Category: Philosophy

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Adventure Philosophy

It’s All Relative

The following is a guest post from Emma at Gotta Keep Movin’. She writes about that age old question of what an adventure is. My view on this is unreliable and changes more than a regularly rotated hourglass, so it’s nice to read that Emma has a way more solid approach.

Anyway, it can be easy to get drowned in a sea of supposed-meanings, and to fall into the trap of thinking too much about ‘what people will think’ or ‘how does this stack up to someone else?’. Those concerns in many areas of life can be toxic.

So there’s a primer. Take it away, pal!

– – –

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Let’s Stop Trying to Define Adventure: It’s All Relative Emotion

I read travel journalism on an almost daily basis, and lately I can’t help but notice the influx of snobbery. While there are a whole host of ways in which this affliction rears its ugly head, it’s rating the validity of adventure that I find the most tedious. Fueling the increasingly competitive nature of travel, words like ‘true’, ‘meaningful’, or ‘real’ are applied to adventure, often referring to more physically demanding expeditions, traversing of uncharted lands, or the never-been-done-befores. This neatly stacks travel experiences into stiff umbrella categories of ‘more’ or ‘less’ adventurous. If you’re not near the lofty heights of daring adventure, you’re swiftly discarded onto the pile of mediocre travellers, excluded from the elite super-club of nomads who are obviously doing a much better job of travelling than you are.

The word ‘adventure’ has been traditionally defined, in the literal sense of the word, as something that gives a sense of thrill, something that involves an element of risk, or an activity one feels to be exciting. With the way we’re presently talking about adventure, it’s as if these have been put on a ladder — my thrill is better than your thrill, my risk is larger (and therefore more valuable) than your risk.

Since when were these emotions measurable and ordered into better or worse, admirable or laughable?

Why have we put adventure on a scale?

My firm belief is this: adventure is a horizontal spectrum, not a vertical hierarchy. It doesn’t fall into a single category, or risk level, or thrill factor, and it certainly doesn’t have winners or losers. Adventure is an infinite variety of emotions and reactions, something that is sparked off in each of us in many different ways. Like the beauty in everything else that makes us unique as human beings, there is something to be celebrated in the fact that each of our senses of adventure is personal and individual.

For some, it’s the intrepid feeling of stepping into new places, the unknown and obscure. For others, it’s a change in routine, not necessarily related to moving far from home but more a sense of any activity out of the ordinary. It can be what makes you happy, or what terrifies you. And yes, some people find it in challenging their minds and bodies under the most testing conditions on Earth. Our stereotyped view of adventure is still valid, of course, but it stands shoulder to shoulder with so many more, blending in with some and opposing others.

For me, the important part is the emotion rather than the activity. The only length I would go to in order to define it, if I had to say it was anything, would be this; adventure is something that makes you (personally you) feel adventurous.

As travel journalists speaking about adventure, it’s our responsibility to avoid exclusivity. Adventure needs to be accessible, and if we continue to pin it to levels of more or less, better or worse, we’re in grave danger of alienating the people we’re trying to reach. Our mission is to inspire, not impose — and we’re teetering dangerously on the edge of imposing a definition of the activities that are counted as adventures, thus belittling and excluding any other way of travel that sits outside of them. With our constant need to push and push at more extreme ways to travel, traditional means seem to become less valid, a fact that saddens me and could easily dishearten many future travellers.

It’s time to encourage a new way of looking at adventure, a way where legitimacy or authenticity don’t come into it. In fact, a way that has no concrete definition at all. It’s not okay to tell someone else how to enjoy the things they love in any other aspect of life, so it’s also not okay to tell someone how to adventure. It is about feeling thrilled, excited, a little scared but nevertheless exhilarated, or whatever other emotion that leads you to one thing — it is about feeling adventurous.

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Emma Higgins is a travel writer from the UK with a penchant for people. Wandering the globe for 4 years and counting, she’s found value in travel by talking to people and seeking out individual stories, as well as venturing through our planet’s most incredible spaces. Her website, Gotta Keep Movin’, documents the tales she’s collected on the way, and her Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter offer more snippets from her life of travel. Most days, you will find her with a cup of coffee in one hand, and a pen in the other. 

Categories
Philosophy

Everybody panic! There’s nothing we can do!

At this very moment, no-one can control the weather, or the passing of time, or an asteroid that’s heading straight for us that our telescopes haven’t seen yet. No-one can control a shoe in mid-air that’s flying towards our head. Not me, you, us, them or we. No-one.

There’s a massive list of stuff that none of us can do anything about.

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Here’s a fruity metaphor. In 1915, in the jungle that was no-mans land between Honduras and Guatemala, there was a guy called “Sam the Banana Man”. What a nickname. He was there attempting to start a fruit business.

The established fruit corporations of the time didn’t like this much, especially a huge company called United Fruits. They weren’t worried though, because, after all, they were a corporation. This guy, this Banana Man, he was just a person. One person surely couldn’t threaten an entire corporation.

United sent their lawyers to the jungle but in the end, instead of some fancy legal techniques, they decided to just bribe the local government and make building bridges across the river illegal. What good are a whole bunch of bananas if you can’t get them across the river?

So that was it. No more concerns for United because they had paid enough money to make sure Banana Man couldn’t build a bridge to flog his bananas. [Yes, yes, I’m not mentioning the horrible parts of the story about local exploitation, eventual hyper-capitalism etc – we’re in metaphor mode remember?]

Bridges. No bridges.

“OK, that’s fine. Let’s figure this out”, thought Sam the Banana Man. “I can’t build a bridge but no-one said anything about building two very long piers at either side of the river.” So he did. He got a team to build two massive piers, and then whenever he wanted to take the fruit across the river, he used some fancy rope-based contraption to join the piers and provide safe passage over the water for all the bananas.

When the bribed government saw the fruit and questioned him, he smiled and said, “Why, that’s no bridge. It’s just a couple of little old wharfs”, and carried on with his life.

We might not be able to control a government being paid-off to make bridge-building illegal, but we sure as hell can control our reaction.

