There are two good reasons to write a travel journal.
The first is to create a record of our adventures so that we never forget.
My mother, sadly, died young. My wife’s father suffered from the blight of dementia to the point where a once proud man could no longer recognise his family.
By chronicling our escapades, my wife – Huckleberry B – and I will always have a record of the wonderful life we shared, even if one of us should suffer the same fate as our parents.
My beloved Huckleberry B and I have seen the world together.
Without any plan – or even conscious thought – we’ve added the 60th nation to the list of countries we’ve visited. We’ve set our eyes on every continent, including Antarctica. From the 63rd parallel south to the 79th parallel north, we’ve ventured to the four corners of the globe. We’ve swum 400 metres below sea level, in the Dead Sea in Jordan, and walked breathlessly 4 kilometres above the ocean, in the Nepalese Himalayas.
We’ve visited the pyramids in Egypt, the fjords of Norway, the open plains of Tanzania and the natural wonders of the Galapagos Islands. We’ve walked among the ruins of Pompeii, Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu. We were even members of the first cruise ship to circumnavigate Cuba since the Revolution.
Together, Huck B and I have seen the world.
My journals were never intended to be a chore. It was never my intention to record every detail of our travels. If we were blessed by an experience, good or bad, tedious or exhilarating, I wrote about it. When left underwhelmed, I did not.
So, that is reason number one for writing a travel journal. What is the second purpose?
Whenever I sat down to chronicle our adventures, it was to impress Huckleberry B. To draw a knowing nod, to make her smile or, best of all, provoke an eruption of laughter.
And if others might gain something from the impressions of one traveller, then all the better.
PLEASE NOTE: I am currently editing the private travel journal I have been writing since 2007 and I am posting sporadically during the editing process