It’s been some time since I’ve updated this blog. COVID has taken its toll on my traveling adventures, as it has for most of us. But beyond that, I also became pregnant with my first child (Hello, COVID baby!). So we’ve been keeping our adventures a little more low key and way more local, while we’re letting this bun cook in the oven.
Matt and I intentionally waited to have children until later in life (Read: When I’m of “Advanced Maternal Age” according to every physician I have seen. Rude.). We wanted to be sure that we were ready for the challenge and would be financially, emotionally, and mentally ready bring our kiddo on as many adventures as possible. We want him to see and experience the world!
Surrounded by people who know my love of and deep experience with travel, I comfortably shared our desires to travel early and often with Baby Sprout (the temporary name we have given our unborn child). I spoke about the research I had done, knowing that it won’t be easy or the same as it was pre-baby, but that it’s such an important part of how we want to raise our child. However, rather than being greeted by support and helpful advice, I was largely told I was crazy and that it was impossible. I was even told by one friend that it’s “a fine delusion to live with…for now”.
Since then, I have also been told many things I “cannot” do and things I “must” do once I’m a mother.
Under NO circumstances, will I be able to:
Ever have anything for myself
Ever travel without the child guilt-free (especially for work!)
Ever travel with the child and be sane
Ever have anything in my house that isn’t covered in toys, snot, and / or poop
If I want to be a halfway decent mother, I MUST:
Have a play room: an entire room of my house dedicated to just toys. Note: This apparently cannot be the nursery.
Prepare myself to not want to go back to work. Note: My amazing husband being a stay-at-home dad will apparently not be enough.
It’s as though everything people have known about me for the first 35 years of my life has ceased to exist as I grow this tiny human inside me. 🤔
My Take:
I don’t believe in telling people what they can’t do or what they have to do. Is it going to be hard as hell to bring Baby Sprout on international adventures? Will I miss him when I’m getting back to traveling for work? I’m sure! I have no qualms admitting that I have never done this before and I can only imagine how hard it will be. That’s why I want some advice and helpful tips!
But impossible? F-no. People do it. All. The. Time.
So, something that might prove to be more useful moving forward… having experienced parents support new parents with helpful advice, listening to their individual dreams, and cheering them on for doing things they may not choose to do themselves.
In the meantime…
Matt and I are preparing some epic adventures for Baby Sprout:
Year 1: Chicago, California, and Florida
Year 2: Europe or Asia
I’m sure there will be exhaustion and tears (his and ours). But I’m also sure that we’ll figure it out together, and experience the wonder and difficulties that come with travel.
A Note: As anxiety and uncertainty run rampant during the COVID-19 quarantine, nature continues to bring me peace. I may not be able to enjoy it as freely as I’d like right now, but even quick hikes and walks in view of the mountains bring me joy. And it reminds me of another time that nature healed my broken spirit...
In 2019, my sister and I had planned to do our first “solo” backpacking trip. After doing many day hikes together and successfully summiting Kilimanjaro on an 8-day guided trek, we were ready to take the plunge. We planned to do the Four Pass Loop: a 4-day backpacking loop around the legendary Maroon Bells, complete with four 12,000-ft+ passes and some of the most breathtaking scenery in the Maroon Bells- Snowmass Wilderness area.
Our original plan was to complete the hike in mid-July. But due to some epic snowfall and avalanches, the trails were impassable. So, we decided to reschedule for late August. I had planned every step of our trip: our path, how far we would go each day, our gear, our food, how we would handle water crossings, and more. And we were so ready.
But the universe had something else in store for us. In mid-August, our 97 year old grandmother became quite ill. And on August 28, she passed away. She had an incredibly full life, living nearly a century. However, it didn’t make the loss any easier. Grams was my person. She and I would gab for hours every time I visited her. And she always told me that we had kindred spirits– that she was seeing the world through my eyes. She was proud of my explorer’s heart and always supported my travels, even if she didn’t always understand them. She would actually brag to her friends about her granddaughter who had been to all seven continents and her two granddaughters who had climbed Kilimanjaro together.
So after she passed, my sister and I knew that the best way to honor our grandmother and heal our broken hearts was to take this adventure in nature together. So, we set out, determined to make it happen no matter what.
DAY 1
The trailhead began in front of the beautiful Maroon Bells, the most photographed spot in Colorado. And it’s no wonder why.
We started the hike with 37-pound packs and decided to go clockwise– the most popular direction to go. We didn’t bring any luxuries: just a good winter tent (it gets cold at altitude at night!), a bear canister (required in these parts), our food, trekking poles, and gear. The beginning of the trail was very rocky and steep, but we were excited to begin our journey.
A few miles in, we came across a stream and decided to filter water. However, this proved more difficult than originally anticipated. I had brought a gravity bag to filter our water which is a great filter to use, but only works if there are trees to hang it from. Unfortunately, for us, it was shrubs for days. After trying everything (including just trying to hold the bag above my head…. we were desperate!), we came across a group of hikers who helped us find a tree stump perched off of a ledge. That did the trick! We then found a campsite at about 11,600 feet in elevation, cooked dinner, hid our bear canisters and went to bed exhausted and excited for our first two mountain passes the next day.
