboard in the air and shrugging. She searches through the sea of faces until she spots her roommates in the crowd. Violet is patting Brody, who has frozen in shock and looks absolutely devastated, on the shoulder to comfort her. Sucking in a sharp breath, the teenager shakes her head and starts to laugh. “Just kidding! And Brody Burress. Come find me!” Flashing a backwards, sideways peace sign, Therissa passes the mic to the next leader and makes her way off the stage.

Violet halts mid-pat and furrows her eyebrows as she tries to wrap her head around what happened. She’s not quite sure if that was supposed to be Therissa’s attempt at a joke or what, but at least this means that she and Brody get to be cabin mates after all. The blonde looks across the firepit at her oldest roommate again, watching in stunned silence as the teenager steps down from the platform, spinning smoothly on her heels, and goes to stand near the entrance to The Pit. As Therissa walks away with a smug smile and a spring in her step, she almost looks like she’s dancing.

#twdg brody #twdg violet #twdg #the walking dead game #twdg therissa #camp paya #fanfic #here we go #brody twdg #violet twdg

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carnright · 7 years

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Slumber Valley Campground - Peaceful & Calming

Slumber Valley Campground – Peaceful & Calming

Falls in Meshoppen Creek that runs through Slumber Valley Campground

Slumber Valley Campgroundis located just outside of Meshoppen, Pennsylvania at 248 Meshoppen Creek Road. As the address indicates the campground has a creek that runs through it that offers fishing and swimming for the kiddos. It has a nature trail, is pet friendly and has a very large playground for the kids offering…

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#camping #fishing #Meshoppen #Pennsylvania #Slumber Valley Campground #tent camping

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nickledpink · 5 years

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Another successful Pig Roast at Slumber Valley in the books—and we couldn’t have asked for better weather! 🍂🏕🌤 #glitzandham #camping #nepa #slumbervalleycampground #pennsylvania (at Slumber Valley Campground) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2uS0EQHKoA/?igshid=j6kybeypcb5i

#glitzandham #camping #nepa #slumbervalleycampground #pennsylvania

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justaramblingromantic · 7 years

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Dragon Song

Characters/Pairing: Nakiri Alice and Kurokiba Ryou, Nakiri Leonora and Nakiri Soe/ RyoAli, SoeNora

Type: Fantasy/Medieval!AU, Dragon Heart!verse, Freestyle, Established Relationship

Word Count: 2429

A/N I: Was absently doing some side character development/planning for Dragon Heart, but said side characters ran off with the plot (at least this particular branch of the Nakiri family did), so I ended up with this drabble. For this, I blame all of you spreading the RyoAli!germs around - I’m coming down with another case of OTP!withdrawal and this was probably the result...!

A/N II: Will put up a glossary (of sorts) to explain some terms at the endnote, so for now just hang tight and enjoy!

She woke up alone but was entirely unsurprised; her partner was an early riser and by now he knew better than to rouse her from her slumber until she was good and ready to do so on her own. Stretching out like a drowsy feline tangled amongst heavy pelts of cozy furs, she rolled over onto her belly and briefly snuggled into the faint indent on his side of the tent. His warmth was long gone, leeched away by the relentless chill of the Northern morn, but his scent still lingered and she inhaled happily, filling her lungs with sea salt brine and musky spice.

She was content to curl into the nook he had left behind, at least for a little while more, dozing, and it was another hour or so before she was roused enough to start her day, as the sun drifted higher up over the pale blue skies and the temperature started to warm…just slightly. Even though it was summer, this far North in Tootsuki, the weather was almost always freezing. Sitting up languidly, the fur covers slipped down her lush figure, revealing alabaster curves and silken skin, gooseflesh already starting to pebble from the cold, but she seemed impervious otherwise. Running her slender fingers through sleep tousled silver hair, she started to hum softly under her breath as she finally left the warmth of the furred bedding and crawled out of the tent, entirely, unabashedly, nude as she stood before the empty campground, sloe-eyed crimson surveying the breathtaking view before her.

Steep, craggy snowcapped glacier mountains stretched towards the endless crystal blue skies an impossible distance away. A few meters from where she stood, a fjord that fed into the sea snaked out before her, the calm surface pristine like a mirror’s reflection, twining sinuously through the vast and stark alpine ranges, carved into sheer bedrock stretching for hundreds of miles after millions of years of inchingly slow, geological upheaval. There was hardly any vegetation all around; nothing but the glaring white of snow and the contrasting dark greyness of rocky, jagged valleys and quietly lapping water. The harsh Northern sun bore down overhead, almost biting in its sheer intensity, but everything turned to gold where it touched.

This was home.

Beautiful but desolate. Harsh and unforgiving at times, but she would not have it any other way, just as she could not imagine living anywhere else. Her blood was tied here; she was born to this breathtakingly bleak, vast, untamed land, and here she would always return to.

It seemed like she was the only sentient being for miles and miles around, but appearances could be deceiving. She knew that she wasn’t alone; he was somewhere around too…

She wandered a few steps closer to the water’s edge, comfortably barefoot, yet her movements remained airy and graceful as a dancer. Ethereal. She was in a good mood, but then again, she had every right to be, her body loose and limber, still thrumming, glowing and well loved…

She opened her mouth, and started to sing.

