with day comes night

I havent felt like I've had anything great to write lately, but with encouraging words from some loved ones, I've decided to post some words that have been floating in my head lately.

I have been waiting for inspiration to hit me like a bolt of lighting. This whole time travelling I have felt like I have been standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to take the dive into some great truth. I had this niave idea that inspiration would come to me in a magestic and great form; not in the way of a banged up knee, stolen belongings, lonely nights, being stranded on the side of a road, or climbing a route that made me about pee my pants. I knew this trip would offer me many lessons to learn, and maybe hints of inspiration, but none have turned out the way I thought.

First lesson learned: dont wait. Dont wait for anything, especially inspiration. Get on that scooter, jump on the bus, travel down that dirt road, jump off that cliff into the deep blue sea...walk up and talk to that person. Order that item on the menu that you have no idea what it is. Hike up that intimadating mountain and go for the harder climb. Just keep walking, keep your eyes and heart open.

Sometimes you will get caught in the rain and have to hike out alone. Sometimes you will go for it, and then fall. But thats okay, that's part of taking a risk and reaching outside your comfort circle for inspiration; for that taste of sweetness that comes with living!

It seems the best lessons offered and inspiring moments during travelling are in the subtle things. The flowers and baby goats I walk by on the road, the feeling of salt water drying on my skin, the taste of oven baked feta. Its been the colors of the ocean I cant describe, the little shells I see sparkle on the ocean floor, that swim that lasted for hours allowing my thoughts and dreams to drift away with the swells. I have found strength in my courage to talk to people and reach out to make new friends. I have grown in trusting my instinct and believeing in my abillites. Finding kindness and love from a little old greek lady that brings me fruit or soup to eat everyday. Inspiration in watching others climb smoothly. Inspiration in seeing other people find happiness throughout the day. And having the blessed opportunity to step into other people's worlds and see how they live.

Sometimes the greatest inspiration comes from acts that takes practice and demand lots of sweat and maybe tears. With years spent working on a project or a skill, the hard work to gain "perfection" or that "one goal" gains clarity and comes into focus. "Like swimming laps, painting, or climbing, in the beginning the direction may be difficult and unclear, but after hours, days, and years of practice it becomes a habit and a form of living richly, finding happiness, and just in that, is what is truly inspiring" (MM).

By continuing with a project or goal, accepting the hardships and dull days along the way but not allowing those to fualter our steps, we improve our being tremendously. The following is a quote from a book that I am reading. I think the author states this very clearly:

"Life is difficult. Once we fully accept difficulty as natural and normal, we cease to be offended or daunted when we encounter a struggle or a test.  We can embrace these tests as opportunities. Difficult experiences are the way we learn, and they also are the way we can appreciate ease. We understand brightness by its contrast to dimness, happiness by its relationship to sadness. By embracing this duality of experience, we allow ourselves to find peace within our difficulities rather than wasting our power on trying to escape them. We shift to a position of power by focusing on seeds of opportunity within difficulty and staying curious, by exploring reality instead of avoiding it" (Arno Ilgner).





The Sun has found its home in Sitia

For this eastern part of Crete, Sitia, is far less developed that its western sisters: Rethymnon, Heraklion, and Chania. Not to discredit those places, well yes, Rethymnon and Heraklion suck. The only reason to see them is to fly into there and drive out of em to get to the west, east, or south coast. But Chania is a special city in itself. I stayed my few days there in Old town, which, early in the morning, before the toursits are up, is completely charming and fun to walk around in. Its right on an ancient port, there are beaches close by, boat trips, resturants and clubs on the waters edge when the evening starts, and ancients ruins and museums to check out.