Day 2
We woke up before sunrise in order to hit the trail early. We needed to complete two mountain passes before noon to avoid hitting any inclement weather while exposed above tree line. West Maroon Pass was up first (12,590 ft), and it was a steep and narrow hike. But it was gorgeous and the views were completely breathtaking.
As we descended and made our way to Frigid Air Pass, the wild flowers were in full bloom and the sky was idyllic. It gave us a moment to reflect on what we were doing, what we were accomplishing, and what we had lost. In the midst of this beauty, we knew this was something Grams would have loved to see. And it made us feel closer to her in some way.
We made our way to Frigid Air Pass (12,415 ft). And while we heard that it was the easiest of the four, it certainly didn’t seem to be the case. It was steep and rocky, causing me to lose my footing more than once. But, again, the views were incredible from the top.
After we descended, we came upon King Falls which was spectacular. We considered camping near here, but decided to keep pressing ahead to give ourselves a better head start the next day.
We camped in a beautiful clearing, although overrun by insects. During this experience, we mastered the art of the “defensive swat”, keeping bugs out of our tent while we unzipped 😂
DAY 3
This was my absolute favorite day of our hike. We started the day by crossing a freezing stream as we made our way to the most difficult pass: Trail Rider (12,420 ft). This was the steepest of the passes, requiring you to climb 1000′ in just one mile. But the weather was beautiful and the views were unbeatable. I mean, c’mon…
We couldn’t wait to make our way down to Snowmass Lake, where we would be making camp for the night. But to get there, we needed to cross a massive rock slide which was super fun.
And when we finally got to camp, we were not disappointed. It was by far the most crowded of the campsites, but that is only because of how stunning the location is. We ate by the lake, did some much needed stretching and yoga, and did a bit of star gazing. We were able to truly relax and had completely lost track of the things that cluttered our daily minds: texts, emails, work issues, social media, and everything else. We were able to focus on the moment, the experience, and to reflect on our grief. It was exactly what we had needed.
We headed back to camp at dark and experienced only one snafu: Diana sliced her hand open in our tent, requiring me to fetch our bandages from our bear canister in the pitch black. Not gonna lie… it was pretty spooky walking in the woods late at night to fetch a canister full of things that attract bears. But it was also kind of thrilling.
Day 4
Buckskin (12,500 ft) was by far our easiest ascent. In fact, it was so gradual at parts, we had a hard time deciphering which mountain we were actually climbing! And when we finally did reach the pass, we found a social trail to the actual peak. We decided to take the extra time to make the climb and have lunch at the top. And it was well worth it.
As we finished the day and grew closer to “civilization”, we were proud of what we had accomplished. We had navigated the wilderness by ourselves. We had filtered our own water. We had cooked our own food. We used bear canisters. We set up and took down our tents. We completed four epic mountain passes over the course of four days. And most importantly, we knew Grams would have been proud of us too.
One year ago, almost exactly, I stepped foot on my seventh continent and I was overwhelmed with emotion. Truly overwhelmed. I felt proud of my accomplishment, nostalgic about the places I had been, excited for the journey ahead, and just pure, simple joy. But what I didn’t feel was a sense of calm or completion. In fact, almost as quickly as I stepped foot on Tanzanian soil, I realized that this wasn’t the completion of a lifelong goal, but rather the start of a new adventure. I realized that I will never be “done”. And my thirst for travel cannot be quenched. Because travel isn’t about a goal for me; it’s the very lens I take on life. It’s the way I define who I am. It’s the thing that motivates me every single day. It’s my obsession. I can’t imagine what my life would be without planning for an upcoming trip. I can’t imagine what kind of void I would feel if I didn’t have a list as long as I am tall of all the places I want to go and the things I want to do. And I can’t imagine what my bank account would look like if I wasn’t constantly putting it toward my latest trip.
But my travel obsession has often called many of my life’s priorities into question— specifically, when I’ll “finally settle down”. And I’ve always hated that notion. What does settling down even mean? And why is it important? Does it mean accepting life as I get older and the required responsibilities ahead? Does it mean being content with where I am and what I’m doing? Does it mean buying a house? Does it mean having kids? And why isn’t it possible to still travel the world and have these things, if I so choose?
Because the fact of the matter is, I hope I never settle down. I hope that I always keep my explorer’s heart and I hope I pass that on to my kids one day. I hope that I take my family on crazy adventures. And I hope I continue to take adventures of my own. I hope that I keep my fearlessness and push myself to do things I previously didn’t think was possible. I hope that I’m never done, no matter how complicated life gets or how many responsibilities I have.
It won’t be easy. But it will sure as hell be fun. Because this world is way too big and beautiful to call it quits.
And that’s why my latest tattoo quite literally represents my explorer’s heart: seven birds for seven continents reached, but always always miles to go.