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So,

  • George can’t control the weather, but he can wear a raincoat, go to the fields, and realise that all this rainfall is helping the crops grow.
  • Shannon can’t control the passing of time but she can make sure that she remembers to prioritise the things she views as the most important way to spend that time.
  • Wynona can’t even see the asteroid, let alone stop it, but she can go to the lab and keep tinkering away on her new invention, Wynona’s Anti-Asteroid Gun, because that’s what makes her excited.
  • Pete can’t stop someone throwing a shoe on stage whilst he’s doing a new standup routine, but he can duck and avoid it like a ninja, then make a joke out of it, and leave feeling the buzz of an impromptu, unscripted joke that went down well, and then do another gig tomorrow.   

There’s countless things that are uncontrollable. Thankfully, how we respond to those things and frame them internally is not on that list, and never will be. That’s something I always forget and need to remember. 

Categories
Adventure Interviews Philosophy

The Value Of Grit, Trust and Time [TED Talk: Video]

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to give this talk at TEDxStormont in Belfast. It’s supposed to be called ‘The Value of Grit’ and uses stories from last years bike trip to touch on: why we should trust ourselves, why putting things off for too long is rarely sensible, and the value of elephants / grit. Yep, really. Elephants. Strange, right?

Hope that it resonates with anyone who is burned out or considering doing something new that seems scary. And hopefully the extremely nervous sweating and fast-talking isn’t too off putting. It’s now clear that I listen to way too much freestyle hip-hop.

Categories
Philosophy

Today

I don’t know if this is a good idea to write, or whether it’s insensitive and inappropriate. It’s not meant to be, but maybe only New Yorkers or US Citizens or people who were there that day can talk about this. 

Usually the specifics of a single day become less clear as time goes on, but this one is still crystal. I’d walked home from school, using a slightly different route than the regular one. At home, breaking news had taken over the channels. The first one had hit the tower a short time ago. And then the second one. That was thirteen years ago, but it doesn’t seem that long.

Just over one year ago, in July last year, as those childhood television memories had long since faded, there was a bus that pulled up into the gravelly and dusty Fairbanks parking lot. Step by step, forty or so tourists stepped off. I think they all lived in Florida now and were touring the North West. They were retired couples mostly. Despite being bleary eyed after a long journey of sitting up and trying to sleep in cramped seats, and despite the yawns and the stretches, everyone was happy, and they seemed to be enjoying the start of a long summer on their bus tour vacation. Their smiles were contagious.

As everyone got their suitcases from the metal pop-out underbelly of the bus, a man from the group came over and he looked at the bike, and then the lack of sleep on my face, and he laughed as he was feeling that tiredness too. Obvious fatigue and the bike was always a solid and reliable conversation starter, and it was always surprising how such moments, no matter how brief or fleeting, often lead to extreme openness and ultimately, feeling like a new bond had been formed. Maybe that’s weird but it’s true. 

We talked about Alaska. He was excited about being here. Excited about seeing the wildlife and the bears and the hills and getting away from it all for a bit. Just regular Alaska small talk. As small talk turned to specifics, that age old question of what we do came up and the man told me that he used to be a firefighter but had retired. He said that his entire family had been firefighters. It was in their blood. Generations upon generations. It was what they were all born to do, it was what they lived for. 

He told me that his dad had died firefighting. He said that it’s one of the saddest things to have happened to him but it’s something that any firefighter knows is a possibility when they start. During this, the man’s voice started to quiver, and his eyes began to well up. His whole family had been firefighters – he was a firefighter, his dad was, and his son had been too. The man had a thick New York accent. It’s one I love. One that can be intimidating. One that makes me laugh as it can be so blunt and unintentionally witty. Except this wasn’t funny, it was heartbreaking, and just like the laughter moments earlier was contagious, so now was the sadness.

Thirteen years ago, his son went to work in New York. He had gone into one of the towers shortly after it was hit, to try and help and do his duty. He didn’t come out again. 

We never know what’s going to happen in a minute, or an hour, or tomorrow, or next week. Sometimes we all need reminding about today.

Today is a good day to remember that people who are smiling may be in pain.

Today is a good day to remember that none of us can ever truly know what’s around the corner. 

Today is a good day to be happy and hopeful and to smile contagiously. 

Categories
Philosophy

Burnout: How To Cure It (With Lessons From Pjorn)

In my experience the stages of burnout go like this:

  1. Oh yes! I’m so excited to be starting this. Think of the possibilities!
  2. Hmmm. It’s not gaining as much traction as first hoped. But hey, life’s alright.
  3. Are these doubts going to subside? Ah forget that, let’s keep cracking on.
  4. We’re struggling, something just fell through, and I just spent all day mentally elsewhere (trying to think of every character from Sesame Street). 
  5. Shall we go to the pub for a beer and talk turnaround strategy?
  6. These blankets are so warm. I’m not getting out of bed. No. Stop it. Get up!
  7. Sorry guys I’m done. Too much stress. Can’t do this anymore.

True burnout has happened to me once. There were three of us building a company. Looking back now, it’s easy to see that by the end of it, none of us were content with what we were doing and were all on a track for the dreaded B. It was just a matter of who reached stage 7 first. 

This is not about doom and gloom though, quite the opposite. Occasionally burnout is well-needed, as there’s a few positives that happen as a result which are hard to see at the time. One positive is that taking action after becoming burnt out might lead us to seek experiences that are truly exciting and personally profound, and those experiences might lead to new things. For example, a good pal has been slowly making his way around the Pacific for over a year, working on farms, and teaching and volunteering on boats, and as a side-effect of that experience he’s now found permaculture as something that fires him up. It takes getting drained to learn about ourselves and our values sometimes.

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Another benefit of burnout is, as we now know what the signals are, they should be easier to spot and resolve in the future. Because whilst there’s a time for embracing it, there’s also a time for trying to stop it happening. 