Her head voice was haunting, a pristine, lingering kulning vocalized in the lost language of her people. Long, carrying notes echoed off the mountain ranges, resounding across the fjord and the valleys with lilting clarity, an impressive pitch carrying crystal clear over incredible distances. Her song was riveting, enthralling, captivating the hearts and minds of all who were within hearing range, immediately held in the adamantine grip of her lulling, enchanting voice.

She closed her eyes and sang the story of a beautiful Leanan Sidhe, with a head of fine silver hair like moonspun silk and mesmerizing eyes of blood rubies. She was the most beautiful of her kind; flawless skin of ivory, the spellbinding face of an angel’s, the willowy, graceful figure of the fae…and a divine voice that could send grown men dropping to their knees in prayer and euphoric worship.

There were none who could resist her exquisite presence – she was deeply loved by all who set eyes on her, who so much as heard her sublime songs. There were men who would kill for her, who would die gladly for her, just for the sheer privilege of hearing her sing.

But this beautiful Leanan Sidhe, even though adored and idolized by mortals – she was always sad, because for all of her endless wanderings across the realms, never once had she found that which she was fruitlessly searching for. A deep, persisting void grew in her chest day by day, a gaping emptiness that she sought in vain to fill through the enraptured, tortured souls who yearned for her but could never possess her, but their dedicated, ardent infatuations were never enough even when they surrendered their all to her. In despair and sorrow, this muse of the fae resigned herself to a miserable, wretched fate of constantly seeking…though for what…or whom…she knew not.

Perhaps this was the curse afflicted to those of her kind. Just as her beguiling presence elicited sheer madness and obsessive inspiration in the fractured minds of mortal men, so was she doomed to forever seeking for the elusive something that she would never find, that she would never be allowed to experience this feverish, frenetic euphoria and blissful anguish that she hungered for the most.

Love.

But one day, that all changed.

One day, passing across the violent, frenetic aftermath of a bloody battlefield, the Leanan Sidhe chanced upon a dying mortal man.

He was a Prince amongst men, an honorable warrior who fought valiantly for his men and for his Kingdom. In battle, he was ferocious and heroic, and even in defeat, the loyal, steadfast song that his soul sang with such strength and courage captivated her completely.

When she laid eyes on him, everything else fell away. Nestled cold and still in her chest, something trembled and started to stir. Her alabaster complexion tinged rose. Her fathomless crimson eyes glistened with the beginnings of emotion. Her breath caught in her throat.

She had spent her long, lonely existence searching forlornly for something that she knew not a thing about, but yet, at that very instant, she comprehended immediately and with complete certainty that she had found it. This precious, precious, most exquisite thing.

For his song resonated in such harmony with her own that it could not be mistaken for anything else.

Her eyes filled with tears. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, perfect in his human imperfection. He was hers.

And she could tell, from the moment their gazes met, that he had felt the inevitable pull too. She could not let him perish, now that she had finally, finally found him. So she took his life as her own instead, in the only way she knew how, in the only way she was allowed to. Tethering his soul to hers, binding them both together because that was right and that was how it should have been from the very beginning, how it should always be. Never mind that she would shorten her own immortal existence and share his human lifespan instead – for what possible existence could she have without her heart with her?

Song of my heart, you are the only song I’ll sing for the rest of my life.

And for this warrior Prince, she was his, too. Light of his life. Her beauty, her grace, her love both humbled and strengthened him. She was something that he did not entirely understand, but whose mysteries he would gladly spend the rest of his life trying to unravel. For her, he would use his shield and his sword to create a life they could share, build her a home in which to raise a family that was both his and hers. She was his muse, his motivation, his inspiration. Wife. Lover. Soulmate. Their joyous union eventually bore fruit in the form of a beautiful baby girl, a little halfling princess who was every bit as exquisite and spirited as her fae mother and brave and righteous as her royal father.

One day, this curious and fearless child princess of the North met a wild Jörmungandr dragonling…

The young woman standing right before the water’s edge allowed her pure, heady voice to trail off slowly, until the tender, dreamy, beguiling notes faded away completely, inadvertently imbuing the now utterly silent countryside with the faintest touch of the Otherworld. Smiling playfully, she reopened her eyes, a flicker of impish mischief glimmered in those unearthly captivating, ruby depths as she steadily, fearlessly met the dangerous, slit pupiled ones of the colossal serpent that she had summoned out of the deep fjord with her song.

The creature before her was amongst some of the most ferocious and savage looking species of dragons to exist. Cold, glittering red eyes, angular jaws lined with rows upon rows of razor sharp fangs each easily standing as tall as a full-grown man, and an intimidating, fearsome face plate studded with an impressive array of deadly horns and jagged spikes. Massive, impenetrable matte black scales covered the entire span of its long, coiling body, dynamically streamlined yet muscular. Sleek fins adorned its back and powerful tail. It possessed no limbs or wings, but this monolithic, aquatic dragon did not require any to swiftly, silently, glide through the icy, dark waters of its expansive territories as easily as though it was flying through air.