Southern Crete feels like an entire different island! I took the ferriers from port town to port town moving west. I started in Hora Sfakion, stayed for a day and night (good food and friendly people!) passed by Loutra, a cute old fishing village, but too small and not a really a beach to right home about, and then I stayed a night and two days in Agia Roumeli, which I regret leaving so soon. This little town is often ignored and only a launching off point to catch a ferrier or go on to Palehora (the next western port town). I would love to spend at least a a few days in Agia Roumeli. It is small, so its not foreverone, and its quiet, which i like. No cars, no motocycles, just you and God's beautiful landscapes! It has two of the best beaches on either side of it. Big enough to share with a hundred other people and still feel like its empty. But the pebble beach, which is a bit harder to get too, but worth the 15 mintue hike, is seemly empty and only used by the few naked sun bathers. That beach is trully a little bit of heaven that fell from the sky. No waves, no currents, perfectly clear swimming along the bay for thousands of meteres. There are huge boulders strewn along the beach that allow for some shade and privacy against the sun, and the cliffs of the mountains shoot up so dramatically, that if you get tired of looking out onto the beautiful sea, you can turn around and stare at awe of the red virtical cliffs above. Another special thing about Agia Roumeli is that it is at the mouth of the opening of Samaria Gorge. I hiked up part of this, two hours up and two hours down, and it is as breath taking as all the post cards make it out to be. Sorry I dont have a picture, but if i did, I doubt my lens would be able to capture the significance of the stunning vertical cliffs and geological features that change every few hundred meters. The hike is easy, its is a slow mellow grade, and i think it took me two hours just because I was looking up the whole time. Its amazing. Go.

Sad to leave Agia Roumeli too soon, the ferrier ride farther west was suprisingly beautiful. If I could afford to hire a private boat to explore the southern coast of Crete I would. There are secluded private beaches, more gorges to hike into, and the perfect places to pitch a tent and be a hermit for a while. The next town over is Palehora, a much larger port town, I think at least a few thouhsnad people live here. Old hippies and grumpy locals are the type you will find. Its not really charming during the day. If you like a little bit more night life, its a fun place to be. They close the streets to cars at night, and the bars and resturants take over, putting out more chars and tables for those night owls. You will find good music, but not the best food and the beaches are too windy for anything other than windsurfing.

Back to Chania, I spent two more nights. Its a fun place, with plently of good resturants, art shops, and a fun to take an evening stroll along the waters edge to people watch. The bus ride to Sitia from Chania is long, but I wouldnt of wanted to drive it. If you dont think about falling over the edge of the cliff you are driving on, the view of the horizon and little islands is so worth the trip. After the toursity city of Agios Nikalos, the scenery turns into acres and acres of olive groves and scattered mountain villages. Once you arrive in Sitia, you walk directly from the bus stop to the water's edge in 5 minutes.

Sitia is a small port town, with old Venitan homes mixed in with the modern buildings that look like they at stacked on top of one another up the mountain side above the harbor. Its a large natural bay, but the town is very small. You can see almost all of it in half an hour. Looking out across the bay the gentle slops of the mountains are decorated with the green plots of olive farms and the occasional white groupings of a few houses. On the tops of the mountain range are wind turbines ( !) and as the deserty and dry range slopes softly off it looks like the tip of the peninsula is sinking into the sea. The narrow streets of Sitia, weave back and forth up the hill, where clothes hang out to dry on the balconies of the buildings. The stone ruins of an ancient castle is sort of hidden amoungest the modern buildings, but still seems like it looks over the city and harbor. There is a long and wide walk way where the resturants stake their ground, each playing their own version of Greek music or some disco to allure the younger crowds.

Sitia is defiently a town that deserves more than a couple days stay and underneath its simple look of just a port town, there are little jewels to be found.One thing this town is not lacking: resturants and sweet shops. Dont come here if you dont like to eat Its an enjoyable place to walk, try really good food, and soak up the peaceful scenery. The swimming at the beach along the bay is incredible with clear shallow water out for meters and sandy clean bottoms.The bay acts as a natural sheild against most of the wind, and the slight off shore breezes are very welcome and keep the temps here perfect.


I still cant figure out how to up load pictures on these Greek computers...sorry. Use your imagenation!

treasure hunter

I am on a quest. And the purpose of my quest is simple: to be surrounded by beautiful environments, natural or man-made, to dive into the lifestyles and piculars of people i meet or reuinte with along the way, eat really fucking good food, get lost and hopefully find my way out, go swimming everyday, and get whatever little tan my irish heritage will allow me.