These are the signals (IMO) that show we’re at risk of burning out:

  • If we only spend time working or sleeping, it’s bad news.
  • If we wake up and aren’t stoked more than three days in a row, it’s bad news.
  • If we convince ourselves that what we do is the be-all and end-all, it’s bad news.
  • If we struggle to generate new ideas, it’s bad news.
  • If we need a break two days after getting back from a break, it’s bad news. 
  • If we agree with stuff that we shouldn’t agree with just because we’re too drained, it’s bad news. 
  • If we start to become jaded, cynical and pessimistic, it’s bad news.

Hopefully you don’t have too many of those symptoms, but if you do, spotting them early offers the best chance of exterminating them. But how? What is the metaphorical burnout fire extinguisher? HERE is the (non-medical, ahem) CURE to burnout in one word: Fun. Play. Enjoyment. Oops that was three words.

The best thing to do to stop burnout is to take time to have fun and come back with a fresh mind and a new outlook. “Adults are just obsolete children”, said Dr. Seuss. Good one doc. See, now this post is medically proven. We can’t gain perspective when we’re ‘in it’ so the best way is to step back and play and enjoy doing something that’s completely unrelated to whatever is causing anxiety. Take a train to Hypothetiville without a phone. Strum on your ukulele. Do something that makes you laugh. Do one of those things where when you’re doing it you aren’t thinking about anything else and reach a flow-state. For Obama, putting balls on the golf course is a way of relaxing and gaining perspective. 

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Without realising it, sometimes everything can become very “serious”. A bubble of importance is created around what we do. That seems silly if we consider the benefits of “the non-serious”. Light-heartedness and fun don’t need to be justified, but we can justify them if we want as they have these side-effects: increased creativity, optimism, happiness, fascination, contentment. And those things lead to more focus and better work. So all in all smiles and fun and laughing are pretty vital. 

There’s a guy called Bjorn from Sweden, he was in a documentary that was on the other day. You probably know him but I’ll leave it as a riddle to see if you can work it out. When he was starting out, he’d go off to a cabin in the woods and write songs with the goal of becoming a pro musician. His songs became hits quickly and because of that he was able to keep going to the cabin in the woods and keep writing cheesy love songs and keep having fun doing it. Bjorn’s initial efforts paid off rapidly, which isn’t the case for most people. He was obviously skilled and had dedication, but that’s the case for lots of people. Luck played a part. 

The thing about luck is that most of the time people don’t get lucky the first time around. That’s just how probability works. Other than rare exceptions, the only way to get lucky is to stay in the game long enough so the odds of probability increase. (n.b. this is not a good approach for gambling addicts).

So because first-time luck is rare, there’s probably a single Bjorn to a thousand Pjorn’s. Who’s Pjorn? I’ve got no idea. Pjorn is just a guy chasing a dream of a creative career, building something from scratch and trying to carve a path in the world. Only at some point he will probably come face-to-face with the dreaded burnout, and he might quit and stop having fun. There’s a lot of BS out there that would now say that perhaps if Pjorn had just kept going just a little bit, he would’ve made it happen. But that might not be true. No-one other than Pjorn has a valid opinion. Pjorn is the best judge of when to give up and move on. Quitting when you become burned out is totally fine if it’s the right thing to do. Pjorn knows more than anyone when enough is enough.

The thing that Pjorn should remember – regardless of whether he’s burnt out and quits, or tries to extinguish his burnout before it becomes an issue by having fun every day – is that stuff takes time. That doesn’t mean he has to stick to doing the exact same thing for years and years if it becomes a drag. It just means he needs be flexible and willingly sign up to the long haul and trust that things take time. For people like Pjorn, the long haul is the only approach that comes with decent odds. It takes time to increase experience and skill, but probably more importantly it takes time to increase the odds. Whether those are correlated is another matter.

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Burnout doesn’t mean we need to run away entirely, although there can be benefits in doing that. It can be less dramatic, and simply a time to re-assess whether what we’re doing each day is what we really should be doing each day. No-one other than the burnt truly knows what to do.

It took a long time to move on from my burnout. There’s a horrible dark period that happens during and after it which isn’t enjoyable at all unless you actively remember to step back and have fun. But I’m grateful it happened, as whilst we can learn from stuff that’s comfortable, it’s really the uncomfortable that teaches us the lessons we won’t forget. 

I don’t want burnout to happen again any time soon, but sometimes wonder what would happen if it did. What would be the actionable result of going back to that place? Would it be an escape? Perhaps it would be a big walk with a rucksack full of ramen. It’s impossible to say. But for now, being settled, having fun, looking out for symptoms of burnout and trying to kill them, and being content in the knowledge that things take time is quite OK.

Maybe that’s growth. Maybe that’s the conclusion Pjorn reached too.

Categories
Adventure Interviews Philosophy

Nights and Mornings (AKA. Creative Rejuvenation, Insights & Spontaneity)

During that time a while back of living on a bicycle, one of the best parts was talking to people about things like finding a path in life, being content, ambitious, happy, making big decisions and all that good stuff. Those conversations were a consistent positive in a state of heavily fluctuating moods, mentalities and motivations. There’s a few reasons why those moments stick out. One is that it’s cool to relate to people and realise that everyone, no matter who they are, deal with similar thoughts. Another is that sometimes other peoples views can affect our own, and offer insights that have perhaps been overlooked and may be useful/actionable depending on our current circumstances.

To be honest, it seems like an age ago now where talking about these topics was a regular thing, and I’ve been missing those conversations, as well as missing making images just for enjoyment. So I’ve been wondering about simple ways to rejuvenate that. That’s where a new blog project – Nights and Mornings – comes in. It’s pretty simple really, and involves teaming up with an individual or small group, or solo, going somewhere with fresh air, chatting about the stuff mentioned above and someone’s story / taking an unconnected time out, sleeping in a sleeping bag on some grass, waking up somewhere epic, taking a bunch of photos and posting it all here as and when. Hopefully it’ll be fun, a kick up the ass to get away from the computer and stop letting everything else get in the way, and maybe insightful to read. I’ve done it a couple of times recently and it’s been really helpful, so if you’re in a rut I would highly recommend grabbing a sleeping bag and getting outside. Doesn’t need to be anything fancy. (I’m a big fan of Alastair Humphreys’ #microadventure movement)

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For the first one, I teamed up with Ben Robinson who’s been a good pal for years. We grew up in the same village in England, got into lots of mischief, rock climbed (he’s also a lightning fast belayer), bunked off school to rock climb, rode bikes, travelled to cliffs in the US and Europe, and generally spent a bunch of time in the mountains or on pedals. For a couple of years he’s been working in Thailand, as operations manager at an outdoor centre in the jungle, and before that he was living and working in New Zealand in a variety of roles. He is really good at going somewhere for a long-ish period of time and becoming fully immersed in that place and community. A couple of weeks ago he returned to the UK and for the first time in a while, we were in the same place at the same time, so on a whim threw some stuff into his van and headed to an old stomping ground in the fells. (ps. first person to identify the location gets a mars bar in the post.)

