*Xession (/ˈx-se-shən/):
1.A state of mind that is characterized and guided by temperance, knowledge and balance, along with an awareness of one's true self, leading to true happiness.
2.A meeting or gathering of friends, while smoking weed.
‘Walk down, but be careful. That rock is slippery with moss!’ 3 shouted over the sound of the crashing waves.
I walked down gingerly, knees half bent, arms spread out to gain balance. The rock-face was steep and set at a crazy angle, and a million drops of spray from the crashing waves made it slippery. Suhas, Manoj and Moham were sitting on the edge of the outcrop, enjoying the sun, their legs dangling in the air, watching us as we made our way to the cave.
We were hiking to Paradise Beach from Half-Moon Beach. We had arrived the previous night to the little town of Gokarna, and had made our way on foot to Half-Moon. The trek is relatively easy and takes you along a much-used trail. From Half-Moon, the trail rises from behind huts, and disappears at a steep angle into the forest. You climb single-file, as the trail is narrow, and turn right at the first fork. The left fork takes you back to Om Beach. The right trail takes you up gently first, and then rises sharply, until you burst through the canopy and are invited to witness a panoramic view of the Arabian Sea. In the mid-morning sun, we saw a few ships and large boats dotting the horizon. Far we could see, far enough to see the Earth gently curving. Down below, we saw white surf wet the cream-colored sand repeatedly and the sun would immediately dry it off. It seemed futile, in a funny sort of way.
About half way through, right before the trail descends to meet Paradise Beach, it seemed as if a chunk of land had succumbed to the lure of the ocean and had fallen away, leaving a large rock hanging in the air, right at the edge of the cliff. Another large rock had fallen sideways and downwards, facing a cave. We didn’t see the cave immediately. We were standing there admiring the way the sun glinted off the surface of the ocean, when we spotted it. 3 and I jumped off the outcrop and onto the ‘crazy-angle’ rock, and made our way slowly.
From our position, we could see more than the others. We saw that, at high tide, the cave was flooded by the ocean. Crabs and snails and other assorted sea creatures crawled around in it and the low tides down below were doing no harm except wetting the stones. The smell inside was of salt and fish and of wetness that hasn’t dried properly.
The cave was quite large; four men could have easily camped inside at low-tide. I mentioned this to 3, and we immediately caught on to that idea. We discussed for some time were we would place the fire, the directions we would sleep in, what we could do about the smell, and things like that. This is a nice aspect of warm friendships – the serious contemplation of pointlessness.
While we ran away with our imagination, the rest of the gang descended and everyone wanted a piece of the cave. We all took turns to venture inside, carefully slipping, but not enough to fall into the ocean. We took some pictures and shot a video of the cave as the waves crashed in, and then climbed back. As we walked away, I looked back at the cave a final time. The light of the sun shining off the wet black rocks of the cave was clear and starched. We would return again, I knew. It was a good find, a rare find. It was obvious to me that many others must have found the cave, but the fact that no one had to lead us to it, that it was there waiting to be discovered and that we had actually found it gave us a sense of ownership that linked us to the cave. I think this is a key aspect of traveling - the discoveries you stumble upon. It makes a place your own, for this lifetime.
*
Preparations
A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.
John Steinbeck
The Anatomy of Journey Page 5