When I was 15, I set a goal for myself– to reach all seven continents by the time I was 30 (because, ya know, 30 is so old). And this past June, I made it. I was 31, not 30, since some torn tendons and ligaments in my foot delayed my Antarctica trip a year and, therefore, pushed back Africa a year. But, hey, I was pretty darn close. And it was even more amazing than I had hoped.
Africa had always been at the top of my bucket list, which is why I saved it for last. I had considered many ways of experiencing Africa for the first time– a safari through Botswana, the Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, and wine country in South Africa sounded like a pretty good plan. But I knew I wanted to do something epic to commemorate my achievement of reaching all seven continents. So, instead of a luxurious glamping trip filled with food and wine, I opted for an 8 day climb of Kilimanjaro and a safari through the Serengeti with REI. And I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.
My sister Diana and I made our way to Kilimajaro Airport in early June to take on the first climb of the season on the Lemosho route. Lemosho is a popular route, famous for its beautiful views and its lengthy trek, giving you the best chance of acclimatizing and making it to the summit. And while I am an avid hiker, I was nervous about this climb. It is, after all, nearly a mile higher than any mountain in Colorado. Would I be strong enough to make it? Would I get altitude sickness? Excitement and fear swirled around within me. I didn’t want my epic seventh continent adventure to be an epic failure.
But, as we arrived on Tanzanian soil late in the evening, that fear seemed to dissipate. Instead, I was nearly in tears. This was the moment I had worked so hard for– the moment I stepped foot on my seventh continent. I had made it. I had experienced the beauty of Europe, the wonder and solitude of Antarctica, the wild of Australia, the culture of South America, the excitement of Asia, the serenity of home, and now, I was stepping foot onto the beautiful continent of Africa. For a moment, I just took it all in and forgot about the upcoming climb.
My arrival in Tanzania.
The next day, we met the rest of our group–10 amazing individuals from across the country who were also drawn to this beautiful mountain. And we met our lead guide and assistant guide: Kibacha and Omur. We received a lengthy safety briefing and they checked all of our gear. And we were so ready to get started.
The first day of the climb was quite easy and short. I think it existed simply to build our confidence. We stopped periodically in the rainforest and watched monkeys jump from tree to tree. And when we arrived at camp for the first night, we were met by 70+ (!!) porters, waiters, cooks, and assistant guides who were there to celebrate with us. We danced, we sang, and we ate like royalty. Thank youuuuu, REI.
Our crew was incredible. Every day, they ran ahead on the trail like superheroes and every night, we danced and sang together. Our home on the mountain.
As the days progressed, the hike was increasingly more difficult. We climbed high and slept low to acclimate, and stayed true to our guides words of wisdom of “pole pole” or “slowly slowly”. The days were filled with fun, laughter, labored breathing, and beauty as the landscape changed from rainforest to moorlands to alpine desert, and summit. And every night, we would congregate in the mess tent, eat wonderfully prepared food, drink peppermint tea to settle our stomachs, take our vitals, and send a lot of “emails” (the words our guides adorably used to mean “going to the bathroom”), since altitude medication seems to make you pee every 15 minutes.
My favorite day of the climb was the day of Barranco Wall. This 800′ cliff seems to go straight up and requires a bit of scrambling and fancy footwork. This, of all of the days, is the one that people seem to get most nervous about because it is the biggest obstacle to overcome other than the summit itself. But I had an absolute blast on the Wall– it felt like we were climbing through an adult jungle gym on our way to the top of the mountain. And our amazing guides seemed to effortlessly help us find our footing and make it successfully to the top.
Ants on a wall. Climbing Barranco Wall through the rain.
As we made it to basecamp at 15’980′, we were given a few hours to rest before starting our summit attempt at midnight. The winds were howling and it felt like our tents were going to blow right off the side of the mountain. Paired with our nerves, I don’t think anyone got a wink of sleep. It was below freezing and I wore several shirts, pants, socks, and gloves in order to stay warm for the hike. I looked and felt like the Michelin man.
As we started the summit climb in the middle of the night, with only headlamps at the footsteps of those in front of us to guide our way, we quickly realized that this was going to be more difficult than we had anticipated. The unusually long rainy season in Tanzania this year created three feet of snow and ice beneath our feet and prevented us from being able to stop and take breaks. Where there wasn’t ice, there was deep scree. Even the guides were not used to these conditions, but they were far more sure-footed than us. We used our trekking poles to stabilize our positions and prevent ourselves from sliding back with each step. On top of this, we had strong, cold winds blowing on our faces. As I had already come down with a terrible chest cold, the wind made it feel like I was breathing out of a tiny straw. And we had 3361′ to climb. Thankfully, Sayid, one of the assistant guides, stayed with me as I went super “pole pole” in order to catch what little breath I had, and make it to the summit at my own pace.
As I made it to the top, I saw the sun rise above the clouds and illuminate the peak and the massive glacier to the side. I saw my sister waiting for me at the summit. And I couldn’t have been happier about my decision to climb Kilimanjaro. The view was unlike anything I had ever seen– almost otherworldly. We quickly took pictures to commemorate the occasion and started on our way back down the mountain.
