The week after I didn’t go to Mexico I decided to spend the winter on Vancouver Island. I packed up my little Honda fit with my sleeping bag, warmest clothes and enough food to last a month or so and set off. My plan was to take my time and hike my way across Canada and the West Coast. Three days out, more lockdowns kicked in, and B C was also talking about closing its border to tourists. I had to take a good hard look at what I was doing. I’m not in a financial position to winter in Canada without working unless I’m rough camping. And while that’s my thing, the way things were going, I could get stuck between hither and yon in the winter. In the end, I turned around and headed back home. Even so, I’m glad I went. I never really wanted to winter camp again but it certainly scratched my adventure inch, and I had some beautiful hikes in northern Ontario. But I have finally accepted, and made my peace with, what other people have long since accepted; this is not the year to travel.

So it will be a season of winter-land walking, cozy writing in front of the fire, and working. And feeling especially grateful for my wise and wonderful children who impress me every day.