And so far, i have been blessed to have experienced pieces of all those things. But as many of us know, our plans never go as romantically or idealically as expected. So far my heart was streched deeper than I could ever imagened with my time spent in Wales working at the camp, my two weeks in Ireland in family allowed me the quiet time to calm my thoughts and fears, feed my soul with good food and conversations with family. My time in London with Lauren was honestly too short. I love hanging out with lauren for multiple reasons: a) we always have fun b) we always have more fun than anyone else! c) we center eachother and encourage eachother to live life to the fullest.  Thanks Laur. After London, I went to Rome before the family arrived, to see the eternal city on my own for a few days. It was amazing, but cities always make be feel lonely if Im not with loved ones, so I was very excited when Benny arrive followed by the rest of the Morehart clan in the following days. From Rome, 56 Morehart's boarded a cruise ship and saw Cannes, Barcelona, Mallorca, Tunsia and Sicily. All these beautiful places were  spectacular, but it was the gift of exploring them and sharing those memories with cousins, aunts and uncles that made the trip wonderful.
Back in Rome we spent another week with a friend who was born and lives there part of the year. What a way to see Rome! With our own personal tour guide, he knew all the best resturants, sites, and markets to see.
And so the family, bit by bit flew back home. Bodie changed his ticket last minute and has joined me for a week exploring Crete. So we been driving south and floating west along the Cretian coast  staying in the little port towns and swimming in perfectly warm and clear waters. Its not bad!

With almost two months of travelling worn through on my shoes, things never went as expected. In Mallorca I got injured (and shattered my $1,500 camera) and its been prohibiting me to move as fast as before, but its probably good I stay on the cautious side once I start travelling alone again. Back in Rome, Benny and I got robbed within hours of being back in the city, with over $4,000 in belongings stolen. Back home, I miss my dogs terribly and occasionally wake up at night wishing i was in my own soft bed, I find myself worry about finances, job opportunities I may be missing, etc. Moreover, a dear friend of mine has gone through another intensive surgery, elonging his own journey of healing from a serious accident that happened over a year ago. So, there have been things that make me stratch my head and question: what the fuck am I doing here? But I think whenever we go aboard, there is always a pull to go home, with more than not, the fantasy of home being so cosy and reunited with friends, things and routines we start to really miss. But like travelling, nothing turns out like expected. Travelling always wakens us up to this.

Yesterday we arrived by ferrier to Agia Roumeli, walked up to a cafe where the owner sat with us for over an hour asking about our travels and telling us about this part of Crete, his family, and other small talk. We put our stuff in a room and hiked along a stoney dirt trail east of the little village, past pine trees that smelled sweet in the midday sun, by a few campers set up under the trees, and the sound of the local goats' bells gently making noise as they casually cruised by...we climbed around some caves, stepped over a few naked sunbathing Greeks, and literally stumbled down the path onto a huge isolated pebble beach. We flung our hot bodies into the sea and spent the rest of the day there. I think I swam at least 1000 meters and didnt get out of the water for 4 hours straight.

It was a good day. A day that made me think: I'm in Greece! This is where I am supposed to be right now, right HERE, floating in the warm clear water, tanning my skin and exploring parts of this paradise with my brother.

finding a rythmn

Travelling offers the rare opportunity to be pushed outside of one's comfort zone, stretched beyond the familiar routine of one's day at home, and  thrown away from the familiarities that gives us shelter. Though homey and safe, the routine we form at home sometimes stunts us, and we forget how to be adventurous.

Travelling gives us the opportunities to be adventurous, to take advantage of a moment that might seem uncomfortable, strange, or scary, and turn it into a moment where we gain power over those fears, feelings of anxiety or homesickness, and turn it into something freeing and expanding.

Travelling offers us many different experiences and senses that we cant get at home. We are confronted with different struggles and emotions, and range over a broad spectrum day to day. But being able to take those uncomfortable moments, and turn them into an challenge to over come; a learning lesson in itself to grow and let go of those unnecessary fears and restraints. It gives us those few and brief moments to live very richly. And by that, I mean we live beyond our inner and repetitive dialogue. We get outside of ourselves, to meet new and different people, to see new places, to taste new things and overcome new challenges with grace. Not to say we don't have these same opportunities at home, but sometimes without a push or shove to change, it is easy to stay in one place and not notice the endless beautiful and thrilling things before us.

For me, this change is coming slowly, like a young spring flower, my bud is still closed, ready to open but still unsure of when or how. Leaving home my head was in a blur and my heart was scared of the unknown. I knew if I wanted my head and heart to be in sync and get to a clearer place, I needed to grow. I needed a change. But I had not regained my 'adventerous legs' back quite yet, and some quiet time surrounded by loving family, good food, and the beautiful country of Ireland would allow me to take a breath and reground myself. Being with family has been good, but I also enjoy being solitary person at times. Happy to be alone for hours, even days sometimes; I know that finding alone time each day is vital to my mental happiness and clarity.

