The Return and the Road Ahead

A month ago I stood against a rock on Madeira with tears in my eyes and wrote about stopping. I was there for a few days. Then I stayed for almost a month.

Have you ever gone somewhere looking for an answer and come back with something you didn't expect? Not the answer exactly. But the feeling that maybe you've been asking the right question all along.

It wasn't a vacation. I was working. Walking levadas with my thoughts racing, sometimes talking to myself, sometimes singing out loud like a madman on a mountain path. But then there were these moments - off the trail, sitting on stones where the water just flows and flows, waterfalls all around. And there I actually stopped. Just sat and listened.

I had two lives on that island. In the north, it was just me. Me and the mountains and the work and those stolen moments by the water. When you're alone, there's this freedom that's hard to explain. You stop when you want. You take the path no one else would choose. You don't worry about whether you said the wrong thing or if you're being too much or not enough. The people pleaser in you gets to rest. You just... are.

In the south, I was with people I'd only known for two years - someone I used to coach at my previous job. We clicked somewhere along the way, and when I went to Madeira, they took me in. Nine days in their home. They cooked, they hiked with me, they made it feel like I belonged there.

One hike, her partner stepped right into a levada. Leg went down, water and mud everywhere. We laughed so hard. Another time we walked through a tunnel that was completely flooded - properly underwater. And one evening we ended up in front of a poncha bar, drinking Poncha de Pescador - the fisherman's poncha. We didn't choose the conversation that followed. The locals just came to us, so warm and open, and suddenly we're all standing there chatting in English, which was funny and a little absurd and honestly kind of beautiful.

And that's the thing. Being alone gives you freedom. But having someone to laugh with when everything goes sideways - someone to tell "you won't believe what I saw today" - that makes it real.

So did I find what I was looking for?

I think so. I want to stay in places long enough to have a favorite bakery. A favorite coffee roaster. A favorite levada. A spot in the mountains where you know exactly when the light hits right. A climb you keep coming back to - on the bike or on foot - because you know there's more in your legs than last time.

But it's also about the people. The locals who just come up to you at a poncha bar. The friend who takes you in. The stranger who becomes less strange. The person you meet on a mountain trail - you smile at each other, say hello, and keep walking. Or sometimes you meet them in a hut and suddenly you're talking. Sometimes it's raining and it's just you and them and a few words are enough.

I'm not good at that part, honestly. I'm an introvert who worries about not being enough for people I don't know yet. But Madeira showed me that sometimes they just come to you - and that's when the best things happen.

I'm already dreaming about where to go next. Scandinavia, France for L'Etape du Tour, Switzerland - and not alone, ideally. I'd love to share that road with the person I love most.

But life is messier than dreams. There are people I love who need me close. There's a dog who's getting old and can't come along. There are things in my personal life that aren't sorted yet and might take time. And when I got back from Madeira? I jumped straight into work. But not because I had to - I love what we're building and I really want it to succeed. It's more that I need to remember that taking care of myself is part of doing good work. Not separate from it.

I don't have it figured out. I'm getting back on my bike, trying to find some shape again. Trying to be a whole person and not just someone who works.

But I know what I felt there. And I know I want more of it.

Maybe that's enough for now.