It reared its gargantuan head out of the water to peer at her, transparent nictitating membranes sliding back to uncover sharply intelligent reptilian eyes, arcing near enough that the icy water sluicing off the defined ridges of its armored hide threatened to soak her, but the young woman remained unafraid of this danger coming so close to her.

Because there was nothing to be afraid of.

Because, just as her father could never resist her mother’s call, so too was this particular dragon unable to resist hers.

Alice reached out and rested her hand on her mate’s massive snout.

“Ryou, I’m cold~”

His mind-voice rumbled in her head in reply, the same flat baritone as always tinged with exasperation.

…That’s ‘coz you’re naked as a jaybird right now, Princess.

She ignored his droll comment stating the obvious. It was really hard to seduce a three hundred feet long (at the moment) dragon, but she was determined to get her way all the same.

“Warm me up. Now!”

As you wish.

He obliged easily enough, snorting enough that the waters surrounding him were literally vibrating, and she pulled a face at the strong gust of warm air that nearly blew her backwards. Dragon breath. She squawked loudly and tottered a bit, stamping her feet in pique, looking less and less like the exquisitely graceful beauty that she had become, and more like the spoilt, tempestuous child brat he had known for almost all of his life.

“That’s not what I meant!!”

The faint flicker of amusement that radiated from him was almost enough to make her scowl and pout.

No time for that, Princess. Those envoys that your cousin Her Majesty sent from the capital will be here soon, and your father’s still waiting for us to report in after this patrol. Let’s go home.

She did not even blink when in a flash, that massive dragon before her shifted fluidly back into the form of a tall, well-built, dark haired man standing right before her. A very handsome in that wild, feral looking way, healthy, very fit man-god that she was trying really hard not to ogle at. Did she also mention that he was stark naked and dripping wet as well??

She managed to compose herself (and her unruly hormones) enough to give him a disdainful sniff instead, nose stuck high in the air and head turned away from him in petulant rejection.

“Noooo~ I’m not going anywhere until I feel like it, hmphh!”

He squinted slowly at her, expression still deadpan as always. She was obviously forgetting something important here.

In the past, he often indulged her tantrums because that was how it had always been done, thanks to the lenient and loving actions of her overly doting parents. Now, things were a bit different and his mark that sat on her left breast indicated as much. He stepped up to her, lowered his head and nipped at her exposed neck, fangs scraping tantalizingly against her porcelain flesh, one large, lean hand coming up to cup her bare chest, right over her thrumming heart, just in time to feel her pulse stutter at his casually possessive action.

She folded very quickly after that; just as he was unable to resist her call, so was she equally weak to his claim. He took advantage of her momentary distraction to pick her up and heft her over his shoulder; she was a tiny thing compared to himself. Without breaking stride, he strolled straight back towards their tent.

“Aah! Not fair!” She squirmed and kicked out with her bare feet, small fists thumping against the back of his shoulders in a fit of indignant temper but he had a good hold on her so she wasn’t going anywhere despite her best efforts. She also knew better than to bite him too, since he had no compulsion against biting back and they both knew who possessed the larger set of chompers between the two of them. “Ryou!! Do I look like a sack of potatoes to you?!! Let me down!”

“You can sulk on the way back, Princess. We gotta go, so let’s get dressed, saddle up, and then we’re leaving.”

She, of course, took advantage of her new position to grope his behind instead, completely shameless. Not that she could be blamed for her action. It really was a very nice behind, all toned and taut and muscular. Those buns of steel were practically inviting her touch and fondles.

He muttered long sufferingly under his breath. At least she was quiet and docile for now…

Happy again, she started to hum, and his shoulders stiffened a bit, knowing that a full-blown song was not far behind. Her fae blood might be diluted, but she was still Leanan Sidhe like her mother…and very distracting when she wanted to be. It was a good thing that he has had years of practice maintaining his pokerfaced mien, or this unruly mate of his would be gleefully running circles around him.

“Stop that.”

“What?? Whyyy?” Grope. Grope.

“You know why. If you start singing, you’re getting gagged all the way home, Princess.”

AN III:

Kulning: A unique Scandinavian cattle herding call that’s also a song. It has a fascinating and haunting tone, often conveying a feeling of sadness, in large part because the lokks often include typical half-tones and quarter-tones (also known as "blue tones") found in the music of the region. [Example here]

Leanan Sidhe: In Celtic folklore, the leannán sí is a beautiful woman of the Aos Sí ("people of the barrows, the faery folk") who takes a human lover. The words are Gaelic and refer to a faery muse. “Leannán” means the love of my soul or spirit…my inspiration. “Sí” is the word for a faery. Lovers of the leannán sídhe are said to live brief, though highly inspired, lives. The leannán sídhe is generally depicted as a beautiful muse who offers inspiration to an artist in exchange for their love and devotion; however, this frequently results in madness for the artist, as well as premature death.