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On the draw of going somewhere to start from scratch, and the challenges of returning.

“You can go away and be who you want to be. You can make your life what you want it to be without any external factors. And that’s really refreshing, but then when you come back, and you’re now set a lot lower than what you may have been in another country, and your job might not be as good, or you might feel more pressure, it’s difficult to come to terms with. Everyone gets on with their life, and if you go away for a year or more, everyone’s moved on. No-one stops because you’re not there, and coming to grips with that, at first, was a bit weird.”

On being shy and solving that.

“When I first left to travel on my own, I found it really difficult to go and talk to people. I was really shy at that time which I’d never really felt before, because I’d always been somewhere I knew or with people I knew. Now after a few years of being used to those situations, I enjoy talking to new people, anywhere, but it wasn’t easy. I’d never thought of myself as a shy person before. I lived in Bangkok for a few months, and a lot of that time was by myself, and I didn’t have a big friend base at that time. I felt like an alien. But all it took was time and confidence, even before learning to speak Thai, and now it’s really no problem.”

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On escapism, progress, and perceived reality.

“At the moment I’m just really enjoying being back. Part of me feels like I should be developing here as well, so I’m not just always going away, then coming back to the same situation. Now it’s easy, in the grand scheme of things and logistically, to leave tomorrow and go almost anywhere with just a bit of cash. But maybe it is a way of escaping your situation, and maybe it’s an easy fix to go somewhere new. One time when I came home from Asia was because of the feeling that everyone else was progressing, and feeling pressure that I wasn’t living in reality, where in fact, in retrospect I was making my own reality, just in a completely different way to a lot of other people I know. And I’m not saying that what I do is a really good way to live. For most people it’d be shit never having anything set. But ‘don’t worry so much’ is what I need to tell myself. And I do get worked up about it still, having to have a plan and knowing the next step, but sometimes if you’re always worrying about the next step, then you’re going to worry yourself to death. Obviously you have to be driven and not get stagnant, but you don’t have to get stressed out.”

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On ambition and contentment.

“I’ve always known people who have been very ambitious, about career or education or outdoors. I struggle with not knowing which direction to put my energy. I don’t have an ambition to be a doctor, or climb the highest mountain in the world. I think it’s important that you have things you want to do though.”

“If I think about what I’m ambitious for in life, it’s maybe a bit stereotypical, but I want to have a job that I like a lot, that isn’t like working but is something I’m happy to put energy into. It’s not like ‘oh man I’ve gotta go to work’. If you’re happy to do that everyday, that’s gotta be good. And good people to share my life with as well, and I’m not just talking about a girlfriend or wife, I mean everyone. I’ve learnt now, and it’s obvious looking back, but I’ve realised I thrive by being around other people. I’m not good on my own. So having good people around, sustaining a nice lifestyle, that’d be a happy life. And obviously learning to say the alphabet backwards.”

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On giving advice to a younger self.

“Be happy with who you are. Don’t worry about what people think of you. Have the confidence in yourself to talk to people. It’s not a big deal, it doesn’t matter where you are. You have the power to spark conversations. You can’t wait for other people to do that for you. You’ll probably meet a few assholes, but you’ll meet a lot of wicked people too. There’s so much pressure now, but don’t worry if what you’re doing now isn’t what you want to do forever.”

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On a quote that has been influential.

To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea… “cruising” it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

“I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.” What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of “security.” And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine – and before we know it our lives are gone.

What does a man need – really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in – and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all – in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life? 

– Sterling Hayden

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Philosophy

Brain Versus Body – A Tale of Roast Beef

“When the first snowfall comes, that’s usually it for the rest of the winter.”

The Winnipeg resident’s advice echoed at the forefront of my mind as the heavy snowfall fell to the ground in Sault Ste. Marie, on the eastern side of the grand Lake Superior. The falling powder, low visibility and the baltic chill showed no immediate signs of letting up. It was going to be a glove day, once I’d drummed up enough motivation to go outside.

There was no real reason to not be motivated, as I’d spent the night in a motel. Hardly hardcore but needed sometimes. It hadn’t been a cold night and there had been no suffering, but opening the door and being hit by the chill was a shock, even after all this time experiencing the seasonal change each day. It was enough of a reason to close the door, rustle around in the pannier bags, and find more layers.

After leaving the room and setting out, I rode for twenty minutes. Along the snowy pavements, with the rain jacket hood done up tight over the shell of my helmet. It was a balancing act performed at a slow pace. In the snow, it would be easy enough to fall and slide along the whiteness, especially with the bald tyres that were currently on the bike.

It took focus. Cars would drive by, their lights bright to tackle the fog, and the spray from the snow and the sleet would fire up from their wheels to land on the pavement. Offsets of that spray would hit the few exposed parts of skin that were left, and every time a chill would run down my spine as though someone had poured ice cubes down my shirt.

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It wasn’t a smooth start to the day, and acting on those initial signs had become a bit of a superstition. Over time you lose perspective and in the haze things like superstition seem to hold more weight.

Thank God – the big red logo and the cars in the drive through lane. That would be a good place to drum up motivation. A happy place, a familiar place, a warm place. A place that, like motels, if visited too much, makes you feel guilty that you’re not truly living the ‘adventurous nature’ of a trip like this. But the roast beef sandwich combo at Tim Hortons would warm me up and for a brief while there would be no guilt. There was motivation inside those four walls, there was time to get fired up.

