I'm reading Paul Theroux's "Dark Star Safari"

It's about his journey from Cairo to Capetown. I've only read about 60 pages, but one thing he wrote struck me:
"I really did suspect that I might be headed to a dark place, and as with all long trips I fantasized that I might die there."

Sometimes, leading up to a long trip in which I'll be going out of my comfort zone I have similar feelings. Not that I will die, but more like dread or depression or despair. It's hard to explain.

I used to have the same feeling right before the starting gun of each Boston marathon. You're entering the unknown and we humans always fear the dark.

On my first big trip (in January '05) after Jan died I had the same feelings. Just outright dread. Maybe it's a combination of what will happen "out there" and what will happen "back at the house?" You have little control over either.

HAd a dose of it before the Sri Lankan trip and maybe a little on this Central American trip coming up.

Nonetheless, I will always go. The rewards far outweigh the risks. The trips are over so quickly and when I get back I wonder what the deal was.

I think many people wish they could travel like me, in the abstract, but hesitate to pull the trigger and go. I don't hesitate.