Exploring the American Wilderness and Other Adventures

Creative Chaos, New Places, Wild Beauty, and Spontaneous Adventures: Canada and 24 Hours

Approximately a year ago I made the decision to be open about having cancer. It wasn’t that difficult of a decision because I have always found my life to be easier when I’m transparent and direct. My primary motivation was not for my ease, though. As a leader in the outdoors community, and especially as a woman, I have tried to set the example that the outdoors belongs to everyone, including, or especially, those we might think are unlikely adventurers- whatever that means to you. How can I do that better than by being entirely me – not particularly talented, not the prettiest, not the most athletic, not the best (or even good at all) with societal niceties…and very sick, with the prognosis of getting sicker and sicker. 

Being public about my diagnosis was heartbreaking. I met more than a couple of women who sought me out to tell me they’ve been struggling with cancer themselves but have coped by almost not coping – hiding away, unwilling or unable to share their different selves for a variety of valid reasons. My openness was, and is, received as boldness and bravery. 

It’s not that fantastic. Sometimes I think it’s laziness. But mostly, I think that it is easier to process much of what is happening to me when my Motley Crue of friends share the despair with me. And that generosity they have by sharing their broad shoulders also makes the successes so much sweeter. Sometimes success is simply making it to the next day, but knowing that it is a joyful thing for them helps it feel joyful for me. So…maybe that is actually fantastic.

Openness also makes you, well…OPEN to disappointment and rejection. Many people do not have such broad shoulders or a willingness to share burdens that don’t revolve around them or that they cannot control. I have had a share of this from people I believed in. 

I had a childhood friend, JLM, who moved to Canada. She’s been interesting through the process of discovering why I have been so sick, but as an odd person myself, I like weird people, and it often takes something dramatic for me to see lies and inconsistencies in people as the red flags they are. She became very energetic about wanting to share in bright moments, but as hindsight is always 20/20, these bright spots had to be facilitated by her. She only lives a handful of hours from me, but she’s always canceled on adventure opportunities together. So this time, she said she was taking me on a trip, and all I needed to do was finally get my passport and pick a place… then when my passport arrived, she canceled the opportunity. 

In that same period of time, Barbarian Scientist had planned a surprise trip to Canada with me – only for Covid restrictions to make things very complicated and ultimately not possible.

Enter my friend, The Expeditionologist. There are many layers beneath all of her blonde hair, eyelashes, adventure, and love, and when she cares, she cares so big. Her natural response to my disappointment over finally having my passport and not being able to use it was simply telling me what time she was picking me up. Insert that glorious quote about how important the friends who tell you to pack a bag are because it is time to adventure!

This was in September, during a late wildfire season. Highway 95 through North Idaho to the Canadian border was lined with flames and smothered in smoke. Despite this familiar natural disaster, we had 24 hours. 

She is a dual Canada-US American citizen and is familiar with the region, which meant that our 24 hours were packed with some of the most iconic scenes! And it was amazing. She was amazing. Canada was amazing. She put it best when she posted: “‘Twas an amazing 24-hour adventure. This woman is such a champion, and I was honored to give her her first international experience. Time completely slowed down for us. With more than 16 hours of car time, 15 miles of hiking, a sunset, sunrise, storm, and a million other brilliant moments…all I have to say is I am grateful!”

I’m thankful for the JLMs of the world because although a relationship with her is confusing and disappointing (this is not the last time I allow myself to be built up by her only to be crushed), she unintentionally highlights what IS good in the world – people like The Expeditionologist. Friends who tell you to pack a bag, and they mean it. Friends who show up no matter what, even when there are sacrifices and an expense to be had. Friends who are family. The ones who don’t want anything from you; the ones who will trap themselves on a 24-hour adventure with you when you have nothing to offer but to share your sorrow.

Changing Perspectives with Jenni Brennan

“They walk among you every day.

The silent grievers.

It’s easy to miss them for they’ve learned how to mask their true pain.

You may think you are supporting them when you ask ‘How are you doing?’

But mostly they tell you what you want to hear:

‘I’m doing ok.’

‘Hanging in there.’

‘I’m taking it one day at a time.’

But if they had permission to be honest they’d probably tell you truth:

‘Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe under the weight of all this grief.’

‘I don’t understand how the world can just keep moving on.’

‘I feel completely alone.’

You nod your head in sympathy and say ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

And again they tell you what you want to hear:

‘Ok. Thanks.’

‘That’s so kind. Thank you.’

‘I will.’

But if they had permission to be honest they’d probably tell you truth:

‘I promise you I won’t let you know if I need anything.’

‘It’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other. I don’t know what I need. I don’t have the energy to reach out. So, I won’t.’

‘There’s no way I will. I don’t want to seem weak.’

Maybe you give them a hug and you whisper ‘I wish I could make it better for you” before you walk away.’

And they smile and whisper back what you want to hear:

‘Thank you.’

‘That means a lot.’

‘I appreciate you.’

But if they had permission to be honest they’d probably tell you truth:

‘No one can make it better but you could sit with me in my messy grief for a while longer.’

‘I don’t want someone to make it better. I want someone to let me talk about how much it really hurts.’

‘Then please reach out more. Talk about my loved one. Support me even when I can’t ask for it.’

And later that night you think about them as you capture a quiet still moment in your evening and your heart aches because you know they are struggling.

You hope they know how much you truly care about them.

You pick up your phone and think about reaching out to them.

But then you doubt yourself.

You don’t want to make them feel worse.

You don’t want to remind them of their pain if they are having a good night.

You don’t really know what to say.

And so you put down your phone and trust that they will reach out to you if they need you.

But they probably won’t.

Because we don’t give them enough permission to be real with their grief.

And so they continue to walk among us.

Grieving.

In silence.”