It was only the end of October, but whoever was in charge of Tim’s music selection had decided that they would try to encourage some early Christmas spirit, by playing the corniest of songs to match the fresh Lapland-esque scene that was now on display outside the window. One in particular struck a chord that day. “Baby It’s Cold Outside”.

In the comfort of Tim’s hospitality, some lyrics of that song seemed to sum up exactly, word for word, what was running through my head, like an internal monologue, brain versus body.

{I really can’t stay} – There was a narrow window of time left.
{But baby it’s cold outside} – It really was.
{I’ve got to go away} – Time was a fuse, like it was two lines ago.
{But baby it’s cold outside} – The roast beef combo was looking up from the plate like a mindreader.

The realisation that you’ve not set out on this journey to sit in a Tim Hortons listening to terrible pop songs whilst eating roast beef doesn’t take long to reach. It was time to go. MAN UP YOU BIG PANSY – the monologue was going off – an anti-pathetic alarm.

Once I’d put every layer back on and wrapped a doubled up bin bag around the leather saddle, I finally did set off, precariously rolling along the snow-filled sidewalks. The spray that was being kicked up from the spinning wheels made me long for the wheel fenders that were now long gone, left behind when in the summer they had seemed completely obsolete.

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It’s still a sweaty game, regardless of the cold. Sweaty enough for a wool shirt to become damp at any rate, even if it was flat. Pedalling away from Sault Ste. Marie, the landscape was for the most part level. Had the sunshine been out, there would be little to separate here from those long days in the prairies.

When it began to get dark, the landscape had turned remote, in the kind of way that would be perfect were it not reminiscent of a scene from The Snowman. There was plenty of land, and most land owners would surely be tucked up in their living room for the night. What’s not to like about that kind of stealth-camping freedom?

It wasn’t the kind of day where night riding would be fun at all, yet it also seemed like it would be wise to choose a place to sleep carefully, rather than just rush into it and pitch the tent at the side of the road or in the middle of a field. Pedalling towards the horizon, constantly scanning the farmland, it seemed like there were a couple of options.

One was to pitch in a field – maybe in the corner of one it would be possible to find shelter from the elements. Another was to find somewhere that was truly sheltered. The latter would be good, as it was clearly going to be one hell of a cold night, both water bottles now frozen solid with no liquid inside them, silently attached to the bike frame instead of the normal slosh, slosh, slosh.

What is that? It looks like a barn. It is a barn. Far ahead, slightly off to the side of the road, there was a wooden barn with a green roof. It had three walls, and was open at one side.

As it was still a distance away, there was a few minutes of cycling time to consider a) whether it was trespassing and b) because it clearly was trespassing, whether I was willing to trespass for the benefits of shelter.

A question of morality and legality. The private land dilemma had come up many times before, but this felt a little different because a barn is actual shelter – it’s not like sleeping in the corner of a field. To decide became an internal role-play exercise. Brain versus body yet again.

If I was a farmer, and it was freezing outside, would I care if someone camped in my barn?

The answer was: not really, as long as they didn’t burn the place down or steal anything.

With a decision made, I pedalled over to the barn, finding that inside was a bright orange Hesston combine harvester and some other heavy-duty farming machinery. The ground was dry, and the roof was solid. It was still going to be a cold night, but it would be a sheltered one, at least on three sides.

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You know when you just can’t get a song out of your head? The second verse of that song was running over and over, an irritating loop, impossible to drown out as the dusk disappeared and nightfall arrived.

{This evening has been}
Been hoping that you’d drop in.
{So very nice}
I’ll hold your hands. They’re just like ice.

Under the roof of the barn, nestled in the space between the machinery, shivering as my hands were sandwiched tight under each armpit, the last line seemed appropriate. Half of it, anyway. Just like ice.

Surely it had been a foolish decision to not upgrade to warmer sleeping kit, even if it would only make these last few weeks more comfortable and nothing more? The right gear would change this situation completely. I didn’t have a good reason for why, but enduring these nights seemed like a challenge that was worth taking on. Maybe it was because it was these kind of shivering moments, that didn’t involve motels or Christmas music or roast beef sandwiches, that were the ones I’d been looking for.

On a continent where it can seem like ease and comfort is never too far away, there is value in these moments of relative suffering and isolation, and in a twisted way, they are cherished times. 

With two weeks of this way of life left, this had been the coldest night. It wasn’t the Antarctic or anything. At -9 Celsius, my army pal might laugh and wonder how it compares to the time he skied into a cut out hole in the middle of a frozen Scandinavian lake, however I tried to think back over the previous 11 months – there had been plenty of freezing nights, extreme weather, solid water bottles – but nothing that seemed as brutally cold as this.

It can be easy to lose track of time when days and weeks blend together like they do when travelling by bike for a long time. Time in general becomes a blur. When I woke up in that barn the following morning, and touched the merino wool t-shirt which had become rock hard in the night as the moisture froze, I realised the cyclical nature of this journey (excuse the pun), and of long journeys as a whole, whatever kind they may be.

The bike ride had gone through every season, each one bringing challenges and opportunities. I’m not going to pretend that waking up in the barn was a particularly pleasant one, but it was worth it. Winter 2012 to Winter 2013. 4 seasons ticked off like the boxes on a questionnaire. That full-circle nature had made the trip more vast than it was ever imagined to be. Anything that takes a chunk of time to endure and which, at times, can seem overwhelming to take on, is worthwhile.

Ignoring the frozen t-shirt and perhaps cursing it just a little bit, at that moment, there was no doubt at all that this would be a valuable chapter to look back on once it was over.

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Categories
Philosophy

Is Success Make-Believe?

Yesterday I fell down a well. In the well there was plenty of exploring to do. It was just like you’d expect it to be. Skeletons, coins, and rays of sun which hit the water like a spotlight. No not literally – literally falling down a well would be ridiculous. It was the well of new insights.

