I’m on the train again.  Northbound with faithful companions, backpack and camera by my side.  I’ve traveled this this route so many times I know and can predict each and every soft whipping turn, acceleration and deceleration point along the way without ever opening my eyes.

The sounds are familiar, the sway of my car is familiar.  I know this route well.  I know the tracks and how this train cooperates with them.  It’s becoming “my” route.  It is my route.

And while I hate routine, I find myself often lured into its trap, the one wrapped in something pretending to be safe.  Yet with each and every jostle and abrupt jolt caused by the defiance of the train against the tracks below I am gently reminded that I’m not always in control of the journey.

Surprisingly I’m not at all alarmed by this.

My eyes are still closed as I unconsciously and robotically lip the words of each station’s name as we arrive just as we always do.

Routine has once again lured me into its trap.  How very clever it can be.  But as the train pulls into the next station I quickly open my eyes and change my mind.  Off the train and onto the platform of a station I’ve never stepped foot on before…I’m ready to explore a new place.  This wasn’t my plan.

There I was with camera in hand and a different destination in mind this time, and surprisingly I’m not at all alarmed by this.

I am,
The Urban Mountaineer