There always seems to be a letdown after an
adventure. In most cases, the air in the
balloon begins to escape before the end of the journey. Such is the case in my trip to Antarctica. That deflated feeling begins to creep into
the final days and hours as I anticipate the dream, converted to an experience,
become a memory.
It took 7 years for the idea of going to Antarctica to
become a reality. It was conceived in
the waning moments of the trip I took with my dear friend, Carson Pue, around
the world in 2012. We were in New
Zealand, the end of the trip and splitting up to travel different directions
after together. We had visited 17
countries, experiencing more adventures than we could count. We found ourselves asking, “What’s
next?” We had visited all seven
continents except one, so it seemed logical to answer that question with
”Antarctica”, despite knowing nothing about what was involved nor having any
appreciation for what challenges would become part of our lives in the
following years. I won’t recount the
circumstances, except to say it has been a difficult series of events since we
naively agreed that the next big adventure would be Antarctica.
Now, the journey to Antarctica is over, as well as our
visit to Buenos Aries, Ushuaia and Puerto Madryn, all in Argentina, the
Falkland Islands (under Great Britain’s flag) and Montevideo, Uruguay. Our venture to the last continent, the most
southerly place we will ever experience, is behind us. The memories of this extraordinary expedition
are already indelibly etched by the synapses into our minds (if that is what
synapses do, physiologically speaking). We
are not likely to forget being bundled in layers of clothes to stand on deck
staring in disbelief at the brilliant white and blue icebergs, and the
countless glaciers with sheer faces intersecting the frigid waters. There were innumerable sightings of playful
penguins racing our ship as well as too many whale sightings to recall. Though uninhabited by humans, other than the
few itinerant occupants of small scientific stations scattered around the
perimeters of this frozen continent, it is much bigger than I ever imagined
(5.5 million square miles, 14.4 million square kilometers – the size of the
continental USA and Mexico combined and 1.5 times larger than Canada). It is difficult to believe that, while much
of the earth’s surface has been occupied, or at least discovered, for
millennia, Antarctica was only discovered in 1820, a mere 200 years ago, and is
far from being fully explored.
Still, despite my age and decreasing mobility, energy and
time, I find myself searching my bucket list for the next adventure; asking the
same question, “What’s next? Because it
is never too soon to plan the next adventure.
I have learned something about adventures over the years.
They represent more of an attitude than an action or activity. They are not so
much an idea as the experience realized when circumstances dictate or provide
opportunity. It doesn’t take a trip to Antarctica to have an adventure. But it
does take a willingness to engage and embrace uncertainty and risk, to step
outside of the comfort zone we so readily occupy. The recipe for adventure needs
a dash of courage, a sprinkle of faith, and a measure of patience as one waits
for the unique taste of significance to fill one’s senses.
Whether challenging the unfamiliar elements, grappling
with fear, disease, failure, loss or insecurity, when an adventure reaches the
time when it’s almost over, or there is a new chapter, there are three things
to do. First, plant the memories in your
garden of adventures, where you can stroll through the variegated colors, moods,
characters, significance and impact. I need
to remember the things I learned along the way, not just ‘move on’. Second, do not let melancholy, disappointment
or resentment taint the final hours or days.
Drink it to completion. I am
often prone to miss the special or surprising endings waiting for me unless I am
looking for them. Third, begin in
earnest to imagine the next adventure before the current one is fully spent. Big or small, commit yourself to live on
purpose, embrace the known and unknown. Dream
again. Plan again.
We are made for adventure.
Posts