The sunrise from the top. The glacier. High fives! 19,341′: The Roof of Africa
But, what we didn’t know was that going down the mountain would be even more difficult than climbing up. We had already been hiking for 7+ hours, our water had frozen, and we were too high in elevation to eat anything, so we had to muster the rest of our strength to make it back to basecamp through deep scree, steep cliffs and ice. But when we made it back, we were met with smiling faces and fresh juice to refresh us. We then had two hours to rest before we had to continue down another 3500′ in order to make it to a safe altitude.
As we finished the climb and made our way off of Kilimanjaro, I was struck by how profound this experience had been. I had pushed myself to do more than I thought possible. I made new friends with incredible people. I saw stunning landscapes that seemed to come out of a storybook. And I stood on the Roof of Africa looking over a beautiful country full of beautiful people.
I truly couldn’t have picked a better way to commemorate my seventh continent. Kilimanjaro, you are in my heart forever.
The whole crew celebrating on the way down the mountain. Kilimanjaro beers to celebrate!
In all of my travels, I’ve found one thing to be true: if you travel for nature, it will nurture your soul. And lately, I’m feeling well nurtured.
You see, last weekend I went to REI Outessa. If you don’t know what that is, it’s what I would describe as adventure camp for women: camping, hiking, rock climbing, kayaking, mountain biking, etc. All the things I love or would love to do, if only I knew how (Except for mountain biking. That shit freaks me out.) And based on the sage advice of a stranger who had traveled the world, I not only signed up for this little excursion, I decided to go it alone.
Now, I get it. It’s not as though I traveled to Botswana on my own (although, maybe someday?!). It was in the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountains. But it still meant that I would be spending 3 1/2 days on my own, doing a bunch of things I don’t know how to do, in front of a bunch of badass women who didn’t know me, in a place I had never been, and at an altitude that would make physical exertion a bit tricky. Intimidating? I think, yes.
But it wasn’t.
Because on my drive in from the Reno airport, you know what I saw? The mountains. And the mountains were why I went in the first place. The mountains both make me feel like I’m at home and intimidate the crap out of me. And I find that to be the perfect balance of life. So whatever else this weekend was going to throw at me, it didn’t matter. Because I was there for the mountains.
And the mountains were there for me.
The mountains became my literal home. I camped on the bunny hill of the mountain resort. The darkness, the stars, the sounds, the breezes, and, yes, even the bugs became part of my home. And although I discovered that camping on a slope is the WORST, I figured out how to adjust and kept that beautiful spot.
I was one of the first ones there to set up camp
So proud of myself 🙂
The mountains became my playground. I climbed rocks, hiked steep (STEEP) paths, and kayaked and stand-up paddle boarded through its lakes. I cut my arm, bruised my legs and fell at least twice. And while doing that on the streets of Chicago would have me cussing under my breath (or a bit louder, depending on the situation), somehow there, I wanted to thank the mountains for giving me battle scars that proved my hard work.
After my first big hike
Climbing the “chimney”
The mountains became my source of inspiration and rejuvenation. There is nothing like waking up in the morning and seeing the sun rise over the mountains. Or eating dinner with a view of them. I mean, c’mon. Just look at them. My mood was lifted 1242432432% just sitting there, not moving a muscle. Honestly, my mood is lifted right now just looking at the pictures.
Dinner Saturday night was insane. Look at that view!
And while I learned serious outdoor and survival skills while I was with the REI crew and met some of the most incredible, badass ladies I could have imagined, that’s not why I went. I went because the mountains were calling.
I needed to stop staring at my computer screen for a minute. I needed to see that my issues are largely insignificant in the grander scheme. I needed to feel challenged and scared and outside of my comfort zone. I needed to feel strong. And I needed to realize that I too was actually one of the badass ladies on this trip.
The famous wilderness preservation advocate, John Muir, once said “The mountains are calling and I must go.” And no quote has ever spoken more to me. The mountains are why I went on this trip and so many others. And it’s why I decided to pick up my entire life and move to Colorado later this week. I started paying attention to the mountains. And I must go.
So whether the mountains, the beach, the river, the woods, the desert, the rain forest, the sea, or anything else calls for you, pick it up and just go. Trust me, it’s always worth it.
“I’m sure you’ve been in some scary situations when you’ve traveled. Even been made uncomfortable. Travel can’t be all rainbows and sunshine, right? Haven’t you regretted going to some of the places you’ve been?”
This is what my grandmother’s very inquisitive friend asked me a few weeks ago as I was visiting her assisted living facility.
How did we get to this point? Well, you see, my grandma is 95 years old and a social butterfly. And every time I visit, she introduces me to a new friend. But this time was different. This time I had just gotten back from Antarctica. So this time she stopped every person she saw and introduced me by saying, “This is my granddaughter who just got back from Antarctica. Isn’t that neat?”. (OMG, swoon).
