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RELISH IN THE TREAD

Author and Traveler  

Steven Keith Hunter

From Walking Across Europe to Hitchhiking the Asian Continent.

Read the books that reveal it all.

This is his life's work in modern historical travel fiction.

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AN EPIC VIEWPOINT FROM THE MANTLE OF A CLIFF, OVERLOOKING A DOZEN SNOW-CAPPED MOUNTAINS WITH CHRISTMAS TREE BEARDS.


OUR LEGS DANGLED A FEW HUNDRED METERS

ABOVE GROUND. WE WRAPPED OUR ARMS

AROUND ONE ANOTHER. TIME STOOD STILL. SUBMERGED IN THE BELONGING I FOUND WITH THESE COMPANIONS, I CONFESSED MY FEAR OF BEING USELESS AND LONELY. I ADMITTED MY DEEPEST WORRY: THAT ONE DAY I WOULD REALIZE I’D WASTED MY LIFE PLAYING AROUND.


AS THE WORDS FELL, A WEIGHT LIFTED FROM MY SHOULDERS, JUST LIKE MY BACKPACK A FEW MOMENTS BEFORE. MY FRIENDS CLOSED THEIR ARMS AGAINST MY BACK AND ONE AFTER THE OTHER, THEY TOO DECLARED THE GRIEVANCES THAT BROUGHT THEM ONTO THIS REFLECTIVE PILGRIMAGE.    

Relish in the Tread

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THE SINGING ERUPTED AFTER SUNSET. I HUGGED EVERY ONE OF MY FAMILY MEMBERS AS MANY TIMES AS I COULD.


WE SHOUTED INTO THE SKY WITH EVERYTHING WE HAD, TO ROXANNE AND TO QUEEN, FOR FREDDI MERCURY AND FOR US. WE WERE CHAMPIONS. WE WERE FREE. WE LOCKED ARMS. WE LIP SYNCED.


ALL OF THE BRICK WALKWAYS AROUND THE CATHEDRAL WERE PACKED IN TIGHT. GRIDLOCKED, WITH PEOPLE IN STRETCH PANTS AND WATERPROOFS, CARGOS, SWEATY T-SHIRTS AND BUTTON UPS. WILD, UNKEMPT HAIR, UNGROOMED BEARDS, UNWASHED FACES. WE WERE PILGRIMS AND FUCKING HAPPY ABOUT IT. 

Relish In The Tread

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Hiking the Pamir Mountains in Tajikistan

I clutched the blanket in my arms, pretending it was her. She looked so happy, felt so real and right. I held the blanket as close as I could. The dream was so lucid. The deflation of our night cleft my spirit with two iron hooks. That it was nothing more than a fantasy wilted my heart. There was nothing left but the unabating road

Relish In The Tread

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