My favorite definition of the Leanan Sidhe can be found here: Leanan Sidhe is often quoted as meaning “the fairy mistress” or the “fairy sweetheart”. She is the famous Celtic muse with such a dark and unearthly beauty that her lover is often distraught with longing and suffering in her absence. In legend, the Leanan Sidhe often takes an artist for a lover, hence the title “the fairy sweetheart”. It is said that her lover gives her the vital depth of emotion that she craves and she in turn inspires his genius. The self destructive nature of many inspired artists probably lent itself to the misconception that she is evil and dangerous. Evil is not darkness, for darkness she is, and she can also be dangerous and destructive. When her gift is honored and nurtured, she shines as a luminous light in the darkness. For those who understand her true nature, who do not idolize or fear her, she is a sliver of moonlight in the blackest night.

‘...(sic) light of his life...’: The name Leonora literally translates to ‘compassion, light.’ I also like that Leonora’s name (and appearance) ties in nicely with the Leanan Sidhe mythos that I have decided to incorporate into her character (and also Alice’s) for this drabble/AU.

AN IV: Also, instead of ‘milady’ that Ryou is known to address Alice in canon, it’s ‘princess.’ This is because in this AU, Nakiri Soe is a Prince of the Kingdom of Tootsuki, and so Alice is Princess.

#Nakiri Alice #Kurokiba Ryou #Shokugeki no Soma #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #RyoAli #RyoAli: Dragon Heart AU #my fics

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littleladysongbird · 7 years

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They Call It Bastard Valley: Chapter 3 (A Camp Camp Apocalypse AU)

A/N: Hey look guys I updated! Here is installment number three of “They Call It Bastard Valley”! Thank you for everyone who’s been reading/sharing/liking/just overall been supporting it; it means the world and so much more to me!!! Also, if you’d like to support my ArchiveOfOurOwn Account and read each installment without scrolling through tags, click here! (Or don’t, doesn’t matter to me just thought I’d give it a shout-out!)

Please do note: the following chapter, as well of the story, does and will continue to contain descriptions of violence, gore, and injuries. I don’t think I’ve written anything too graphic at this time, but it will be coming down the line.

As always, I don’t own the characters or this show, just my ideas and writing! -XOXO Diana

_____________________________

They Call It Bastard Valley: Chapter 3

As is nature’s way, winter arrived quickly and aggressively, blanketing the entire Valley in snow until it transformed into a singular, crystallized landscape. For once, everything had fallen completely still, free of movement, lost in time. The Valley was at peace. And so, trapped behind mounds of ice and sturdy timber, feverish and deathly ill, all three children were led upstairs to the attic to rest, where hot water, alcohol, and bandages were all being set out across the wooden surface of the table.

Dehydrated, starving, and frostbitten, the night passed in a blur of white cloth and heavy steam. Nikki and Neil, physically drained and freezing from trekking outside, were each given a set of warm clothes and wrapped in a warm quilt before being gently laid to sleep. Max, feverish and fading in-and-out of consciousness, was laid out on the table, helpless to the pricking of needles and the hissing sound of pure alcohol coursing through his opened veins. Deprived of sanity, he screamed at the top of his lungs, thrashing and sobbing until he collapsed, unconscious before his head fell back. With a final, soft thud against the wooden surface of the table, the room echoed a harsh, dull silence. Still, the working hands only paused for a moment, carefully resuming their stitching and wrapping until Max, too, was tucked into a warm bed.

In the hush of early morning, surrounded by the haze of candlelight, the two strangers sat, watching over the children as they slept. Gwen sighed, fingers grazing the tip of the flame that flickered before her. Shifting her weight, she leaned into her companion’s shoulder, letting the weight of her shoulders to fall onto his own.

“You sure this was a good idea David?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, gently brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “You saw his injuries. It’s lucky he was still alive in the first place.”

“Look, I’m not suggesting it was good to let him die, but these kids,” she clutched her stomach, subconsciously checking for the presence of fat between her bones, “I don’t want to starve this winter.”

“They won’t,” David squeezed her hand, “I know you’re worried about that, but we have more than enough food; feeding three extra mouths shouldn’t be too much harder for us.”

Gwen sat up, careful to keep the candle from knocking onto the floor.

“You’re not serious, David.”

“Come on, Gwen,” he gently gripped her shoulders, his eyes burning into hers with a rare sternness, “you know as well as I do that they’re not going to make it through the winter at this rate. They’re practically skeletons. I don’t...I know we can’t afford to feed all of them out there and keep them alive. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t help when we can.”

Gwen groaned, closing her eyes in defeat.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice considering we’ve been snowed in.”

“Oh come on,” David laughed, pulling Gwen into his chest, “you’re not heartless enough to throw kids out in the freezing cold.”

“Still stuffed a shotgun in their face.”

“An unloaded shotgun.”

Gwen said nothing, shutting her eyes and slowly dropping onto David’s lap in a heavy slumber. He sighed, gently stroking her hair until, he too, let the low hum of the winter winds lull him to rest.

***

By all accounts, Max should’ve been dead.

The damage wasn’t completely permanent by any means, but with three broken ribs and half of his body embedded in stitches, his chance of survival depended on undamaged airways, a lack of infection, and a miracle of God.

Or, per Neil’s suggestion, pure fucking stubbornness.

Whatever it was, Max pulled through, waking up after nearly thirty six hours with a queasy feeling in his stomach headache and the smell of weird herbs drafting through the air.