Most people nodded along. Some people were surprised that you could actually go to Antarctica. But one woman in particular had a lot of questions. Not so much about Antarctica, but mainly about fears and regrets about traveling. This seemed odd. But, to be fair, yes, I have been in some scary situations while traveling. Yes, I’ve for sure been made uncomfortable. And yes, I guess travel isn’t always rainbows and sunshine (here’s looking at you jet lag and flight cancelations). But I was thrown by her question on regret. It was never something that had crossed my mind.
So I quickly scanned through some of my more unsavory travel experiences: when I was very embarrassingly scammed out of $250 in Shanghai, when I was consistently stared and gawked at in Mumbai, when I was pick pocketed in Beijing…by a 5 year old, and when I was briefly worried that my parents had been kidnapped in Quito (luckily, it was just a silly miscommunication).
But the answer couldn’t possibly be anything other than “No way”.
Why would I think about being scammed in Shanghai when what I remember most is the first time I walked along the famous Bund? Why would I give a second thought to the gawking in Mumbai when I was also amazingly invited to be an honored guest at a local cricket match? And why oh why would I care that a needy five year old pick pocketed me for $100 when I had just climbed the Great Wall of China?
So the answer was clear. No. I absolutely do not and could not regret going to a single place I’ve been. Each place has helped me grow, become more savvy, become more empathetic and become a better person.
Ah, it all seemed so poetic.
But wait, what also became clear is that I did, in fact, have some other types of travel regrets. Ones that only rose to the surface after sitting on it for a bit. Dammit. Regrets like:
Constantly working while I was on vacation in London. Wasn’t the Tate Modern amazing? Nah, just a blur of shapes and whatever other reflections I could see off of my phone.
Buying that effing Crate & Barrel couch for $4000 that I “just had to have”instead of spending that money on a trip to Iceland or Switzerland or Brazil or anywhere… The couch is uncomfortable by the way. I’d rather have a bean bag chair and memories from one of those countries.
Not going sledging in New Zealand. You know, sledging? Basically, white water rafting without the raft? I had it all scheduled, but the weather was bad. I likely could have pushed to do it, but I chickened out. Lame.
Not planning anything over Memorial Day or Labor Day weekends.I get 4 days off each. 4 days! Do you know where you can get to in 4 days? Yet I have two long weekends in recent memory where I basically only binge watched TV and barely even changed my clothes. Yes, sometimes that’s needed. But it’s definitely not needed more than a weekend getaway.
Not saving enough money. I eat out for lunch almost every weekday. That’s $200 per month or $1200 just on lunches. If I could get my act together, I could go on a whole other trip by just making my own damn lunch. Blargh.
And the list goes on…
Well, it turns out that I do have travel regrets. I regret the places I haven’t yet been able to go, not the places I have already been. And all I can do is try to shrink that list by spending less time and money on the things that pull me away from travel and spending more on the things that lead me to it. It won’t be perfect. It will be uncomfortable. But it will also be a wonderful experience that will continue to shape who I am.
As I left my grandma that day, she said “Honey, you’re living the life I should have led. I’m seeing the world through your eyes.” Well, Grams, I hope to show you as much as possible of it. And to live a life of few regrets.
It’s officially springtime! And while spring marks the beginning of many wonderful things (March Madness, warmer temps, blooming flowers, rooftop bars, etc.), the most wonderful thing it marks is prime season for many National Parks.
I mean, c’mon, our country is full of some mind-blowing National Parks: the Grand Canyon to the Grand Tetons, the Great Basin to the Great Smoky Mountains, Crater Lake to Lake Clark. And after another record-setting year of 325 million visitors, the Parks are gaining even more attention these days (#Badasslands, anyone?). But there’s one hidden gem you won’t hear much about– one National Park that flies so far under the radar that fewer people visit it in one year than visit Yosemite in one day. It’s not because it lacks in beauty or splendor. It’s just because it’s so damn hard to get to and to get around. But trust me, it’s worth the trek.
Here’s why Isle Royale should be your next National Park:
1. The Quiet
One of the biggest draws of our National Parks is that you can experience nature at its finest: sprawling mountains, rolling hills, and wildlife in their natural habitats. But sometimes the line of cars and tens of thousands of other people talking and hiking next to you can, well… detract from the “natural” experience.
Isle Royale, on the other hand, remains seemingly untouched. As an island in the middle of Lake Superior, Isle Royale can only be reached by boat or seaplane from Michigan and Minnesota. And the only way to get around the 893 square mile island is by foot or by canoe. No cars. No hotels. No blaring music. No large groups of people. No cell phone service. No wifi.
Just you, your friends, and nature’s wonders.
That alone was enough for me to sign up. But wait, there’s more…
2. The Adventure
It’s a fact: a trip to Isle Royale is built on adventure.
Once you’re dropped off on the island, you’re there until your boat or seaplane is scheduled to return (typically 4 – 6 days later). And save for a small lodge on the East side of the island, there are very few amenities anywhere, unless you count any of the following: a few campsites, outhouses, a wall of drawings outlining which berries are safe to eat, and a warning that you are not allowed to build fires on the island.
