Naomi Weisman is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three who loves to Ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.
Beyond the Itinerary are stories from the places we’re going — and the things that stay with us. Sole Sister travel adventures take care of the itinerary. The things that happen beyond it are up to all of us.
Sometimes the most important thing you bring home from a trip isn’t something you packed in your suitcase.
This past week, a woman I met while walking Hadrian’s Wall with Sole Sister Ramblers flew to Toronto to spend a week with me. Just writing that sentence makes me smile.
A few months ago, we were two women who had signed up for the same adventure. We walked together, ate together, laughed together, and shared all those hours between breakfast and wherever our tired feet finally landed at the end of the day. Somewhere along the way, we became friends.
This week, Hadrian’s Wall felt a very long way away. Instead of Roman ruins, rolling hills and English pubs, it was Toronto, my cottage and a reunion with the other Toronto women who had shared that walk with us.
Everyone wanted to be part of her visit. We planned outings, got together, and then several of us headed to the cottage for four days. There was no wall to walk, and nowhere in particular we needed to get to. We simply had time together, and I’m beginning to think that might be one of the most valuable things we can give one another.
The Friendships We Didn't Know We Were Missing
Something interesting happens when you travel with people. You skip a lot of the usual stages of getting to know one another.
You're together first thing in the morning. You see each other when you're tired, hungry, wet, exhilarated, frustrated, and completely out of energy. You share meals and stories. You quickly learn who keeps everyone laughing, who notices when someone needs help and, importantly on a walking trip, who has the emergency blister supplies.
Walking adds another layer because there are hours to talk. On Hadrian’s Wall, conversations unfolded over kilometres. Sometimes they were funny and completely inconsequential; other times they became surprisingly personal. And sometimes we just walked.
By the time we reached the end of the trail, we knew one another in a way that probably would have taken much longer back home. What none of us could have known then was which of those friendships would continue once we packed our bags and returned to our regular lives.
This week was a pretty good indication that some of them were here to stay.
Friendship After 50
I've been thinking a lot about friendship at this stage of life.
By the time we reach our 50s and beyond, most of us already have a history of friendships behind us. There are childhood friends and work friends. Neighbours. Couple friends. Women we met when our children were young. People we've known for decades and couldn't imagine not knowing.
There are also friendships that have quietly faded, relationships that belonged to a particular chapter of our lives, and probably a few we've continued more out of habit than anything else.
It would be very easy to assume that our friendship circles are already complete. But this past week reminded me how much we might miss if we decide there is no longer room for anyone new.
Someone we haven't met yet could become important to us. So could someone we already know casually but have never really taken the time to know properly.
Making Room
There is something wonderful about an old friendship. There are people in our lives who know the entire backstory. They remember who we were at 25 or 35 or 45. There is shorthand, history, and enormous comfort in being known that well, and those relationships deserve to be treasured.
But I don't want my social life to be made up entirely of my past. I want to keep making room for the woman I happen to sit beside at dinner, someone who makes me laugh halfway through a difficult walking day, or the person I initially think I have very little in common with and then discover I could talk to for hours.
There are friendships I can't possibly anticipate because I haven't met the people yet.
Maybe one of the gifts of getting older is realizing that friendship doesn't have an expiry date for new applicants. We are still allowed to find our people.
Four Days at the Cottage
Our four days away weren't remarkable in the way we usually describe travel. There was no famous landmark to photograph, no bucket-list destination, and no challenging trail waiting for us in the morning.
We ate, talked, laughed, spent time outside, and stayed up later than we probably intended. Mostly, we had the luxury of being together without somewhere else we needed to be.
Something happens when you have that kind of time. Conversations go beyond the updates we give one another over lunch. Stories get longer. Questions lead somewhere unexpected. Someone tells you something you didn't know about her, and you come away understanding each other a little better.
I certainly came away knowing a woman I already cared about better than I did before she arrived. But I also found myself looking around at this group of women and thinking about the strange chain of events that had brought us together.
We signed up for a walk in England, walked alongside a wall built almost 2,000 years ago, and then came home. A few months later, here we were together at a cottage in Ontario because one of those women decided to get on a plane and visit.
None of that was on the itinerary.
What We Bring Home
When we talk about travel, we tend to talk about the places. Where did you go? What did you see? How far did you walk? Would you recommend it?
But perhaps another question should be: Who did you meet?
Sometimes that turns out to be the part of the trip that lasts the longest.
Hadrian’s Wall gave us spectacular scenery, Roman history, aching feet, shared meals and plenty of stories. It also put a group of women in one another's paths who might otherwise never have met, and that feels increasingly significant to me.
Our time becomes more precious as we get older. So does our attention, and I think we become more conscious of the people we want to spend both on.
I want to protect the friendships that have carried me through the earlier chapters of my life, but I also want to leave an empty chair at the table. I have no idea who might sit down next.
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