Direction

Bike riding with Helen can be interesting.

She has the worst sense of direction I've ever run up against. When she got her first job, we practised the route she'd be taking. It went, go left on the main street, turn right on the highway, and arrive at school. We practised for days. We also had to practise the route home.

She doesn't see the world the same way I do.

So I devised a nice route to get us to town today. Halfway along a lovely country trail, she said she'd rather go along the path the other way. She didn't mean, on the way home. She meant, can't we do this part of the trip in the other direction.

I answered in the negative.

At one point she was up ahead, and a choice in the route occurred. She didn't look back to gain an indication from me of which way to go. She turned right.

No problem, the right turn can work fine, but it does alter the rest of the route.

A bit later, she demanded to know why we weren't on the Kinnikinnick Park trail that I said we'd be using. She could see the Park, and was frustrated that I now insisted that using the trails would be the wrong way.

In town, she decided she wanted to go along the waterfront on the way home, before we got to the trails. I was forced to inform her that the two are kinda mutually exclusive.

We did ride the waterfront.

It was all good, but I can't imagine what it must be to have a through-the-looking-glass sense of location and direction.

Surely she can't imagine what it's like to always know where one is, and how to get to the next place.

Living in Sechelt has done wonders for her. There are really only two main directions around here.

She used to be a garage sale junkie. For years, I had to go along, but she eventually got the hang of this place. One Saturday morning, she dismissed me and headed out armed with a map. She got lost a bit, but kept at it. She is a thousand percent better than she was.

Once in a while, like today, she's back dancing through wonderland.

Helen in Wonderland.