Fighting blizzards, eating poor-quality food and dealing with my horrible English - you know, Italian accent isn't THAT good - I was slowly getting used to live alone in an unfamiliar environment. By the time I had to leave South Dakota and the rez, I was happy to go home to meet my people again, sure, but I was also sad deep in my heart, for I knew I would have missed the place. I'd have missed the spaces, first of all. That unbeatable sense of freedom given by the endless plains. I'd have missed the people I met there and their behaviour, their culture. I was getting used to people waving hello when driving across you on the roads, or to people asking you "How are ya?" first thing in any conversation. I was getting used to wearing "common" clothes without feeling bad about it rather than feeling compelled to wear fancy clothes just for the sake of being judged positively - because that's one of the first ways we judge people where I'm from.
I was already a different person when I landed in Venice, 2 months later. It was April, just after Easter time. I was scheduled to degree on June 25th, and I did - the same day that Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull (among other brave Lakota warriors) defeated arrogant general Custer at the famous battle of Little Bighorn, 1876. I didn't see it as just a coincidence. There had to be a meaning.
During the weeks that followed, my mind was busy trying to organize the rest of the summer. I wasn't already going crazy with job hunting. The main goal I had in my mind was to enjoy my last summer of freedom at best. The chance came when I counted the money my family, relatives and friends gave me as graduation present (one thing that is pretty common in Italy, at least where I'm from). I stacked up a decent amount of money, and even though it wasn't enough to cover every expense of a 2 weeks trip, I decided my present would have been a nice trip. I called a friend of mine on the phone - one of those fellas always ready to say yes when it comes to travelling, especially at that easy time of no familiar ties whatsoever - and he agreed to at least discuss a few options.
After some days of emailing the coolest pictures we could find on the internet, and reasoning on the money we would have needed to make it happen, we came up with the destination: West Coast Canada.
I was crazy excited. The challenger had been Norway, with a focus on fjords. We ruled it out for its expensiveness and lack of world-famous sightseeings, while we couldn't pass on places like Lake Louise or Moraine Lake, in Banff National Park. Of particular appeal to me was the presence in the region of big game, like elk, moose and the mighty grizzly bear. Sometimes it felt like getting ready for a long safari! (I'd have found out that seeing grizzly bears or moose or other big but shy wildlife is not that easy or common at all).
By the time I came back from Canada, I had:
- Seen my first black bear (the closest I got to a grizzly was a note left at the Edith Cavell glacier trailhead saying "Grizzly on the move, 10.30 AM". I hiked the whole trail asking every hiker on the way back "Have you seen a beer?", mistaking the pronunciation of "bear" for "beer")
- Hiked in the first National Park in North America
- Driven for more than a few dozen miles in unknown territory, having a chance to admire crystalline lakes, lush forests, jagged mountains
- Started to develop a passion for photography, not as an interest in the technical side of it in itself, instead as a willing to show people how amazing those places were.
The thing that penetrated deeper into myself though was another one. A subtle one, but as important in the whole process as none of the others.
I started to perceive what I deem as "the call of the wild". Wild as not cemented, as not jammed with traffic, as not polluted by urban noise, as not crammed with human beings. I started to perceive the healing power of Nature, that acts through its endless beauty. I started to feel a need to explore, to see the marvels of the Creation - forests, lakes, canyons, mountains, rivers, valleys, plains, deserts. I started to wonder when looking at the animal kingdom, especially those elusive creatures like the bear, the moose, the mountain lion. I felt like I just had an appetizer - no, actually an amuse bouche. One little bite of an incredibly tasty food. I had just discovered this world, that was once just on TV or on photography books, and I felt right in love with it.
By the time I came back home, I knew I was going to return. I wanted to have more.
Luckily, since after all there's no travelling without money, I got a job in a bank very soon, and I started to save money. I went to London in March (it was 2010), then to Scotland for a week in May, and spent the summer at home, working. In the meantime I upgraded my camera gear - from one of those handy but basic "pocket cameras" to a more respectable Nikon D90.
The cool thing of working in a bank (at least back then!) was the generous amount of vacations. In fact, I still had some 20 days of paid vacations at my disposal, and I was busy thinking at the best way to use them. Money was an issue, since renting a car at the age of 23 would still have you paying underage charge, and I was looking for a travel buddy. At the same time I was in a tight "fight" with my boss to try to get a suitable time of the year to travel. In case I'd have decided to go to Greenland, for example, November wouldn't have been a great pick.
What I came up with was a decently ambitious effort for a 23-years old with almost NO travelling organization on his shoulders. I set my destination as North-Central U.S.A., aiming at visiting 6 states and a similar number on national parks. Yellowstone was among others, being THE national park of excellence: the one you see clips on TV about, from erupting geysers to wolves preying on elk calves. I was indescribably excited. It didn't take me too long to find a travel bud either - it eventually being a female friend of mine, Raffaella, that agreed to share emotions, experiences and costs with me for a couple of extraordinary weeks.
Looking at the pictures I took back in those days, well, I see I was a "first timer". Too often now I criticize people taking pictures of a buffalo standing alongside the road, or even worse, of some squirrels begging for food. I am repeting myself constantly "That ain't a grizzly sow with cubs, c'mon now!". I should really stop and remember those pictures. It makes me smile but that's what it is!
