It took an hour to reach the end of the rocks, and by that time I was crying-- full-fledged gulping sobs. This mood had taken over and covered me completely.
Glenelg Beach is a large, wide expanse with a long wooden pier. Main streets with tourist shops line the boardwalk. Along the end of the beach sits a "rock pier," so I made my way towards it.
About halfway through, I realized that I no longer wanted to climb the rocks, but had to. The rocks were huge boulders with deep gullies. Gullies? Gaps? Who give a shit. It was rough climbing over them.
As I reached the end, the sadness took over and I stood hunched over, and sobbed miserably. And, for what? For nothing. For being in a city in the winter, when I could get on a plane and go north, to a warm beach? For wearing shorts when pants would have been more suitable on this cold day? For losing my tan? For ordering a lamb gryo with grizzly dried-up lamb pieces? For the seagulls who screeched and heckled me to give up the grizzle? For the loud hip-hop music that played til 4:00 am last night, with the bass pounding in the hostel walls like Chinese Water Torture? For the cunty travel agent who had nothing but negative comments for every suggestion I wondered about? For traveling in a world where vehicles have the right or way over pedestrians? For being alone and lonely? For quitting my job and spending money and having absolutely no fucking clue as to what I'm going to do with my life? And unfortunately, not giving the slightest shit, at the moment?
For being a privileged white brat who has the luxury to climb on rocks and cry about it?
When I reached the end of the end of the rocks, the entire area was covered in bird shit. So much bird shit you could not sit down on any rock surface, after the long journey.
So, that's the end of it, is it? The great meaning in my quest for conquering the end of this great rock wall?
Bird shit.
There is just in front of me now a seal. A great big seal, all alone, playing slowly in the water. He (he?) is just moving up... and back... and up... and back. And he's staying right here-- right on my side of the wall. I'm trying to be sad and miserable, documenting every tear and complaint, while inquisitively noticing my new friend.
It really is hard to be sad when a 100 kg seal is playing next to you.
The planes are landing in front of me. If I look directly out-- straight ahead-- the next body of land is Antartica. Isn't that amazing? How can one be sad and miserable, touching Antartica's tidal waters? Sharing the horizon with Antartica?
I think I'm going to get a bottle of wine tonight and just get myself a bit drunk. I miss my family, my friends, my home. I miss my dog Libby. I miss Vermont. I'm staring at the horizon of Antartica. And, I'm going to go and get drunk.
No worries, mate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCROzdKH_8A
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