Eden can be found on earth

In a broken pidgin language, I was warned of the very real chance of sea sickness during my trip to an island shrouded in secret dangers. An ancient steam-bellowing ship rammed into giant waves across a channel of turquoise water. Clouds parted midway to reveal two twin volcanic peaks on palm-fringed land that rose from a fresh-water sea like Peter's Neverland.

After the boat docked and the handful of passengers disembarked, I walked up a steep cobblestone road, finding a vantage of the mountain which allowed me to look up its lush slopes under a constant cloud that hovered over its peak like a skirt. I imagined what mystical secrets lay in this; one of the planets rare cloud forests, as I made arrangements to hire a dirt bike which would bring me up the mountain pass.

I had read an article about a place called Santosha that was first discovered in the mid '60s; "a place that is a state of mind, of being, a forgotten state of happiness and peace where the land belonged to all of us and there seemed to be no measure of time."

For 15 years after its publication, thousands of travellers used the clues in the piece to try and find this living Eden until the original writer admitted that Santosha never existed. Another decade passed before the ultimate truth was revealed and that Santosha did exist; only that it was called Mauritius.

As I rode up a road strewn with lava rocks and lined with banana fields, I wondered if I was dreaming, or if I had found my own Santosha. I came upon a natural spring that rose from the mountain side, pooling into a lagoon and continuing down a snaking stream through the overgrown jungle below me. The water was impossibly clear, tinted with shades of green and blue. It was an aquamarine paradise, complete with exotic birds and dew dripped foliage.

I woke up confused, rubbing sleep from my eyes and checking my bedside clock more than twice. Out the window, snow was flying and from downstairs I could hear the familiar sounds of the morning news from the radio. Had it all been a dream?

Was I born too late, in the wrong century, to make secret discoveries of volcanic islands and blue lagoons? Were there no more Santosha to unearth?

Although I'm not sure about Santosha, I am certain that traveling inspires imagination and imagination inspires travel; the two bounce off each other while enriching our experiences and smoothing out the sharp points of unresolved tension in our being. In time, you figure out that it doesn't matter if it's real, or if anyone other than you knows about it.

Imagination and travel no longer just bounce off each other, they mould into one. Once the adventure begins, every step on land is matched by a step in the mind and the real discoveries aren't limited to how much of our planet we have yet to see.

Feeling like Wendy's little brother; John Darling, who grew old until one day he completely forgot about his adventures in Neverland, I noticed a pebble in my shoe as I cleaned out a closet. I lifted it close to my face and, upon seeing it in the morning light, my heart stopped. There was no question; it was a lava stone.