I’m sitting at Ristorante Pantuso, “Grand Junction’s finest
Italian, est. 1958.” I took a walk
around the restaurant, wondering if any of these people are on my Outward Bound
trip that starts tomorrow. I could probe
and find out, but right now I want to reflect.
Tomorrow I will do this. From spending exactly three nights camping in
my entire life to spending 9 days hiking, camping, canyoneering, and
bouldering… this will be a new adventure.
I signed up for this trip a few months ago with some pretty simple
intentions: learn how to camp, visit the Southwest (an area I’ve never been to,
and have been craving). Above all, I
wanted an adventure. Honestly I only
have a vague notion of what “canyoneering” is.
I’ve been telling people that it’s like the movie 127 Hours with James
Franco where he gets trapped by himself in a slot canyon and has to cut his arm
off. Turns out that’s exactly where I’m
going – to the area where that movie was
filmed. I wasn’t going to bring a knife,
but before I left this morning I thought “hm, what IF I get stuck and have to
saw off my hand. Better bring a
knife.” So I did – and paid the $35
baggage fee for the privilege.
I woke up this morning feeling nervous. In the weeks leading up to today, my life has
revolved around getting the right gear, which has been one massive pain. I think I’ve made – no joke – about 10 trips
to Sports Basement and REI to try on boots, find the right long underwear, etc. Half of those visits could have been avoided
by some swift decision-making on my part.
I’m very ready to actually use this gear I bought instead of having
serious buyer’s remorse about all the expensive new things I now own. So… I was nervous this morning. Partly because I still haven’t shaken a head
cold from a week ago, and I don’t want to start off hiking tomorrow being
sick. But the other part… I guess I was
nervous about the unknown. Namely, what
the hell is canyoneering???
I worked all day while flying from SFO to DEN to Grand
Junction, but once I touched down, felt the 90-degree dry 6:00pm heat, and
chatted up the shuttle driver, it all came back. Waiting outside of the airport in Grand
Junction, I looked around, smiled to myself, and remembered why I’m here, and why
I seek these types of adventures: the rush of meeting new people from all over,
of seeing brand new terrain like the ridiculous rock formations surrounding
Grand Junction, the feeling of freedom and newness mixed with anticipation,
nerves and excitement. I very much feel
alive in these moments. I feel bold, but
also vulnerable to what the next moment might bring – undoubtedly something
unknown, but something to be anticipated.
It’s simply a rush.
I’ve recently been asking myself some big questions – more than
usual. Life has blessed me with a number
of opportunities, friends, and experiences.
But still I’m asking myself what
is it all about? I am under no
illusion that 10 days in the desert will answer these questions. Yes, at my core I crave an epiphany –
whenever or wherever it may come in life.
Those older than I have told me that this epiphany might not exist. Rather, I should live in the moment and
appreciate the journey. I agree with
this sentiment – very much so. The
journey is beautiful, and it’s real. I
remember my favorite reading in high school was Thornton Wilder’s Old Town, which was about the little
things in life – small town life – that make life worth living. My dream evening would be to walk down the
driveway of my grandparents’ house in rural Tennessee on a summer evening and
just listen to what’s around. Yes, I want
to live in the moment. But that still
doesn’t stop from wanting a big epiphany, and I’m probably not alone in that
sentiment. But I digress…
So, this is the state of mind in which I’ll disconnect from
the world tomorrow. There are many, many
things to look forward to over the next 10 days. Getting to know a (hopefully) diverse group
of people is high on the list. But I
think the thing I’m looking forward to the most is to experience – to be a part
of the sublimity (and beauty!) of nature.
I want to feel small in the face of unconquerable canyons. I want to really FEEL this.
Walking in the desert, I imagine there will be long periods
of silence. What will I think
about? Hopefully nothing, except to feel
and be part of what’s around me. Just to
stop all the thoughts in my mind… THAT is what I really want. I have no idea how to do this, but I hope it
comes to me.
Plus I just really want to sleep outdoors.
Perhaps I’m idealizing what will happen, but I remember
feeling something similar when I hiked in Brazil last summer. Which reminds me, here are a few old blog
posts I’ve made at the beginning of previous adventures:
Before leaving for Europe, pre-business school (and first blog post ever)
Thoughts on Brazil hiking, lessons of appreciation
Ok, it’s time to turn off my computer and truly
disconnect. I just downed a whole bunch
of Italian food, and just ordered a big tiramisu because hey… I’m going to burn
off every calorie anyways. Why not
indulge?
One last thing… I brought the book Into the Wild on the trip
with me. It’s my first attempt at
reading a book twice. The book blew me
away the first time I read it, and really described how nature always
wins. I remember feeling a sense of awe
for nature after reading the book, which I think is close to what I’ll feel
this week (maybe!). Anyway, I leave you
with a quote from Tolstoy via Into the Wild that resonated with me. Perhaps I'll feel this after advenduring is over.
"I have lived through much , and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor-such is my idea of happiness." - Tolstoy
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