A Walk Along the Beach(25)
Communication would be difficult. There likely weren’t many cell phone towers anywhere close to where I planned to stay. From the research I’d done, I accepted that the remote area would likely have primitive conditions and no Wi-Fi. I’d have to go into town to find an Internet café, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to make that trek often.
The day was perfect. Then again, it could have been overcast and raining and I wouldn’t have cared, as long as I was with Willa. Although it might not be entirely true, I’d never been in a relationship where a woman was interested in getting to know me. The real me and not the sports hero. Again I might be exaggerating, but it always felt as if the relationship was based on what I could do for them, their social standing, their ego, or what I could give them.
I used the excuse of building my career as a photographer to avoid dating. I left the big city behind, sequestered myself. Seeking out a woman, wooing her, was an entirely new experience for me. Deep down, I recognized Willa was worth the effort, and I had no intention of letting her slip through my fingers.
Sitting in the sand with her at my side, we ate fresh-off-the-grill hamburgers that Harper and her friends made along with all the fixings. Although Willa protested, Harper insisted on bringing us plates piled high with a variety of picnic food.
It seemed the entire town of Oceanside was on the beach. Sitting just down from us were Annie and Keaton, along with Mellie and Preston. I remembered hearing that at one time Mellie had been an agoraphobic, afraid to leave her home. Looking at her now, I found that hard to believe. It appeared the two couples were close friends. Keaton was a gentle giant. It was clear from the way he looked at his wife, and the exchanges between them, how deeply in love they were. For a short while I found it hard to look away. That kind of love was what I wanted, what I’d hoped to find in my own life.
“You leave tomorrow?” Willa asked, breaking into my musings.
A group of teens played volleyball down the beach as children raced back and forth, kicking up sand. Kites flew overhead and the surf eased against the shore, leaving a haphazard trail of bubbles edging the sand in a lacelike pattern.
“I’ll be off first thing tomorrow, changing planes in Atlanta and flying into La Paz.” Willa knew all that; I’d gone over it two or three times since I told her I’d be leaving right after the holiday. Placing my arm around her, I brought her closer to my side. Sighing, Willa leaned her head against my shoulder.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, babe.” I heard the same reluctance in her that I’d been experiencing myself. The attraction I felt for Willa was unexpected. My life was comfortable. When I’d moved to Oceanside, I’d done it for a fresh start, a new beginning. What I hadn’t expected when I made this move was meeting Willa.
Her hand drifted to Bandit and she scratched his ears, giving my dog comfort and perhaps seeking it for herself.
“I’m dropping Bandit off with Logan later tonight.” I’d be taking a couple of days in La Paz, Bolivia, to acclimate to the change in altitude. I intended to head for the Bolivian Apolobamba region. My idea was to document how climate change had affected the alpaca herders. I knew I would need to take a couple of days to connect with my guide and to sort through and secure my equipment.
“I should be able to be in touch with you while I’m in La Paz, but probably not much after that.” I knew this wasn’t what Willa wanted to hear. What I doubted she understood was that not being able to talk to her would be equally hard on me. I’d grown accustomed to sharing my day with her and hearing about hers. It surprised me how close I felt to her.
“I understand.” She kept her head lowered. “You won’t be in any danger, will you?”
“I won’t seek it out and I know how to handle myself. Fortunately, I speak the language and have hired a guide who will take me where I need to go.” Undoubtedly, there would be certain risks. There were in any travel, but I could get hit by a bus right here in Oceanside. I wouldn’t allow fear to hold me back. Having traveled all over the world by this point, I had little doubt I’d be fine.
“Will the guide be with you the entire twenty-three days?”
“No. He’ll drive me to Lake Titicaca toward the town of Charazani and beyond. I’ll meet up with one of the locals there and stay with him in his home.” Nothing could replace this kind of experience.
“How far is that from La Paz?”
That remained unclear. “Can’t tell you in miles, but Reymundo, my guide, said the drive would take around six hours.”
“Then what?”
“Then we walk.”
“Walk? To where?” She was beginning to sound more concerned.
“It’ll be fine. The whole idea is for me to document what’s going on in the lives of the alpaca herders living in that area. Climate change has had a drastic impact on their lives and their story needs to be told.”
“How do you know about this?”
That was a whole other story, one which I chose to condense. “I was on another shoot in South America, in Peru, and I met the son of one of the alpaca herders, who had recently returned from visiting his family in that area. He told me of his parents’ plight and their struggles to make a living on the land that had sustained generations before him. I decided I wanted to see it for myself.”