When all I could see was an impenetrable white wall hovering above the Pacific, I knew without a shadow of doubt there was a whole world on the other side.

If I’m traveling somewhere I am nearly certain I will never visit again, I’ll pack every square inch of my days with scenic views and new experiences. If at all possible, I leave no sight unseen. But, if I even half believe I might return one day…

By November, the crowds had all gone home, the sun hid behind the clouds, and I felt like the only non-local in town. Tofino had returned to the sleepy, quiet, rainy town I had spent the last few years dreaming about.

I siphoned life from my surroundings. I lived by association over and over and over. In all seasons, I stood in dense forests, along coastlines, at the bases of waterfalls and reminded myself “you are not dead yet either”.

I glanced at the woman next to me. Her eyes were as wet and full as mine. When she looked at me, we both laughed. How silly it was to be crying about whales with strangers.

Sometimes, we do just have to call it quits. We run out of time. We run out of daylight. The day just doesn’t turn out. But, sometimes it does. Sometimes, the magic is in the very final moments of the adventure. Sometimes, it’s just past where you believe it will be.

I felt like I needed more air all the time. More space. More room to really make eye contact with my life, diagnose its ailments, and heal. Some part of me knew that couldn’t and wouldn’t happen in familiar surroundings, so I booked my first solo trip to Santa Fe.