Once you arrive, you will hike on any number of “well-marked” trails that will push you to climb large hills, walk through miles of tall grasses, balance on flimsy wooden boards and tree roots, and navigate around swamps. And, if you’re anything like me, you’ll get lost once or twice as you try to make it to your next campsite before sundown.
You’ll have to filter the water you collect in order to drink it. You’ll get hit by weather. And the only items you’ll have are the ones you’re carrying on your back.
Do you smell an adventure? I think so.
Sure, to some, this can seem scary and maybe even crazy. You may be asking yourself, “Why would you subject yourself to this kind of torture?”. But I think the better question to ask is “How often do you really go all-in on something to see what you’re made of?”.
Not enough? Keep going.
3. The Beauty
I was genuinely surprised by how beautiful and diverse the landscape was across this island. The soft tides of inner lakes lulled us to sleep at our campsites. The huge trees of the forests seemed to go on for days. The stars were so clear, I felt like we could touch them. And the tall grasses were….super tall…and so obnoxious as they whipped across our faces for hours on end.
But, really, that’s the point.
At Isle Royale, you don’t just observe nature, you’re in nature. It’s not about you. It’s about experiencing and preserving the beauty of this incredible island, obnoxious tall grasses and all. And you truly begin to appreciate its beauty in big and small ways.
Take the smallest of its amazing beauties: the thimbleberry. Similar to a raspberry in shape and color, they have a sweetness that rivals that of cheesecake. So, much to Matt’s dismay, I stopped and ate those berries all along the trails. And I can say with certainty that every stop was worth it.
A larger beauty is the moose that wander across the island. There are thousands that inhabit the island and on my last day, I was lucky enough to have six or seven run right past my tent on their way to a nearby lake. I sat and watched them for hours as they cooled off in the water and relaxed.
What’s better than a beautiful locale?
4. The Achievement
It’s impossible to not feel a sense of achievement when you complete your time on Isle Royale.
I mean, after hiking 50+ miles with 40+ pounds on my back, sleeping for five nights in a tent, living on MREs and thimbleberries, filtering my water to avoid getting parasites, and having no connection to the outside world, I felt fairly accomplished.
But it wasn’t just because I had conquered my fears and gone outside of my comfort zone. (My biggest concern prior to this trip was why the hell I needed to buy a trowel and what it was supposed to be used for.) It was also because I felt incredibly lucky to be able to see something so awe-inspiring. To experience a place so full of wonder and beauty that I didn’t miss my cell phone or my comforts of home. To do something that felt bigger than myself.
So when, at the end of the trail, we discovered a tiny store that sold popsicles, wine and a few souvenirs (OMG! A hidden gem!), Matt and I dug in to celebrate. We had just achieved something great. And I hope you will too.
Isle Royale opens on April 16. Take a chance and book the trip. And let me know how you enjoy it.
“I’ve traveled to 98 countries in my life and I still hope to see many more.” It was this sentence spoken three years ago by a 75-year-old German woman that made me break my golden rule of business travel: never ever make eye contact with or talk to the person sitting next to you.
Let me back up. I’ve had far too many bad experiences on planes while traveling for work. I apparently have the opposite of “resting bitch face”, also known as “please tell me your life story even if I have headphones on while intensely working on my laptop face”. And since I travel for work at least every other week, I rely on my precious plane time to get said work done. So I devised a plan to avoid having conversations on planes: don’t look at the person sitting next to me, turn my body away, wear headphones, and get shit done.
But on this particular day, sitting next to this particular woman, I couldn’t help but be intrigued even before she said a thing. She just looked like someone who had seen things and had experienced life. So, against my better judgement, I asked where she was going. And within 15 minutes, she casually mentioned that she had traveled to 98 countries. From that point, I just knew I wasn’t getting any work done on that flight. Nor did I care. I had to get all of the details.
She told me about road tripping down the eastern coast of Africa with her girlfriends when she was in her 30s. She told me about going to New Zealand on a shoestring budget with her husband for their one year anniversary. She told me about traveling through India on her own as a young woman. She told me how she had always prioritized travel and that her meager salary was never an issue. She was fearless. She was humble. She was inspiring.
After her stories, I asked if she could offer any advice to a young woman also full of wanderlust. I didn’t know what I was expecting– maybe some practical advice on how to save money or a recommendation of a few must-see places on her list. But what I damn well wasn’t expecting was a profound piece of advice that would impact my entire perspective of both travel and life. Here’s what she said:
“If I may be so bold as to give you some advice, I would tell you to take three trips every year. There can be no excuses. No trip can be too big or too small. But you must take three trips a year.
One trip should be with your partner. It will strengthen your relationship to experience new things together. And will push you both to grow by getting outside of your comfort zones.
