Wanderlust

Two years ago, during the summer of 2010, two close friends and I set off on an expedition across the American railroads. Three weeks in and we were as far from the west coast as we were from the east… we had reached the belly of the beast.

Granby, Colorado. I remember it vividly, the rolling green hills, the silence, the freshness of the air –something one takes for granted in Ireland– and of course, the hospitality; it was the closest thing to home I’d felt in weeks.

We spent one night in Granby. Here we were in a remote town, with nothing better to do other than to experience it. Everything we saw was new. Like most things new, we had seen this stuff before, but never in this arrangement. There’s something about the virginity of a new place or experience that I’ve always found enthralling. It’s instantly nostalgic, instantly poignant.

Maybe this is what they call Wanderlust. Speaking of which, if you’re going to do anything now, please press play. Trust me, you’ll be happy you did.