However, it introduced me to the immense, uncomparable beauty of the United States. A country where - I just saw it with my own eyes - places like Yellowstone and Arches coexist. A place where you can roam the prairie with some big buffalo fellows or hike the mountain trail with the mountain lion, or stumble in the coyote while coming out of a sandy slot canyon bottom.
Flying back home I felt like an explorer waiting to tell the world the splendors of the New Continent.
I was already a different person when I landed in Venice, 2 months later. It was April, just after Easter time. I was scheduled to degree on June 25th, and I did - the same day that Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull (among other brave Lakota warriors) defeated arrogant general Custer at the famous battle of Little Bighorn, 1876. I didn't see it as just a coincidence. There had to be a meaning.
During the weeks that followed, my mind was busy trying to organize the rest of the summer. I wasn't already going crazy with job hunting. The main goal I had in my mind was to enjoy my last summer of freedom at best. The chance came when I counted the money my family, relatives and friends gave me as graduation present (one thing that is pretty common in Italy, at least where I'm from). I stacked up a decent amount of money, and even though it wasn't enough to cover every expense of a 2 weeks trip, I decided my present would have been a nice trip. I called a friend of mine on the phone - one of those fellas always ready to say yes when it comes to travelling, especially at that easy time of no familiar ties whatsoever - and he agreed to at least discuss a few options.
After some days of emailing the coolest pictures we could find on the internet, and reasoning on the money we would have needed to make it happen, we came up with the destination: West Coast Canada.
I was crazy excited. The challenger had been Norway, with a focus on fjords. We ruled it out for its expensiveness and lack of world-famous sightseeings, while we couldn't pass on places like Lake Louise or Moraine Lake, in Banff National Park. Of particular appeal to me was the presence in the region of big game, like elk, moose and the mighty grizzly bear. Sometimes it felt like getting ready for a long safari! (I'd have found out that seeing grizzly bears or moose or other big but shy wildlife is not that easy or common at all).
By the time I came back from Canada, I had:
- Seen my first black bear (the closest I got to a grizzly was a note left at the Edith Cavell glacier trailhead saying "Grizzly on the move, 10.30 AM". I hiked the whole trail asking every hiker on the way back "Have you seen a beer?", mistaking the pronunciation of "bear" for "beer")
- Hiked in the first National Park in North America
- Driven for more than a few dozen miles in unknown territory, having a chance to admire crystalline lakes, lush forests, jagged mountains
- Started to develop a passion for photography, not as an interest in the technical side of it in itself, instead as a willing to show people how amazing those places were.
The thing that penetrated deeper into myself though was another one. A subtle one, but as important in the whole process as none of the others.
I started to perceive what I deem as "the call of the wild". Wild as not cemented, as not jammed with traffic, as not polluted by urban noise, as not crammed with human beings. I started to perceive the healing power of Nature, that acts through its endless beauty. I started to feel a need to explore, to see the marvels of the Creation - forests, lakes, canyons, mountains, rivers, valleys, plains, deserts. I started to wonder when looking at the animal kingdom, especially those elusive creatures like the bear, the moose, the mountain lion. I felt like I just had an appetizer - no, actually an amuse bouche. One little bite of an incredibly tasty food. I had just discovered this world, that was once just on TV or on photography books, and I felt right in love with it.
By the time I came back home, I knew I was going to return. I wanted to have more.
Luckily, since after all there's no travelling without money, I got a job in a bank very soon, and I started to save money. I went to London in March (it was 2010), then to Scotland for a week in May, and spent the summer at home, working. In the meantime I upgraded my camera gear - from one of those handy but basic "pocket cameras" to a more respectable Nikon D90.
The cool thing of working in a bank (at least back then!) was the generous amount of vacations. In fact, I still had some 20 days of paid vacations at my disposal, and I was busy thinking at the best way to use them. Money was an issue, since renting a car at the age of 23 would still have you paying underage charge, and I was looking for a travel buddy. At the same time I was in a tight "fight" with my boss to try to get a suitable time of the year to travel. In case I'd have decided to go to Greenland, for example, November wouldn't have been a great pick.
What I came up with was a decently ambitious effort for a 23-years old with almost NO travelling organization on his shoulders. I set my destination as North-Central U.S.A., aiming at visiting 6 states and a similar number on national parks. Yellowstone was among others, being THE national park of excellence: the one you see clips on TV about, from erupting geysers to wolves preying on elk calves. I was indescribably excited. It didn't take me too long to find a travel bud either - it eventually being a female friend of mine, Raffaella, that agreed to share emotions, experiences and costs with me for a couple of extraordinary weeks.
Looking at the pictures I took back in those days, well, I see I was a "first timer". Too often now I criticize people taking pictures of a buffalo standing alongside the road, or even worse, of some squirrels begging for food. I am repeting myself constantly "That ain't a grizzly sow with cubs, c'mon now!". I should really stop and remember those pictures. It makes me smile but that's what it is!
However, it introduced me to the immense, uncomparable beauty of the United States. A country where - I just saw it with my own eyes - places like Yellowstone and Arches coexist. A place where you can roam the prairie with some big buffalo fellows or hike the mountain trail with the mountain lion, or stumble in the coyote while coming out of a sandy slot canyon bottom.
Flying back home I felt like an explorer waiting to tell the world the splendors of the New Continent.
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