Another trip should be with your girlfriends. As you get older you tend to lose touch. You have separate lives. You have jobs. You have houses. You have babies. And you start to lose some of the bonds that originally brought you together. The key to keeping those relationships together is by having new experiences together. By getting away from daily life and remembering all of the crazy things you have in common. By creating new stories together that you can reminisce about for the next year and sustain you until your next adventure.
And finally, you should take a trip by yourself every year. It’s easy to travel in the safety of others. But you never really know who you are until you experience the wonders of this world on your own. You never truly take in the landscape the same way. You never really stop worrying about if everyone else is having a good time and just focus on what you want. You will never truly be able to break out of your shell until you have created a bond with a perfect stranger in a place you are unfamiliar.
If you take these three trips every year, you will have stronger relationships with everyone you care about, including yourself. And you will see the world for the beauty it holds, not just the darkness.”
Needless to say, my mind was blown. The advice was so simple, yet it spoke to me. It seemed to both fill me up and throw me for a loop. And as someone who is rarely, if ever, at a loss for words, I was actually speechless. I fumbled my words, said “thank you”, and shook her hand as we left. And throughout all of this, I forgot to even ask her name (gah, I’m such a n00b).
But since that day, I’ve thought a lot about that advice. And while I haven’t been perfect in living it, I am now ready to take on her first challenge of “No excuses”.
This year, I will take all three trips and document my experience:
One trip with my partner:I think Matt and I nailed that one with Antarctica. High fives.
One trip with my girlfriends: A bachelorette party weekend at the Bourbon Trail is on the horizon for April. Woot.
One trip by myself: This one is tricky business and I’m excited for the challenge. The only times I’ve traveled by myself have been for work… and that just doesn’t count. I’m planning to do this in the late summer or early fall. Any recommendations? I’d love them.
So, here’s to a year of adventure and strengthened relationships, with all of the messiness, mix-ups, life lessons and ridiculousness that it includes. And, through it, hopefully I will do myself and my wise German friend proud.
What about you? Do you subscribe to this advice yourself? Other words of travel wisdom to live by?
In case you didn’t know, I’m on a mission to reach all 7 continents.
While I could gush for hours about each one I’ve been lucky enough to visit, I most recently made it to Antarctica and it holds a very special place in my heart (and a special hole in my bank account). Some of you crazy folks may also have this spot on your list while others who are more sane may be asking yourselves, “Wait, you can visit Antarctica? What is there to do there? Where do you stay? Why would you go?” Regardless of which group you’re in, this countdown to the 6 most badass things about Antarctica should give you a good perspective about why it I think it’s so….well, badass.
The 6 Most Badass Things About Antarctica
6. The wildlife.
This probably seems like the most obvious point because people generally know that penguins live in Antarctica. And penguins are arguably one of the most adorable creatures alive (albeit also one of the smelliest). See evidence below:
Chinstraps at the ready.
Waddle this way.
Cuddling penguins.
However, the wildlife was actually one of the most surprising things throughout the trip.
First, the penguins. I was lucky enough to hang out with two types: the cute and playful gentoo that nipped at my pants and ran between my legs and the chinstrap that always looked ready for a wrestling match. It’s just a fact that walking around with penguins never gets old.
Beyond the penguins, I was able to see leopard seals, crabeater seals (fun fact– they don’t eat crabs…), weddell seals, fur seals (another fun fact- fur seals are actually sea lions, not seals…who names all of these species?!), all sorts of birds and more than my fair share of humpback whales. But more than just seeing these animals at a distance, I felt like I was experiencing the world with them. Not behind bars. Not in a controlled environment. I was on their turf and had to abide by their rules. In fact, I was chased by a fur seal after forgetting everything about my safety briefing. I was hissed at by a crabeater seal. I saw two humpback whales leap out of the water in the wild like you only see on a Mac screensaver. And I saw penguins “porpoise” through the water with ease right next to our ship. It was truly wildlife at its finest.
Nature, no holds barred.
5. The scale and the indescribable beauty.
When you’re in Antarctica, you feel like you’re on an entirely different planet. There is no frame of reference and nothing that quite prepares you for the vastness of…well, everything. Mountains are everywhere. The icebergs are as tall as skyscrapers. The clouds are so low you feel like you can touch them. It was as if the world had combined the beauty of Heaven as depicted in What Dreams May Come and the whimsy of a Dr. Seuss book.
A beautiful haze.
Our ship amidst the ice.
The changing landscape.
And as if Antarctica wasn’t showing off enough, one night the sky was so clear we not only saw the Southern Cross in all of its glory, but the entire Milky Way Galaxy.
4. The people.
When I was planning my Antarctic adventure, I thought I had considered everything: the ship, the safety, the landings, the gear, etc. etc. But what I hadn’t considered was that there would be 82(ish) fascinating people on this voyage with me.
The passengers hailed from all over the world. Ages ranged from 17 – 88. Occupations ranged from firefighters to retired Federal Judges. But everyone had their own reason to spend their time and their money on a ship that “wasn’t made for comfort” to get to a place with no hotels, no restaurants and no standard entertainment.
