Lights, Camera...Travel!

by Lonely Planet

  After a minute or so, there was calm.

  ‘Stop,’ said Vinod. Oars out of the water. Keir, Pat and Spencer smiled. I looked back at Murphy, his expression unreadable, his bare legs soaking wet and goose-bumped.

  Vinod said, ‘Does Spencer want to go into the banana boat?’

  I looked at Spencer, reflexively anticipating resistance. ‘Sure,’ he said, tentatively.

  ‘I want to go,’ interjected Murphy. I looked at Pat. Was he going to say it? ‘But you have no pants, son.’ Had Murphy forgotten already? What was he thinking? I glanced back at my young son. He was smiling, already imagining himself in the banana boat. Had his embarrassment already faded? Or was rowing in the banana boat like his brother simply more important than pantlessness?

  ‘Yes,’ Vinod pronounced. ‘Spencer, then Murphy.’

  The banana boat pulled up beside us and one of the guides stepped onto our boat effortlessly. We bobbled slightly. Instead of feeling anxious, I felt my body give in to the rocking of the boat. Then Spencer stood stiffly. Conducted by two of the men, he made his way haltingly to the front of the raft and was lifted down to the smaller boat.

  The many pictures I took of Spencer in the banana boat substantiate my zeal to capture his awkward grace and determination. When it became Murphy’s turn, however, I slid the camera into my pocket so he wouldn’t be self-conscious as he was lifted up – sunlight bouncing off his bare ass like a beacon to anyone who deems themselves incapable of surmounting obvious obstacles.

  Spencer might never be able to articulate why he chose that particular moment in India to climb a boulder. I was even less likely to find out how Murphy decided that missing the adventure would be far worse than his momentary embarrassment. But it reminded me of what I knew already and had forgotten that year: like a river, what propels us forward is far more powerful than what holds us back.

  But we must choose it and let go. Every day.