The Atlas Expedition

Time for a rewind… erhh erhhh errhchtht!  That’s the sound of the record of my life coming to a screeching halt, the disk jockey of my memory giving a few erratic scratches, and then repositioning the stylus on August 8^th, 2012…

To be sure, a day like any other for most of the automatons bumping around the corridors of Corporate Americana, dutifully fulfilling their mindless duties… but for us- the start of a grand adventure!  To be fair, we had just recently returned from a four month posting at the South Pole, and a subsequent tour by bike and caravan of the Antipodes and Hawaii, and were in no position to complain of our recent lack of professional bondage- though the bank account was, if not already depleted, running quickly towards a fiscal cliff of sorts, and we all knew that sooner than later a long sentence as cubicle zombies lay in our near future. And so, with this bleak knowledge in hand, we jetted off to the far shores of distant lands, leaving our worries and job prospects where they belonged, at home.

Our plan was big.  Our plan was far reaching. Our plan was, dare I say, audacious. In our attempt to minimize travel cost, and maximize layovers, we employed air, sea and land transport, by conscious choice or spur-of-the moment caprice, while still achieving perfect rendezvous with three different groups of people, on four different occasions. Our itinerary started off with a stopover on the forbidding shores of icy Iceland, then a short tour of the Capital of the Dutch, followed by a quick flight to Madrid.

From Madrid, we rented a very small car, and drove south, hitting the ancient stronghold of the Moops in Spain, The Alhambra, followed up by another historical stronghold, that most British of British possessions, Gibraltar.  From there, a ferry across the straights found us standing for the first time on the shores of the Moroccan Maghreb, where we met up with our longtime friend, and in-situ Moroccan Peace Corp volunteer, Taylor. 

Another rental car, bigger this time, saw us zipping around the rural dirt roads of The Western Kingdom, seeing the sights, spending our Dirham, picking up our friends J and J in  Marrakesh, and then heading south, over the Atlas Mountains (this expedition’s namesake), to Taylor’s home site.  A quick stab into the sands of the Sahara, a stop off in Morocco’s historical capital Fez, then back to Marrakesh, for some haggling in the medina, and then our flight onwards to Italy. 

In Rome we picked up Kacey’s parents Val and Steve from the airport, rented yet another car, and proceeded to drive around Central Italy, going as far north as  Florence, stopping off in the tiny land-locked country of San Marino, then back south along the Adriatic coast, and across the boot to Naples, and the island paradise of Capri.  Our trip could have easily ended there, but we decided it would be prudent to make one last visit to London, our traditional home-base in Europe.  And then, because we like drinking and a good party, what the hell, a final weekend in Munich at Oktoberfest. Phew. Writing it all down kind of puts it in perspective.  It also makes me realize that I have more photos from this trip than is probably healthy to spend my time worrying about.  But, what is life, if not a disjointed series of snapshot memories stitched together in a flip book- or a blog as it were…

So, without further ado, let the story begin!