Take Ted, for example. At 85 years old, he came solo from the States. He brought 30 disposable cameras to capture the experience (swoon) and wasn’t going to miss a thing– he climbed to the top of glaciers right beside us, offered me binoculars so I could better see the Milky Way and told stories of his life of travel. I was lucky enough to meet 82 people as cool as Ted.
So while I didn’t intend on sharing this voyage with so many others, it made it a richer and more wonderful experience, creating friendships and inspiring my future travels.
A group of explorers celebrating with champagne.
3. The Drake Passage.
It’s a common saying that you have to “earn” Antarctica. And there are fewer things in life I love more than a good challenge. The main way you earn it is by crossing the treacherous waters of the Drake Passage*. Notoriously known as the roughest seas in the world, conditions can change on a dime and waves can get a bit out of hand.
While we were lucky enough on the way to Antarctica to get the “Drake Lake”, it turned out that our ship didn’t have what’s called a stabilizer, or ya know, the thing that keeps your ship from rocking all over the place. Even more, on the way back, we had to outrun an off-scale hurricane, bringing us to a level of sea roughness called the “Drake Shake”. This was when showering became an olympic sport and the ship doctor started passing out sea sickness medication at meals like she was offering Holy Communion.
The weather forecast of our missed hurricane on the way back from Antarctica.
*Another way you “earn” Antarctica is by doing the polar plunge. And thanks to the encouragement from a few folks onboard the ship (see #4 above), that challenge was accepted and aced.
2. The ice.
When we first got on the ship, one of our expedition staff members introduced himself as the “ice expert.” I kept thinking… “Ummm…How does one become an ice expert? Water freezes at 32°F, yeah? What more is there to know?” However, The minute I saw my first iceberg, I understood what an idiot I had been.
It turns out that I took more than 450 photos of ice. Just ice! Before the trip, I would have thought that was crazy. But now I see each piece of ice like its own beautiful work of art to never be recreated or seen again in quite the same way.
1. The silence.
One of the most startling things about visiting Antarctica was the pure silence of visiting it. And I don’t just mean because there are no cities, crowds of people, gobs of cars, etc. I also mean that there is no (reliable) internet connection, no cell phone service, no true connection to the “real” world. And I’ll tell ya what, the world truly becomes a “real” place the further you get from the “real” world. You start talking to people. Actual people. Like the people in front of you. You begin letting your mind wander. Do you remember the last time you just imagined things? Thought broadly about your future? Took in a landscape for hours just because it was that fucking beautiful? No? Neither had I. Until I got past the noise of daily life and took in the beauty of silence. And with all of its grandeur, it’s the respect that Antarctica deserves.
Today I got my second travel tattoo and I’m pretty stoked about it. I always told myself that if something truly leaves a mark on my soul, I’ll have it leave a mark on my body as well. And from a young age, I knew that thing was travel. That was never any question. But knowing what specific tattoo to get was a whole other issue. I wasn’t going to force it or rush it– I just figured when the time was right, something would hit me.
Then, shortly before my 27th birthday, I was mindlessly doodling and realized that you can spell “wanderlust” using the cardinal directions (WaNdErluSt). And BAM! I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had never seen something that better described the feeling that I had each and every day of my life. And so, I walked into a tattoo shop and got my first ink.
Now, fast forward 3 1/2 years to today. Today’s tattoo is extra special to me because it’s based on an achievement– something I’ve been saving for, planning for and thinking about for basically my whole life. It marks my crossing of both the Arctic and the Antarctic circles: 66° 33’ N and 66° 33’ S.
So what’s so special about those two circles? Well, outside of all of the fascinating scientific things that those circles signify, these are also the lines that signify the northernmost and southernmost parts of the planet. In short, by crossing it, I have made it to both ends of the Earth. And I was lucky enough to experience both in just one year’s time. Both circles were difficult to get to (although Antarctica for sure takes the cake on that one) and each offers something so special and unique to this world.
Please ignore the marks from my bandage, the puffiness, the shininess from the Aquaphor, etc.😜
The Arctic
I crossed the Arctic Circle in Alaska in February 2016. Matt (my loving bf who loves to travel with me) and I hired an ex-ice road trucker to drive us 5 hours north on the Dalton Highway, aka the “Ice Road Trucking Route”, from Fairbanks to the Arctic Circle. We got there around 11PM and took turns outside taking in the bright Northern Lights and the incredible silence that only comes when you are so far from “civilization”.
The Antarctic
I crossed the Antarctic Circle this past February with Matt aboard the M/V Ushuaia in the Bellingshausen Sea, just west of Antarctica. It took us 6 days by ship from Ushuaia, Argentina to get there. And when I looked outside, I felt as though I had escaped this world and had found myself on a new planet. Icebergs were larger than sky scrapers, whales were abundant and mountains took up the entire continental landscape. I’ve never had my breath taken away in quite that same way.
Where I Go from Here
Two tattoos down, one for sure still to go when I hit my 7th continent, Africa.
