“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: It was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”
J.R.R. Tolkien
So begins the tale of one Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire. His travels with the Elves and Dwarves, Men and many other creatures wonderful and woebegone have become the stuff of literary legend. Recommended reading to children of all ages. And don’t get me started on the Lord Of The Rings, or the Silmarillion. The man was a genius.
I have been a lifelong fan of J.R.R. Tolkien and all his works. So when I was out exploring, #somewhereinniagara, and came across this entrance to an underground bunker or storage facility of some kind, my eye naturally saw the round door of a Hobbit hole. Which is why this photograph exists.
Call me an old romantic, but I pictured in my mind the elderly Bilbo sitting calmly at his dinner table puffing a pipe and getting ready for his eleventy-fifth birthday party. Oh, the adventures he had.
The subtitle of The Hobbit is “There And Back Again”. Tolkien knew a lesson that he taught me as a small boy. That the final destination is only ever a small part of the adventure. The journey itself is a goal to be savoured. And that what happens along the way is equally worthy of tales and songs to echo through the ages, as friends and family rejoice in the retelling.
This. This is why I travel. To see. To find. To discover. To go there and back again.
