It started as a daydream. The third-best shelling beaches in the world, within our country's borders.
It continued as an obsession. Time to myself. Beautiful pieces of nature to photograph.
It was put on the back burner, something I would do someday when a trip by myself or with girlfriends was a luxury but not a foolish extravagance.
It flashed across my mind in alarm as oil was spreading across the gulf. Would we run out of somedays?
Then I had an idea: why wait for someday? Why wait until I could go alone? I could go now, with the kids.
I had the idea on Thursday. I booked rooms (with some flexibility built in) on Sunday. On Monday, the kids and I set out on a grand adventure, not knowing how many days it would take us to get there, or whether we would all be screaming one or two or sixteen hours down the road, or how much fun or stress we would have, or when we would return.
All told, we took two days to get there, spent four nights on the island, and two days (ish) coming back. There were lots of expected and unexpected joys and relatively few lows. This starts a whole new chapter in family adventures, I suspect.
Some of this stuff is blogged under the "adventure" category on Spark (June 21-27 plus a "Surviving Spontaneity" series that followed it and is still waiting for completion). There's also a photo set on Flickr. Mostly it was the kind of amazing adventure that can't be described in words, and we all want to go back (with Dan this time) soon.