This is a post about something that I don’t understand, because even though the words continue and are one-sided, goals remain a big driving force. A bunch of you are probably similar and have a large amount of impatience when it comes to your progress. So this post is hypocritical. And it doesn’t have much to do with adventure. But sometimes writing about stuff can be a good way to attempt to understand it, and that’s what this is. (Shoutout to the awesome Delve.tv for the inspiration and insights)

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Loads of us have struggles with ambition vs. contentment, goal setting vs. happiness, being excited about where we are now vs. looking towards where we want to be.

Selection bias is when something is reported but is biased and inaccurate. Reported ‘success’ is plagued with it. The outlets we watch, read, and listen to all suggest that we should invent an app in our twenties and sell it for a billion dollars within 18 months. It’s mostly about winning with speed,  whilst we’re young. But fast-success is like winning the lottery and rarely happens. We gloss over slow-success – the kind that is achieved by plugging away. We gloss over the years of hustle. The years when it doesn’t work.

There’s an actual reason why we only hear about the fast, young success stories. And this is the bit that blew my mind whilst in the confines of that well: a few influential marketers caused us to celebrate young and fast, because it sells more stuff.

Madison Avenue in the 50’s. A bunch of ad execs got together and decided to sell products to younger people. Why? Because you can sell more stuff for longer to younger people. Companies make more money because younger people buy things for their whole lives. It’s not as hard to persuade a young person to buy something than an older person who’s already picked whether they’re Team Coke or Team Pepsi. It’s marketing, and it’s the reason and the root of why we are conditioned to think that it’s normal to reach ‘success’ fast and young. But it’s not actually very normal at all.

Da Vinci was born in 1452. Let’s call him L D V because everyone loves an acronym. He got a painting apprenticeship when he was 14. He then got a few freelance gigs, messed them up completely, and no-one would hire him to make stuff anymore. He had to paint dead criminals to get by. But during his dark days he kept making, kept bashing out work, kept painting. Kept creating for 16 years and still nothing happened. It was 1498 when he had a breakthrough and made something that anyone cared about. It was called The Last Supper and apparently it’s alright.

Same story for most people. Think of someone you know who you think has it all figured out now, delve into their story and I bet you’ll find that wasn’t always the case. There’s generally this long and sustained period of failure before anything happens. We’re happy to ignore that it takes years. We’ll gladly disregard the first 9,000 hours of the 10,000 hour rule because the story’s not as good if that bit is mentioned. We think overnight success when it’s closer to 20-year success.

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It seems like there’s a few takeaways. We should be ambitious, because it’s a powerful driver. If bigman L D V stopped being ambitious, and stopped being persistent towards his mission, then that would’ve been bad news for him, and for the world if that’s your kinda thing.

For the grand missions, we shouldn’t worry or become too impatient if things take longer than expected, or longer than is ‘normal’. Because modern normal has literally been skewed for profit.

If we are driven by a meaningful goal then we should be happy for it to take time, and expect this time to be when people doubt. Doubt is OK if you’re committed to the long-game. Here’s some of my own selection bias: People doubted Google in 1998. Guess what, doubters? They just brought out a self-driving car which will use sensors to stop people being killed in car accidents. No-one in their right mind doubts Google anymore. They remembered to never listen to anyone who isn’t in the ring. They remembered to be stubborn in times of doubt. They remembered that critics who chime in without ever having made anything are trolls.

It’d be really easy to end here with a mega-cliché. The classic one that you know already. Featuring the words journey and destination. Urghh, sorry. Let’s not do that.

Shouldn’t ignoring the goals and taking joy from the process be the most crucial ingredient? Seeing something taking shape should be the reward. Everything else should be a side-effect that isn’t the focus. Maybe we should ignore the pressure for things to happen quickly because that’s what we’ve been brainwashed to believe is normal when it isn’t.

When the meaning behind doing what we do is the right one, the slow plod is the right path. Because without even knowing it we’ll probably look back and realise that, whilst it might seem like a process wrought with irritating plateau’s and speed bumps, we have come a long way and are taking steps forward. Perhaps that’s more important than success or reaching a goal. Perhaps that is enough?

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(p.s. here’s a more adventure-centric post for Sidetracked about going for a walk in Alaska.)

Categories
Interviews Philosophy

9 Realisations on Anxiety, Persistence, Challenges & More

It’s a highly unlikely thing that they’d be shouting. Armed robbers wouldn’t care. They’d probably want wallets and a code to a safe or to find nearby car keys and laptops. Maybe an escape route that avoided Liam Neeson. If they did want all that they’d probably be quite disappointed. But let’s stretch our imaginations for a second. If an aggressive dude was holding a gun to my temple and screaming, ‘if you could only choose one part of last year to do again what would it be’, then I wouldn’t say the bike trip. Or the locations it took place in. Or the foggy mornings and quiet nights. Or anything like that.

To whittle it down to one thing, as per their ridiculous, somewhat improbable and weird-crazy armed robber demands, the answer would be: having the opportunity to talk to a bunch of radfolks™. Because of the moments that were shared and the wisdom that every single person had to offer in their own unique and always badass way. I’ve been delving into the archives over the last few days and came across some things that I’d forgotten about but are valuable.

Things that make a lot of sense but are sometimes overlooked. Easy to forget when you want to get somewhere fast. Easy to forget when you fail or succeed. Easy to forget when your nerves kick in. Easy to forget when you over-focus on one aspect of your life and let others slide. And easy to forget when you get frustrated by thinking you don’t have any of this sh*t figured out and then wrongly assuming others don’t question it all too.

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On The Process, Anxiety & Confidence – by Nick Thune, Comedian

“You look around, and it’s a business where there is no sure path, so it’s hard to realise that it’s this marathon where everybody’s kind of running their own pace. And it’s not about winning, it’s just about getting to the end and pacing yourself out for it. And that’s a thought that you have to look back into when you feel that way. I feel that constantly. I can be really overly confident sometimes, and I know that’s gotten me in trouble before, and sometimes I’ll be so insecure that it gets me in trouble. It’s a weird battle that you’re constantly fighting back and forth.