Within seconds, he was leaned over the side of the bed, hurling into whatever unfortunate container had been placed beside him. Closing his eyes, he heaved, screaming as he tried to rid his stomach of whatever was left.

“Hey,” a soft voice hummed from behind him, “it’s okay, let it all-”

Startled by the sudden sensation of a cold hand upon his shoulders, Max threw a punch behind him. The victim fell onto the floor, screaming in a pitchy, almost pathetic, agony.

“Owwie!”

“The fuck are you?” Max screamed, immediately tearing his voice and erupting in a violent coughing fit that paralyzed him completely.

“David!” A voice shrieked from across the room, “What the fuck happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” David hissed, voice slightly pitched due to the tight grip he held over his nose. “He can’t breathe; start the machine.”

Gwen obeyed, jamming the plug into the solar-powered outlet and immediately snapping the mask around Max’s face until his breathing had settled back to normal. Slowly, he laid back on the bed, pain slowly pulsing through his body.

“I know it all hurts, kid.” Max winced as he was tucked back into his own bed, his bandages pulling tightly at his skin. Slowly, he reopened his one eye, observing the young woman sitting beside him.

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Gwen,” she yawned, placing a damp cloth to his forehead, “I almost shot you in the face, remember?”

“Not really.” Max shivered at the cold cotton, the ice between its work fibers pricking his skin. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit.”

“You’re not exactly the kindest person are you?”

“Just trying to keep up my hard-ass reputation.”

“Oh, so you’re the weird-ass man in the woods then?”

“Well, actually-”

“Hey Gwen?” Nikki’s wild mane popped up from the floorboard, “Why is David sobbing into a handful of tissues?”

“Max woke up, got sick, and punched him in the nose.”

Nikki gasped, jumping and skirting across the floor until she came nose-to-nose with her friend. “Aw, Gwen, you brought him back from the dead!”

“Nikki,” Gwen groaned, “he didn’t die. This isn’t the zombie apocalypse. Just the shitty apocalypse.”

Nikki cocked her head on an angle, brow raised and eyes hooded in genuine suspicion.

“...Are you sure he’s not a zombie? He looks like he died.”

“I feel like I’ve died,” Max moaned, clutching his nose while curling on his stomach, “this place smells like a god-damn funeral home.”

“Actually, this is an old campground.” A lanky young man stepped into the room, clad in an old camp shirt, flannel, and a faded pair of jeans rolled up by his ankles. He turned towards Max, softly smiling as he strolled to Gwen’s side, a damp yellow cloth resting awkwardly across the bridge of his nose. “You have a nice hook, if I do say so myself!”

“Uh, thanks? I guess?”

“Oh, Max, this is David,” Gwen pointed to her companion, “he actually owns the cabin. He just kind of let me stay here.”

“What are you talking about?” David snorted, innocent and surprisingly quiet despite the energy in his voice. “You’re my best friend. I’m not just gonna throw you out in the Valley by yourself.”

“Hey guys?” Neil shrieked from below the staircase, “there’s something out there?”

“Out where?” Max turned to Nikki. “What’s going on?”

“Oh everything’s fine Max!” Nikki snorted, her voice dropping to an unnatural whisper. “We just...we’re just being careful, that’s all!”

Gwen stood up, grabbing her shotgun from behind a crate and loading it with a few spare rounds from her pocket. “Neil, get up in the attic and watch over Max with Nikki. David, run down and kill the lights and lock the windows. Kids, there’s some food in the basket if you’re up here for a while. You know where the spare is Nikki? Neil; clean his wounds?”

“We got it,” Neil coughed as he crawled up into the room, “go.”

David and Gwen jumped down from the attic, wasting no time in shutting and locking the trap door until all that could be seen was four walls, three kids, and a single, burning candle.

#diana writes #camp camp #camp camp au #camp camp apocalypse au #they call it bastard valley #cc david #cc gwen #cc max #cc nikki #cc neil #I need a drink

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j0sgomez-blog · 5 years

Photo

By Michael Lanza

The June evening was more than a few hours old when, without warning, the sky suddenly caught fire. The kids, teenagers and ’tweeners, and some of the adults in our group scrambled up onto a nearby rock formation at least 50 feet tall to observe the sunset from high off the ground. Like a wildfire swept forward by wind, hues of yellow, orange, and red leapt across bands of clouds suspended above the western horizon, their ragged bottoms edges, appropriately, resembling dancing flames.

For a span of just minutes that felt timeless, the light painted and repainted the clouds in ever-shifting, warm colors starkly contrasted against the cool, deepening blue of the sky—as if a vast lake had ignited. We stood hypnotized and enchanted on that evening during a long weekend of camping at Idaho’s City of Rocks National Reserve, until the last, dying flames of the celestial conflagration faded and were extinguished. For that brief time, the sunset had us all, adults and kids, completely in its thrall.

I follow a simple rule whenever I’m in the wilderness or any natural setting like the surroundings in the primitive campground at the City of Rocks (the sunset I described above is shown in the lead photo at the top of this story): I never miss any dramatic sunset. And I almost never miss a similar sunrise. The reason is simple: These are often the most sublime and inspiring times of the day. Passing on them is essentially depriving yourself of one of the best reasons to be out there.

