A letter I addressed to myself

A letter arrived for me this morning. Upon finding it, my feelings went from pleased to inquisitive, to shocked, to awed - all in no more than a second.

After initially being glad it was from a person instead of a department, I recognised something about the envelope, but couldn't place it. Then suddenly I realised - the letter was addressed to me in my own hand-writing! A hugely unsettling moment... But then I realised why it was my own writing, who it was from, where and in relation to what. The postmark confirmed it all.

Some background. I left the UK on my own in November '07, as an escape, or retreat, and come February '09 I found myself hitch-hiking 'round New Zealand's North Island. I was drifting off to sleep under a tree near Rotorua (I hadn't found anywhere for the tent by the time it got dark, but it was a nice night and I was happy) when I decided I'd come far enough to head back to the UK.

The following couple of days, I really felt I'd passed an epoch. But the whole-trip - as exploratory and rewarding and purposely far outside comfort zones as it was - was undermined by not knowing why I'd found it to be the only thing to do. I couldn't help but know it was a kind of weakness as much as anything.

I camped in a gorgeous reserve near Norsewood on the Highway 2, a few days after Rotorua. There was only one other person there, but I'd kept myself to myself and was just planning to hit the road early-ish in the morning. As I was packing up my tent about half 9, the guy came over and asked if I'd give him a hand moving some stuff. He lived in the reserve in a horse-box he'd tricked out, and he looked it - rotten teeth, haggard, but bright-eyed.

Far from turning out to be the nutter I'd imagined, we talked for 4 hours. He was only in his early fifties, but had herniated one of his testicles catching deer, and some clot or similar had nearly lost him his left leg, and the blood to it now came via bypass from his right hip (I've checked it out since, it's not that uncommon), though he could hardly walk and was on Warfarin and sickness benefits. He was so open about his health, I told about the existential dilemmas I'd had, and what I was hoping to achieve by embracing the unknown. He told me he'd had the same, and when he was my age he'd gone into the bush with 20 bucks and come out 5 months later with 20 bucks. And there he was now, destitute and sick but without a single worry.

His caravan was like an established gypsy's, with a wood-burning stove and a generator hooked-up, and photos and decorations on the walls. Homely, not at all spartan. He had running water (from a jerry can winched up high into a tree, hosed down to a tap - that's what I had to help him with) and, far from even just being a hermit happy with his lot, during our conversation his wife came home.

I'm opposed to taking contact details of fleeting acquaintances as you're parting- you never get round to writing even if you genuinely don't want that parting to be the last you have with person. It's a cop-out from having the dignified good-bye you ought to face-up and have. So when he said - as I began to make my move - that he'd take my address, I began to feel the whole thing cheapen. But he stopped himself mid-sentence, professed exactly why I think it's not the thing to do, and said "But put your address on this envelope, when we're thinking of you we'll post something in it".

So I did. And he did, sending me two photos from that day and another. He and his wife gave me some pictures back then of the reserve, and I still have them as well as a picture of them. So tomorrow I write to them.

Now, having been back 5 months, I have totally lost a lot of the good mindset I devloped, but I very much could do with it back. So Wayne's communication, again, is helping to affirm and spur me on. This time it's reminding me of what I didn't want to forget, rather than confirming.


So that's why I received an envelope I addressed to myself. And if you made it this far and I've done OK, you'll maybe understand why I wrote so much here....