At 16 my mom put me in with one of their friends who’s a therapist. I just remember the simplest thing he told me is that at any moment you can change your attitude. It’s actually one of the most simple things. And a lot of the time it’s just changing the way you’re thinking about one thing. Like – anxiety is also anticipation, and excitement. If you’re nervous about something, what if you were excited about it? It’s actually the same feeling in your body. And I don’t know if this is actually true – I just remember hearing it and wanting to believe it so bad that I made it true – but the feeling of anxiety in your body is physically the same feeling as excitement, your brain is just choosing to look at it the way you’re choosing to look at it. And that’s something I focus on a lot.”

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On What You Do Every Days & Making Things – by Dora Sullivan, Mayor of Cape Charles, Virginia

“I think the thing that people miss is the fact that it’s not so much about what you do every day. In Greece you could see a street sweeper, and that’s his day job, but it’s what you do after the fact. It’s your circle of friends. It’s family. It’s the rescue dog. And then you’ve gotta dream. It’s so good to dream. So I make things. I look like a bag lady. I go to the beach and pick up driftwood, rocks, glass, fishing lures. I found half an oar the other day. And then I make something. It’s therapy, and it’s the thrill of the hunt and the smell of the sea. At some point, you’re going to have to do one of those dreams. You’re going to have to do something on that list, or you’ll catch yourself in your own lie because you didn’t do it.”

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On Good Energy, Paying It Forward & Challenging Yourself – by Brad Haith, Cross Country Walker

“At 14 years old I was in trouble a lot, and that trouble led up until the age of 16. That landed me in jail until I was 26. After 10 years in prison, when I got out I decided to change my life. And this must come with some insight of wanting to change, so I grabbed a bag, and I wanted to help people. I always loved helping people. So I decided to walk and give out the energy I had that was holding inside me. I had a small backpack, and no food or anything. I just wanted to give out some good energy and break away, like a release from where I was, and travel. It changed my life. I shook every hand I could shake, and met everyone from just about every nationality.

The interesting point in my journey was – it didn’t only change my life, I hope that I changed other peoples lives as well. I think passing it on is important, because once I have received what I have received, it’s not fair for me to hold it in for myself. I think it’s good to share it. My childhood was in jail. Prison. Penitentiary. And it was tougher, rougher. I didn’t have a life. This is why I believe in positive energy, and good natured people. Because when you do something good, it comes back. It’s the cycle of life, I believe. In 13 years I was not hurt once, and I’ve met everyone from all walks of life.

Always challenge yourself. Always. Because it gives a meaning in ones life to always challenge yourself.”

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On Being Tired Of It All & Where To Find Inspiration – by Sierra Noble, Singer Songwriter

“I think that it’s those times where you’re having a bad day and you’re tired and you look in the mirror and it’s just like ‘I look like crap, I feel horrible, I’m exhausted, I don’t feel like doing the show’. It’s in those moments of vulnerability and in a way, openness, that I’m always reminded. When I do the show and afterward go out and meet people, it’s really easy to convince yourself that you feel alone and tired of all of it, but it’s also really easy to open yourself up to connecting with people anywhere, and it doesn’t have to be anyone that you know. It can be a 10 second genuine exchange with a human being, that can completely recharge your being.  And I’ve realized that life is really fulfilled by connection, and humans thrive in connection. And if we cut ourselves off, whether it be our own doing or whether we’re cut off by other reasons, that’s when we stop thriving.

Honestly, not thinking about it is the best thing you can do, and staying open – keeping your heart and mind open. And if you’re even this much drawn to something, go in that direction, check it out, go through the door, check out the room, if it’s cool sit in it for 5 minutes. Be like ‘what’s gonna happen? I don’t know. Oh nothing happened. Next door.’ I find that I get the most stuck when I think about it too much. It’s the same with writers block and all that. People rack their brains for inspiration, when that’s not where you find inspiration. Inspiration isn’t often in our brains, it’s around us, and we have to just stop and listen to the universe around us.”

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On Your Previous Self & Being Good At Something – by Andrew Sinkov, VP Marketing at Evernote

“I don’t think you can actually give your previous self any advice, because if I gave myself advice, I wouldn’t be the person that I am now. So I think the best advice is to just keep on doing what you’re doing.

I think everybody’s good at something. Most people that aren’t sure where they need to go haven’t identified the thing that they’re good at. Everybody has a skill or a passion that really gets them going. And it’s translating that into something real-world that is actually useful and applicable. I think often people don’t realise what they’re actually good at, or what their skills are and what makes them different from the people that are standing next to them, and I think it’s exploring that, and finding an outlet for it. It’s just identifying in yourself the thing that really makes you happy, and finding that there are opportunities out there in all industries that allow you to do that.”

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On Imposter Syndrome, Success & The Edge Of Competency – by Matt Mullenweg, founder of WordPress

“What I see more amongst entrepreneurs who are friends, is the ‘I shouldn’t be here’ – more impostor syndrome. It’s not that you’re scared of success, it’s that sometimes you can really reach a level of success that you feel like you’re not ready for yet, or a level of responsibility. The truth is that none of us have really done this before. And when you accept that, and just do your best, or try your hardest and learn as much as you can, I feel like when you rise to those challenges, that it’s very satisfying, because you’re constantly at the edge of your competence.”

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On Persistence, Risk & Betting On Yourself – by Ruben Fleischer, Film Director

“There’s friends I can think of that were way funnier than me, or way more talented. And I think they were afraid to take the risk. Whereas for me, the one talent I think I have more than anything else is persistence. I just won’t give up. And so when I was trying to be a director, and I put myself $35,000 in debt trying to do that, but I was determined that it was going to work out. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d figured it out. It just was unfathomable. Once I said, ‘I’m going to start directing’, and I just stopped working for other people, and shot short films and low-budget music videos, that’s when nothing was handed to me. I just kept on shooting, shooting, shooting, shooting, and then gradually people started to pay attention, and then it kept just growing very organically. And it has because it’s been almost 10 years now, starting from a $50 music video to features for studios.