So, everyday I take time out to be alone. Usually it is in the morning, when things are slow. I put on my running shoes, grab my waterproof shell, and set off down the muddy dirt drive way and onto the road that bends around the endless coastline.  My legs don't feel as strong as they did back home when I was running and swimming everyday. But an hour run in the mornings and sometimes again in the afternoons, brings back the joy to feeling my muscles move my body forward.

I never thought I could enjoy it before, but running in the rain is something I see myself falling in love with. Breathing in the seaside air, drying sea weed, the dankness of the fields and smell of wet wool from the sheep cover the inside of my nostrils. The cold rain runs down my bare legs and clings to my hair and face. Its very different from running the trails or beach's of Santa Barbara, and my senses are introduced to new things, but my legs work the same, and my lungs still burn the same, my cheeks are still become flushed, and I still find myself smiling for how quick the hour on the pavement goes by.

Getting back to my Morehart roots

"Where did they come up with the name Dingle?" asks Manuel.
"Oh, its probably short for dingle-berry" replies Mike  and they both break out in shared laughter.

This type of silly banter is quite common between my two uncles.
Manuel and Mike both stand a little over 6 feet each, with strong broad shoulders and each with a slight twinkle in their eyes. Mike is the older brother, a little crusty looking from years at sea, deep soulful eyes, with a wild head of grey hair and a good amount on his chest poking up through his collar. Manuel only has a few greys, always in his jeans and flip flops, and has a rosy and tan face. You can tell they are brothers. They share the same nose, the same tan skin, same big hands and strong build. A build of men that have trekked and sailed and seen far corners of the world. They have worked using their hands, have spent many long hours in storms out at sea and coaxed their way out of trouble or caused some themselves. And they stand next to each other in the doorway of our hotel, looking out into the little street where its pouring down rain. They stand tall, but obviously relaxed. You can tell they are waiting for someone to walk by to talk too, to ask a question or just talk about the weather. They are comfortable standing there chatting. No need to rush anywhere, just enjoying the company of each other that they seldom get to share now-a-days. 

Mike lives in Argentina with his family and Manuel lives in part time in Ireland and southern California with his family. They share much more than just looks and humor as brothers. Though they lead very different lives, they both inherited the thirst to have incredible adventures.
Its actually really ridiculous the amount they can make you laugh when you spend just a few minutes around them. And I will be with them straight for 2 weeks. So I am thrilled to spend this valuable time with them and their families and getting a good dose of laughter and little adventures in between.


But they joking is well fed with a richly lived life. They both have stories of great adventures themselves. Manuel at the ripe age of 18 left home with a buddy and hitch  hiked around the world. Yeah, they made their way across the US by illegally jumping on a few trains to get to the east coast, and got a crew job on a ship over to Africa. where he got arrested and thrown into prison...and my grandparents didn't hear of him for 9 months. they thought he was dead. he was anything but. he was young and brave, completely broke, having his first grand adventure...of the world.

Mike has many great stories as well. And he has done his fair share of sailing and living around the globe. I call him my pirate uncle, for stories that cannot be disclosed publicly in this blog. He has called many places home including New Zealand and Tahiti, California and Colorado, and now he lives on his ranch with his family in Argentina. Even today we found ourselves reminiscing about stories when my family and I sailed with him to Easter Island. 12 days at sea, him and my dad got us there safe and sound, thru high seas and storms...then he turned around and sailed back. and then somewhere else again.
He is my pirate uncle.

Okay, I'm guna back track a little what has happened in the past few days, so bear with me.

So from Pembrokshire in Southern Wales, I took the 3 hour ferrier from Fishguard harbor over to Rosslare. From there I took the 6 hr bus ride to Cork, found a hotel room for the night, and left in the morning for another couple hour ride to Tralee to meet up with Mike and Manuels families. I was definitely happy to see some familiar faces, but we had another 2 hour drive to get to Dingle. But unlike the bus rides, the sky was a little clearer and the landscape was beautiful, looking out onto the sea and rolling green pastures.