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A burning dawn sky seen from Cooper Spur campsite, Timberline Trail, Mount Hood.

Catching a great sunset occurs with the serendipity of meeting the person who becomes your spouse (although, thankfully, far more frequently)—it’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right time and not blowing the opportunity. The sky conjures a universe of color and emotion in fleeting moments, rushing headlong to a grand finale, after which many observers stop paying attention. But I’ve always enjoyed taking in the slow, quiet onset of dusk, spreading out like a ground fog before rising to overtake the sky. Night then settles in for its long watch, the stars emerging in a flutter of eyes popping open—a few tentatively at first, building to a visual crescendo of hundreds of thousands of specks of light.

From the buildup to sunset through nightfall, it’s the best silent film ever made. I could watch it over and over for a lifetime without ever feeling like its magical spell has diminished in power. The sky’s myriad personality changes across the span of hours from sunset through sunrise make me think that nocturnal animals have it right, and we humans sleep away the sky’s most fascinating hours.

Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Click here to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.

Sunset in the Everglades

At our campsite on a wilderness beach at Tiger Key in the Ten Thousand Islands of Everglades National Park, which we had to ourselves for two nights on a canoeing trip, our kids, then age 10 and almost eight, abruptly forgot about their sand castles as the enormous, blood-red ball of fire that is the sub-tropical sun appeared to swell and burn with greater intensity and slipped toward the horizon. My entire family stood spellbound as that flaming orb slowly lowered itself into the vast bathtub of the Gulf of Mexico.

Witnessing the dawn comes with the challenge of rising earlier than many people prefer. But after you’ve made the effort to reach a uniquely beautiful and remote corner of the backcountry, trading a dawn that may hold the most precious moments of an entire trip for another hour or two of slumber strikes me as a lost opportunity.

When I’m sleeping outside, the first light of predawn usually awakens me, and I’m glad for that: I want to be awake. I invariably look up to see what the sky has in store. Any signal of an imminent dawn worth observing—like wispy clouds hovering above the eastern horizon, or puffy cotton balls dabbed across the blue dome—will prod me to dress and step outside the tent. If I had slept out under the stars—my default choice if the night promises to stay dry and not buggy, because why sleep inside nylon walls when I can sleep beneath a starry sky?—then all the better: I can watch it from my warm bag.

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Sunset at Rainbow Lake, North Cascades National Park Complex, Washington.

Dawn on Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit

I have many times begun hiking before or at first light, often because I had many miles to cover, but also partly because it grants me the great privilege of watching the birth of another day. I’ve watched a carpet of crimson light unroll across mountains and canyons deep in the backcountry of places like Yosemite, the Wind River Range, below the magnificent east face of Mount Whitney, on the crest of the Appalachian Trail in the Great Smoky Mountains, from the canyon rim high above the Green River in Canyonlands National Park, in Evolution Basin on the John Muir Trail, and countless other places.

Predawn light on Dhaulagiri, along Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit.

On a fiercely chilly November morning, our last on the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal, my wife, our new Slovenian friend Gorazd, and I joined a procession of hikers and headlamp beams on a 45-minute walk up Poon Hill—a ritual for Annapurna trekkers. On its open summit, at over 9,000 feet, we gazed at a Himalayan night sky riddled with stars twinkling above the milky silhouettes of five snowy giants glowing faintly in the moonless hour before dawn—including one of the planet’s highest peaks, Dhaulagiri.

The mountains appeared to float above valleys still black with night. Slowly, rich bands of red, orange, and yellow ignited on the eastern horizon. As dawn bled across the sky, flashes of golden light struck the white crown of the first peak, and then hopped across the tops of the others. Within a few minutes, the rising sun turned the world’s greatest mountains blindingly white.

Hitting the trail early usually rewards me with solitude unknown in many places during the daytime hours, and wildlife encounters that are far rarer between mid-morning and early evening. I’ve strolled past bighorn sheep lounging casually beside the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park; heard elk bugling in the Tetons, Yellowstone, Olympic Mountains, and elsewhere; and watched a big bull moose emerge from the pond where it had been feeding on plants in Maine’s Baxter State Park.

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Delicate Arch at sunset, Arches National Park, Utah.

Sunset at Delicate Arch

Science provides a simple explanation for the beautiful light that captivates us at sunset and dawn. When the sun hovers near the horizon, its light passes through more atmosphere before reaching our eyes than it does when it’s directly overhead. That much atmosphere effectively erases the shorter, blue and purple rays of the visible light spectrum from our vision, while the longer red, orange, and yellow light rays remain visible but get more widely scattered across the sky.

But that explanation comes nowhere near sparking the depth of feeling of the actual event—which makes witnessing each possible wild sunrise and sunset a difficult pleasure for me to give up, no matter what obstacle stands in the way.

On the last afternoon of a three-family, spring-break trip to southeastern Utah, where we’d backpacked and dayhiked in Canyonlands and Arches national parks, I could barely muster the energy to lift myself out of the bed where I’d slept most of the day, sicker than I’d felt in recent memory. I willed myself to stand up—it felt like a mountain climb—and to go through with our plans to hike to Delicate Arch in Arches to watch the sunset that evening.

