“We’re jumping into the deep?” I ask my sister somewhat nervously—and rhetorically, since my we’re already rushing to pull snorkels on our heads and jam fins on our feet.
The catamaran rolls in the swells while her husband Rob keeps the 40-foot boat a steady distance from where the waves break against the cliffs of the little island. The plan is for Rob to cut the engines long enough for us to slip into the water, where we’ll swim a loop around the rocks that plunge into the depths, before he comes back to cut the engines again for the instant it takes to pick us up.
Bri flashes a grin at me through her mask. “This is my kind of adventure. Think of it like jumping off a cornice,” she says, and then she drops into the ocean.
I’ve spent time in a fair few mountain towns. They share plenty of commonalities, like an almost-comical pride in their own breweries and an overabundance of dogs per capita. But mostly they share this: a legendary drive for adventure that spans the spectrum from weekend warriors to full-time ski bums and dedicated #vanlifers. Continue reading
Last winter my soul sister adventure buddy Ellyse and I took a leap to make a dream come true and bought tickets to Chile to hike the Torres del Paine. As we started researching, it became clear that it’s hard to figure out how to plan a multi-day trek down there. Continue reading
There’s nothing to writing. You just sit down and bleed. – Earnest Hemingway
I had a story published a few weeks ago that broke me to write. I’ve never had a story impact me like that.
I went for a walk after I finally submitted it, after I cried and bled and lost hours to the flow state of writing to lift my head and realize it was dark out, after reading it and understanding it was good, and I thought: sometimes we’re lucky enough to tell those stories that push our limits, and the fact that this one shattered me is why it’s so good. And maybe that’s how you know it’s an important story to tell in this era of so much noise, that it’s worth the breaking for. Continue reading
“I can’t believe you’re putting on mascara right now,” the woman said to me in the bathroom of the eco-resort in Patagonia. I was fresh from my first shower in a week. I’d just finished backpacking the O Circuit in Torres del Paine with my friend Ellyse, who swiped gloss over her lips next to me. “We’re in the mountains. Who cares what you look like? I’ll see you when you’re done primping,” the woman sneered as she walked out the door. Continue reading
When you go into the uncharted sea, there is fear, immense fear, because one never knows what is going to happen. You are leaving the shore of safety. You were perfectly okay, in a way; only one thing was missing—adventure. Going into the unknown gives you a thrill. The heart starts pulsating again; again you are alive, fully alive. Every fiber of your being is alive because you have accepted the challenge of the unknown.
A few weeks ago, I stepped way outside my comfort zone to ride a sled for the first time. Learning to manage the old heavy snowmobile, surrounded by experienced sledders who knew what they were doing, and working to keep my ego in check at being the graceless newbie, I was completely wiped by the end of the day. Continue reading
Last winter I broke my ankle in a high-speed crash on Revelstoke Mountain Resort. My ski season effectively ended on February 3 at 2:02pm (you better believe I marked the time). It was a soul-crushing blow as the winter of 2016-17 evolved into the most epic snowpocalypse in recent memory.
But the bigger blow wouldn’t come until the start of this winter. Continue reading
“It’s just the new normal,” someone said to me recently.
It was the day I broke down in tears on the phone to one of my Senator’s offices, calling to ask him to finally do something about the assault weapons killings hundreds of people in this country, to step up to help the people in Puerto Rico quickly running out of water and food, and to reinstate funding to provide millions of low-income children with health care. Continue reading