I have been enjoying reading the two volumes of P.G. Downes’ journals of travels in Northern Canada between 1936 and 1947, edited by R.H. Cockburn. The journals are a rare and somewhat raw look at the experiences of a bold adventurer. P.G. Downes was a teacher at a private school for boys near Boston who spent many of his summers taking incredible canoe voyages in Northern Canada. He kept journals of his adventures and 40 years after his death the journals have been edited and published in two volumes. Somewhere in the introduction, the editor comments that they may be of limited interest. Not everyone wants to read of the discomfort of traveling long days on short rations, the limited pleasure of eating seagull, and the stiff shoulders and blisters that come with the first days of an extensive canoe trip. The editor does think that publishing the journals does, however, have an audience among scholars who are studying the history of native people; geographers who want to know what the land was like before it had been mapped, photographed and developed; and armchair travelers who revel in reading about the adventures of others and fancy travels in their imaginations.

I think I fit into that final category. It is not that I don’t have a few genuine adventures in real life. I love to travel and I have been blessed with many wonderful trips and there are more yet to come. But my imagination is capable of thinking of trips that are probably beyond the realm of practical. It is unlikely that I will do extensive canoe traveling in the barrens area of Northern Canada. Although there is plenty of relatively empty space to be explored, the logistics of such trips are probably beyond my means. Not having several years to invest four or more months in travel by canoe, my only access to such adventures would be to fly into remote locations, travel a short distance and then fly out. The costs of such trips are probably beyond my means. And I would probably need a guide. And I may be getting beyond the age where my physical stamina is up to the challenge of running rapids, making portages, and dealing with the deprivations of isolated travel.

There are some trips that I probably will take only in my imagination and never in reality. That doesn’t keep me from enjoying the imaginary trips.

So, in a flight of fancy, here are some trips that I will probably never take, but I can imagine nonetheless.

I think it would be a grand adventure to travel with my son and grandson to Corwall, the peninsula that juts out of England into the Atlantic Ocean. I fancy we might stay in Penzance the town that gave its name to the famous pirates of the Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera. There are plenty of things to see in the area and we wouldn’t become bored, but the thing I would most love to do would be to take long beach combing walks on the beach. I know we’d love the things we might find.

Back on February 13, 1997, the container ship Tokio Express was bound for New York when it was hit by a wave described by its captain as a “once in a 100-year phenomenon.” The ship tilted 60 degrees in one direction and then 40 degrees in the other. 62 shipping containers fell off of the giant vessel and sank to the bottom of the ocean. At least one of those containers broke apart as it sank. We know that because for the last 17 years Lego pieces have been washing up on the beaches of Cornwall. To make matters even more interesting the Lego pieces have a nautical theme. There are pirate’s swords, flippers, sea grass, and octopuses. There are a few things that you might not expect to find on a beach as well, such as daisies and dragons.

Theoretically the plastic peaces could have been caught in ocean currents and traveled around the globe. There is a Facebook page about the Lego discoveries and there is the possibility that one of the pieces made it all the way to Australia. But the largest number of pieces are washing up on Cornish beaches. In my imagination, I would take family members to the beach without telling them what we might discover and allow the discovery to be an amazing surprise.

I have often wondered what it would be like to paddle the 52 miles between North America and Siberia. I have paddled my kayak across the Columbia river between Oregon and Washington and back. I think it would be an adventure on an even grander scale to have paddled between two continents. The problem is that there are some very strong political barriers that make that trip next to impossible. Westerners simply cannot get permission to arrive on the Russian shores of the Bering Straight. The few who have done so have, for the most part, done so illegally. Given the turbulent waters and relatively short wave lengths in deep and very cold water, it would be necessary to have a support and safety boat for such a paddle. And the odds are that both boats would be confiscated upon arrival. It is a journey that is probably best taken in one’s imagination.

I think I would enjoy a trip down the Amazon. Of course the western part, where the river comes out of the mountains, would require a raft and a guide, but the trip would go through some of the deepest canyons in the world. And most of the Amazon’s travel is across a flat plain. Imagine floating on a river that carries 20% of the freshwater in the entire world. I suppose the best way to travel the lower Amazon would be to construct my own raft. That might be too big of an adventure, but I have no desire to take a cruise ship. Maybe I could book passage on a river supply ship. I’ve read that you have to bring your own hammock for sleeping because the floor of the boat is where the chickens and pigs sleep. Now that would be an adventure!

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