Getting lost

It is a luxury of traveling to be able to get lost without too much upset. I have always relished it in a way. My mum has admonished me on our road trips over the years for getting us lost on purpose and being a bit too perky over some potentially extreme wrong turns. This one occasion found us crawling through the Louisiana Bayou at dusk...swampland either side of us harboured a murkiness and threat that thrilled me whilst leaving poor Mama pulling out her hair.

So far my trip hasn't had quite enough of this. It's been very much dictated by the places I have to reach each day - which have all been great and a real joy, but just not leaving time for idling and misadventure along the way. I will loosen things up to make room for enjoying the mistakes on the road.

I did squeeze in a bit though - between Woodchurch and Dover I ducked off the A28 out of Ashford, through Wye and then well off-piste up and down some tiny country lanes. As I examined the map for the most straightforward meander I found nothing but a tangle of noodle-like roads, splitting and contorting in multiple directions. Suck it and see, I thought and crashed on regardless - despite a Biblical thunderstorm. The sky went sombre, the puddles swelled and it seemed as though every living creature for miles around disappeared into its hedge/nest/hole, leaving just me and Jimmy rumbling guilelessly along...

I emerged onto a proper, clear-cut, direct road a long time later, a little bewildered but engulfed by a sense that I had fought through a meddling conspiracy of lanes and won!....in a long, roundabout, would have been more sensible to take an easier route kind of way.