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Just four of us went: my friend, Vince, his 13-year-old daughter, Sofi, my 11-year-old daughter, Alex, and me. It’s possible I’ve never hiked a trail more slowly than that evening. Shuffling along, I watched one person after another pass me, even the slowest, oldest, littlest, and least-fit hikers; watching sunset at Delicate Arch is a popular ritual, so there may have been more than a hundred people out there that evening. We gave ourselves more than an hour to hike the mile-and-a-half-long trail, and thanks to my torpid pace, we arrived only minutes before sunset.

We watched that striking natural sculpture of red and orange rock appear, for several minutes, to glow against the backdrop of deepening blue sky and the gleaming, snow-capped La Sal Mountains in the distance. And even though the return walk took even longer because I was so sick—our car was one of the last to leave the parking lot that night—not one step along the way made me regret the effort to watch that sunset.

We don’t get enough of them in a lifetime as it is; I can’t afford to miss any good ones.

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thebackroadtourist · 7 years

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My Week in Bosnia: Belgians, Yoga, and a Homophobe.

The tequila bottle steadily made its’ way around us as the European fir trees towered over our petite wooden shack. 90’s hits blared from my iPhone as the mosquitos danced to the rhythm of ‘Here Comes The Hotstepper”. Outside our hut the Tara river flowed gracefully as the cold night breeze kept us huddled inside. The rafting boats sat still in the night as the stars reflected their light off the Balkan cliffs that surrounded us. It was midnight. Early the next morning we would journey on a 5 hour rafting trip through Bosnia and Montenegro. Around the tequila went, each mouth taking turns cupping the lip of the bottle until we reached the bottom. Instinctual dancing ensued, creating a ripple of energy in the calm setting of the remote village we were in. We didn’t care, because who were we in that moment? Just a trio of humans randomly selected by the universe and placed in virtually the middle of nowhere. No wifi signals could distract us, no job could stress us, no school could dread us, and nothing in our environment could cease our human nature to laugh, dance and be free in that moment. Little did I know these young and adventurous tequila companions of mine would become like family for me in the following days.

I had met the Belgians 3 days ago as I stumbled off the 14 hour night train From Serbia to Montenegro. We shared a taxi together to the bus station in Bar, where they had planned to stay as I caught a bus to Budva. They had mentioned they were headed to Budva the next day, but I never saw them there and had not been expecting to see them.

If there is one thing I’ve learned throughout my travels, it’s that the backpacking community is small - very small. An Indian guy I met in Spain was on the bus with me from Slovenia to Croatia. A Portuguese Girl I briefly lived with in Costa Rica bumped into me in Colombia. Two Dutch guys I befriended in Belgrade were at my hostel in Sarajevo. A girl I rode a ferry with in Albania ran into me in Tirana and traveled with me to Macedonia. The list goes on and on. It’s easy to bump into each other by random because the destinations are quite similar and paths often cross.

We awoke early the next morning, geared up and prepped to set out on the Tara river. We had an hour to kill and one of the girls requested we do yoga. I had mentioned the night before that I was a certified yoga instructor. We lay our wetsuits on the wooden staircase attached to our hut and found a flat surface on the campground to practice. They had never done yoga before. I guided them through the basics and was impressed at how quickly they picked my cues despite the slight language barrier. They even understood “Down-dog” “Warrior” and “Pigeon”, raising my skepticism that it was indeed their first time, along with their flawless technique. Halfway through our flow I heard “My grandma wants me to teach her what you teach us.” I paused, those unexpected words riddled my mind for a minute. And for that moment I felt kind of cool. Cool because somewhere in the world there will be a Belgian granny busting out Mike Ryan yoga moves. I laughed at the image of a grandma doing headstands with her granny-friends and leaving a Mike Ryan yoga trail amongst grandmas in the country of Belgian. We ended the session with a child’s pose before we threw on our life vests and hit the waters.