There’s a million directions to go – I think that’s the trickiest part. But the more you know where you wanna be, the more people can help you get there. Otherwise, if you truly don’t know, I think you’ve just gotta go experience as much as you can. And if you have an inclination to something, try it and see if it suits you, and if it doesn’t, keep it moving and see what’s next. There’s a lot of successful people who can tell you that they didn’t find it right away, and that it came later in life or that they kind of stumbled into it. A lot of people just happen across it. That was certainly the case for me.”

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On Figuring Out How To Make It Work & Having Support – by Eileen Gittins, CEO of Blurb Inc

“Do something you love. I don’t care what it is. If you love it, you will figure out a way to make the rest of your life work with that. I have to be in it and love that thing. It’s like artists – seriously – where they can’t not paint. A musician can’t not make music. If you can find anything where you feel that way about it, just do it. Because that will work out in the end. You just have to ride it and just know that it’s a journey – it’s not a straight line – and be prepared for that. And have support around you. Family, friends, partners, spouses, whatever – who are in it with you. It’s too hard to do by yourself, you have to have people in it with you.”

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On There Being Nothing That Stops You – by John Canfield, founder of High Above Designs

“A good friend had a ski company and was thinking about making a pack. He said to me, whilst I was still working at my former business, ‘look I need a prototype made’. And I agreed to do it, and I also prefaced it with him that I really didn’t know what I was doing. He was like, ‘that’s OK, you can learn’ and from his entrepreneurial standpoint it was; what you need to know, you will learn.

So he gave me this project, and right as that project started I was fired from my last job for bringing my dog into work. I remember calling him and being like ‘Dan, I’m so screwed. I don’t have a sewing machine to use anymore’. I didn’t have one at home. And he said ‘You should go get one’. And I remember thinking, that’s so simple. His spirit was saying there’s nothing that stops you, there are things that slow you down, and it’s the way you deal with them and the way you move past them. And that was an eye-opener for me.”

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Philosophy Vague Direction Book

Maple Syrup Criminals and Musical Nostalgia

Blurry windows. Tapping at phones. Window gazers. Sleepers. The Swede sat on the luggage rack and the classic Loud Eater. That familiar streak of towns as we glide through them. On the train, on the move again. And a sudden, distinct moment of nostalgia just hit. A song came on.

“Many days fell away with nothing to show. And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we loved. Great clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above. But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?”

Oh no. I just put song lyrics in a blog post. Sorry. Who does that? But the point is this – Music. It is cool isn’t it? How peculiar is it that a simple song can take you back to a single moment. I remember it as clear as day. It was the day after cycling away from Niagara Falls, staying with firstly strangers now pals, Heather and Mike. They’d put on a surprise spread and it was cracking. There was real Canadian maple syrup. Not the fake maple syrup, the real stuff. The syrup that’s targetted by organised crime bosses because it’s so good. It marked the end of the Canada section, eh. Crossing over again and riding back into the US for the final few weeks.

The air. Oh crikey. It was starting to get cold. At the time, ‘starting to get cold’ was a less harsh thing to write than ‘it’s f*cking freezing’. Sometimes I felt like a fraud for doing that, softening up the reality of certain days. That was prior to learning that an honest blog makes for a better blog. 

Every morning was more bitter than the previous one. This song came on. The roads were empty. Headphones set to loud – dangerously loud when cars passed by and dangerously fun when they didn’t. When you got going it was perfect. There’s need to soften up a day like that when you get going. Being cold and warming up beats being too hot any day. Ten minutes in and it was perfection. Every pedal-stroke, every mile, and every new song set on a backdrop where the colours could’ve been put on the front of a Happy Autumn postcard.

“But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?”

It does. Sorry again for the lyrics. But the song. It brings back good times. And bad. The whole spectrum. It was the most epic 368 days I’ve had chance to be part of so far. The people and the journey made it what it was. A trip full of intense highs and scraping lows. There’s no bike to look after now though. Not on this mini-trip. I remember the rage it caused sometimes, the desperate desire to get rid of the stress of looking after it so much. Not leaving it anywhere out of sight because it contained everything. Or taking a foolish gamble and locking it up with fingers firmly crossed. Sometimes just hiding it in the nearest trees. But now that worry is missed of course, because that kind of stress changes with time. Like memories do.

Anyway enough of that. There’s just rucksacks now. Two small rucksacks that once again contain everything. There’s a specific reason for being here. An end goal. That is to see this through, to do it and not talk about doing it. I’m going somewhere new, the capital city of Croatia of all places, to finish the Vague Direction book. Creative doubt has kicked in. It’s been kicked in for months in preparation, but that’s sometimes a good thing. I don’t know if it’ll be worth it but would prefer to risk finding out and then going from there. Figure that even if it’s a flop it beats talking about it and not doing it. And it’ll be a weird type of closure.

This trip isn’t as long as last time. Nowhere near. Just enough time. Somewhere without the old distractions, but with new ones to get distracted by. And a deadline of 8 weeks to finish the inside of a book before getting kicked out of by Bizerka the landlord. Because of all that it wasn’t sad leaving this time, just exciting. It’s not for a long time, and it doesn’t revolve around constant movement, so it will be different, but just as new.

The reason behind doing this is simple. The most creative I’ve ever felt was during that year on a bicycle. Ideas flowed like they don’t do in a more regular way of life. Speaking of which, Stanford just released research saying a persons creativity increases 60% when walking. Gonna hedge a very non-academic bet and guess that those kind of results aren’t exclusive to walking. Fresh air and taking a step away from wherever you’re used to have to play a large part. Stepping away from wherever you’re used to. Typical days make it easy to forget about those factors and get too settled in a routine. We all have unique ways to find creative flow and I’m hoping that going somewhere new will provide a way to get immersed in that state.

So after however many months it’s been, it’s time to turn the same playlists back on and delve back into last year. Can’t wait to get this going again. Who knows what nostalgia will kick in when the hip-hop comes on.

“Long as there’s batteries in my Walkman, nothing’s the matter with me, sh*t look on the brightside, least I am walking. I bike ride through the neighbourhood of my apartment complex on a ten-speed, which I’ve acquired parts that I find in the garbage – a frame then put tyres on it, headphones on look straight ahead” – Eminem.

 

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