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’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?