That night we took a bus to Sarajevo, the muslim dense capital of Bosnia where thousands of civilians lost their lives in a devastating 44 month war just 20 years ago. You could feel the energy of the town - damaged yet on the rise. Bosnia is relatively safe, yet known to be the sketchiest of all former Yugoslavian countries; the one country in the Balkans where a few backpackers have shared stories with me of hearing a gun shot, getting pick-pocketed or experiencing a conflict of some kind let alone a mean stare. The bus arrived at dusk, 15 kilometers outside the city center so we scanned for a taxi. After several attempts, I flagged one down and negotiated a semi-decent price to our hostel. The cabby had an attitude and was not the most welcoming guy, maybe in part that I fought to get his price lowered. With myself in the front seat and the Belgians in the back, we made our way out of the Sarajevo boondocks, the lights of the city center upon us in the distance. We were half way to our hostel when one of the Belgian’s realized she had left her iPhone on the bus. Shit. Despite the odds of never seeing her phone again, they kept calm - like yogis. We called her phone and a Bosnian guy answered without a lick of English was spoken. We put him on the phone with our cabby as I gestured to our driver to speak with him. He looked extremely annoyed at this point, with not a lick of English spoken from his mouth either. He said a few words with the man from the other end and passed the phone back to the Belgian girl before whipping the car around in a U-turn and as he muttered the words “bus garage”. We accelerated towards the way we came, towards the apparent “bus garage” to retrieve the phone, so we assumed. We had no choice but to trust the universe on this one. It was dark now and the cabby sped with authority through the poverty-ridden residential neighborhoods and other unfamiliar sights as we passed many dead-end street signs along the way. At this point I think the three of us were experiencing horrific ransom-like images in our minds as the bald-headed broad-chested stoned-faced cabby winded through the shadows of the night, the mountains in front of us now, the lights of the city behind us. A few more disconcerting turns later and we arrived to our destination: A group of Bosnian men standing there, waiting for us in front of what appeared to be a house. My heart hastened as the men creeped towards us in unison like a pack of gorillas. The lead man knocked on my passenger side window. I rolled it down just a quarter way to be safe. My eyes darted from man to man, and then - the iPhone! I spotted it! It glistened off the moonlight in the hands of one of the men. The man with the phone then reached toward the opening of my window with a smile and in a soft tone said “Here is your phone” as he handed it to me. I thanked him profusely as he smiled and waved as we drove off, back towards the center of town. I thanked God, or Allah, or whoever was in charge that day for letting us keep our possessions, and kidneys for that matter. Supposedly organ hunting is a thing in this part of the world, though extremely rare - it can happen.

Alas, the night wasn’t over yet. We approached the hostel, worn out from our long day of rafting, traveling and timid cab rides. As we entered inside the first people we saw were my dutch friends from Belgrade, completely out of nowhere! How random. What had intended to be a night of sleep escalated into a rejoice with the Dutchies, enthused with our spontaneous reunion. Chevapi, beers and bars with live music proceeded until the Dutchie’s went back to catch an early morning bus to Split. And finally, after nearly 24 hours of an action packed day, we laid our heads down to slumber.

The town of Sarajevo was beautiful, Sarajevo meaning “Palace in the Valley” a name given by the Ottoman Empire just 500 years ago when the town was discovered. An “new” town, for European standards. Despite a stifling 40% unemployment rate the town was quite welcoming, with the beauty of over 200 mosques and unique architecture which stretched long down the river that split the town into two. Turkish food, markets, and Muslims occupied most of the town, but one small vegetarian restaurant stood out so we decided to try it. With so much meat in the past few days, weeks even, we were all craving some veggies.

The ambience was calm and inviting, decorative painting of colorful fruits and vegetables covered the walls of the cafe, a little tacky looking but light-hearted. Our waiter seemed nice at first, poking fun with us and being the charming guy that he came off to be. Then half way through our entree he walked up to our table, turned towards me and said “You man, you are SO handsome!” I laughed and thanked him, unsure of where he was going with this. “Are you heterosexual? You’re with all these beautiful women!” He continued to ask more questions, some quite personal, until I humorously interjected “Bro are you hitting on me?” The Belgian girls giggled as his face turned red.

“No man, I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t gay. Because that would be such a waste. I can’t understand how some handsome guys are GAY! It’s sad,” he pointed to his head and shook it in disgust. The laughter at the table ceased as our smiles came to to a halt. I cleared my throat. “You know man, maybe you should be gay - you would get laid a lot more. Gay guys really know how to have a good time. In fact, they are the funnest people in the world to be around.” With an astonished look on his face he frowned, realized that we weren’t a force to reckon with and he walked away. Moments later he dropped our check on our table without stopping and not a word came out of him. It was a shock to hear this guy openly admit his homophobia to a group of foreigners. Nonetheless, it was an experience that illustrated where some countries and their people are on the progression scale.

We arrived back to our hostel that night and the 3 of us hugged and bid our farewells. It was 5 days of adventure through Bosnia together, and that night I would take a 9 hour bus ride to Ulcinj. I knew I would miss these girls. I wanted to take them with me but as with all travel relationships, abrupt endings are inevitable. The Belgian girls left an impression on me, and inspired a future pit stop to Belgium for my next Euro-trip. I just hope they hold on to their phones.

#travel #travelmore #travel adventures #solobackpacking #Adventure #explore #exploretheworld #wander #wanderingsoul #nomadiclife #gyspysoul #globetrotter #europe #eurotrip #Yugoslavia #balkans #backpack #travelinglife

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j0sgomez-blog · 5 years

Photo

By Michael Lanza

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.

A burning dawn sky seen from Cooper Spur campsite, Timberline Trail, Mount Hood.

Sunset in the Everglades

Want to read any story linked here? Get full access to ALL stories at The Big Outside, plus a FREE e-guide. Subscribe now!

Sunset at Rainbow Lake, North Cascades National Park Complex, Washington.

Dawn on Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit

Predawn light on Dhaulagiri, along Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life. Find out more here.

Delicate Arch at sunset, Arches National Park, Utah.

Sunset at Delicate Arch

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my downloadable, expert e-guides. Click here now to learn more.

We don’t get enough of them in a lifetime as it is; I can’t afford to miss any good ones.

See all of my stories about national park adventures and family adventures at The Big Outside.

Tell me what you think.

The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures. Subscribe now to read ALL stories and get a free e-guide!

#039;s

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