We arrived happy to be in Dingle, our sister city to Santa Barbara.  It was actually my grandfather, James Bottoms, who started the idea of getting Dingle and Santa Barbara to be connected from being inspired by a trip he took years ago. In 1999 James took a side trip to Dingle when he was travelling Ireland. He had heard of Fungie, the dolphin that has lived in the bay since 1983. He took a boat ride out into the bay, and put on a wetty, and jumped right in, taking a very special swim with Fungie. My grandpa was so moved by this experience, he decided that doing a sculpture of Fungie to always be remembered by all who visit Dingle was a project he wanted to make happen. And so, a year later in 2000 the sculpture of Fungie was arrived and displayed in the Dingle Bay and the connection of the two sister cities was complete.
Thanks grandpa!

After two days of exploring the cute little harbor town of Dingle, we drove to Killarney for a night on the way back to Skull. Yesterday when arriving we explored the last standing oldest castle in Ireland, The Ross Castle, or stone tower as it was called back when it was made in 1400. It was sacked a couple times by Vikings and now is on display for tourists to walk around eating ice cream and take pictures next to the old stone walls. We decided that a boat ride around two of the giant lakes in front of the castle was a better option for us. The views were spectacular, and we got to see secluded ancient ruins of churches on islands where monks lived in 1500 and 1600. Turns out they also got sacked by Vikings too.

This morning in Killarney, my cousin Marco and I, went for a horse back ride throughout the national park along side the lakes. We rode a couple of sweet Clydesdales, or what they call an Irish draft horse and went for cantering through the pastures. Lots of fun riding a big horse like that! Next we head back to Manuel and Lisas house near Skull.

Pictures will come when I find a computer that I can transfer them onto.

A Week with the Knights of Malta

A month after graduating from UCSB I packed my bag-- and then bought a plane ticket and got on a plane headed for Wales, with a quick stop on the way in NYC to see an old friend. In between that chaotic rush of trying to get organized for this trip, enjoying my last summer days in Santa Barbara, an email I sent back in May finally followed up with a reply: they wanted me as a volunteer.

So here I am. Wednesday night sitting in a little internet cafe surrounded by new friends, out in the middle of the Pembrokeshire country side, with the rain softly drifting down outside.

A week ago I left Santa Barbara for a trip, pitifully half-assed and weakly planned, awkwardly jumped into, leaving me feeling right before getting on the plane, hesitant and worried, with the ache of regret shivering down my spine.

What I didn't expect was how quickly I was able to separate the travel anxieties and worries from hindering me to live in the present. Maybe my past (not so comforable) trips to Panama, Honduras and Bolivia have gotten me used to it. But also thanks to a good friend who I always have a blast with, my worries quickly floated away, and I jumped into what was actually going on. The two days in NYC left me feeling like I had partied for a week straight, accompianied by rich food, strong drinks and lots of laughter to keep my head, liver and tummy sore for days. But it was worth it, and I got to make up my sleep on the flight over to London. Thank you Caitlin for wrapping me up in your NYC life...until next time!


The past four days I have been working as a volunteer at the 27th Order of Malta International Holiday Camp in Great Britain. There are over four hundred campers and volunteers this summer, coming from 20 countries. Only 5 of us make up the American team, where all the other groups are here in the 20s. The American team is the smallest, as it has been for the past few years. But that doesnt affect how we are quickly engulfed by the veteran campers who radiate energy and happiness that shows how much they simply enjoy being here. For those of you that don't know, the Order of Malta is...wikipedia it. Just kidding...here's a little info on it:

Since the 11th century, the Order of Malta has cared for the sick, the needy and refugees, with total impartiality. The Order has sovereign status which puts it in a unique position to carry out humanitarian work effectively. It has permanent observer status at the UN and other international forums and diplomatic relations with over 100 countries, and can respond immediately to disasters worldwide. Currently the Order of Malta has 13,000 members and 59 organisations worldwide.


Its hard to explain with words what experiencing these past 4 days has been like. Its been a wave of new emotional, mindful, and spiritual experiences constantly; I am exhuasted. I've had to fight back the tears more times that I can count...everyone here leaves me in awe of their kindness and happiness to be alive no matter their circumstance. And the other helpers, who are always watching over their guests that are severely physically disabled and handicapped, leave me in awe just the same. It literally has shocked me. I dont know how else to describe it.

Something is moving me, and its not exactly the common Christian principles among us all, but just being around everyone here and the joy they share with all those they meet or pass by showing their big smiles.

Every moment I am around everyone I feel it changing my perspective of how I see people's real capability to live. And to live fully.

Here is a quick video of what one of our days at camp have been like.

IHC2010 Great Britain Tuesday from ihc2010 on Vimeo.