Am I home or not? The duplicity of my existence, torn between a settled home life in the woods of Nova Scotia, and the excitement and exotic life of flying helicopters off Africa's East Coast, snorkelling daily on world class reefs and mountain biking and night clubs and Swahili greetings with smiling kids, is becoming taxing. As I sit in my living room of my rural home, my beautiful Les Paul and Fender Super Sonic amp still humming as they cool, surrounded by my furniture and my plates and dishes, my books and magazines and hiking boots and survival knives and tools and compasses and DVDs and stereo surround sound and big screen TV, my dress clothes and winter jackets and leather belts and shoes for evenings out and for days of leisure, my surfboards and wet suits and oil paintings, my souvenirs and reminders of time spent in Norway and Azerbaijan and Turkey and Romania and Cuba, my toys and distractions, my snowboard gear and gear for hunting and for fishing, and I wonder, really wonder, what do I need? I've got my old mountain bike, a featherlight Norco Java frame, spray painted flat black, that I outfitted with full Shimano XTR gear and Race Face, Judy shocks with White Brothers innards, that I rode and raced and ran into black bears in the wilds of North Western Ontario and raced and placed, torn down and stuffed into a large hockey bag, to take back to Mtwara and my life there. The mountain biking in Mtwara is world class, and I wish I had bothered hauling over a decent bike much sooner.
My time home has been fun. My daughter and I did a ton of mountain biking, walks on Halifax's waterfront and downtown and lunches out and about. I've gotten in some serious trout fishing deep in the Nova Scotia wilds, catching my limit with fair sized speckled trout, bodies gleaming, the tender pink meat providing some very memorable meals. I threw a ton of lead down range practicing with my Winchester Alaskan .375 H&H and sighting in a new scope. I brought in excavators and backhoes and made yet another attempt to repair some drainage issues that have plagued the house for twenty years, and perhaps the days of water in the basement after a heavy deluge are over. I've given up on the impossibly sharp and robust steel of ESEE survival knives, despite being coated, the edges just rust too quickly, and go with a good 440C stainless steel instead, a nice Boker or SOG. Too many survival courses under my belt and too much time spent in the wilds to be without a good knife! I'll miss my green lush yard, sitting on my tranquil deck with a hot coffee and good book and watch the birds and squirrels frolic in the woods, but I am ready to go back to Africa, to flying, to my friends and life there.....
Headed back on Tuesday, time to start packing....
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