I repeat this line to myself a dozen times, day in and day out. For a girl that always likes to be on the go to somewhere over THERE, I have to in order to remane sane.

The first reminder comes when I wake up in the morning here in Boulder, Colorado in which I’m loving this town and the life I’ve built here. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in the same bed, same room, same apartment, same town for this many months straight in a place that feels like home. Stability, roots, a life greater than what you can fit into a backpack is what I wanted when I got here.

Yet it was just last night I was staring out my window watching the shadows of the trees dance along the edge of my apartment and I reminisced back to the views I had staring out the window of my apartment in Beijing, China in 2010, in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 2008, in Cannes, France in 2006.

It’s 2013. I haven’t left the country in 3 years.

Just putting it out there like that …”I haven’t left the country in 3 years,” makes me bow my head towards the ground, lips pinched shut, as if saying out loud will make the thought even more of a reality. I look at my feet in angst, and wonder what I’ve been waiting for …What have I been so fearful of?

Before anything, I am a traveler. Before a writer, or an entrepreneur, or a motorcycle rider, or coffee drinker, or a rock climber. Before all of those other things in my life that I love and that define me, I am a traveler.

And so I ask myself, “If I am a traveler not traveling, then who am I? What is it I really want?”

I see photos from around the world from travelers. I look at blog posts titled “22 Unbelievable Places that are Hard to Believe Really Exist Around the World”. I want to see the world. I want to touch every last bit of it. I want to experience it all. I want to see the most beautiful views that exist on this planet.

I want to get on a  boat and sail around the world. I want to live in Italy and work on a farm during the olive harvest. I want to backpack my way around South East Asia and Central America. I want to hike the world’s tallest peaks. I want to learn the world’s most beautiful languages. I want to try every last dish and spice and ingredient of the earth. I am wide-eyed, excited, fascinated most when I think about and do these things. This is when I feel, well, to put it into one, single, simple word …ALIVE.

This won’t go away, and I wish so, so badly it would. I wish I could just stay put.

FLASHBACK TO THE PAST:

I suppose I should backtrack to a few years ago, and explain to you why at first I chose to stop traveling.

In 2010 I returned to America after a year spent living, working, eating, sleeping, and being in Beijing, China. I had built a home there complete with a group of wonderful friends, an apartment on the 29th floor that looked over all of Beijing shared with the love of my life, a job that sparked my passion for the outdoors, and a daily life that, while not always easy in a country like China, stimulated, inspired, and enlightened me.

Little did I know that upon my triumphant return to America, that everything would fall apart…

The love of my life would be gone. My group of friends now dispersed to other states or busy with the lives they built for themselves while I was absent. My path in life utterly undefined. Big box stores surrounded me, and I couldn’t find decent Chinese or Thai food anywhere! I’d bump into people and they’d complain about the things they’re so lucky to have, and I never felt so detached in my life.

I was 23, and had no clue what the hell I was doing with my life anymore.

FASTWORD TO TODAY:

It took me 3 years to be happy. To get settled. To feel comfortable in my own skin. To understand myself. To figure out what I wanted to “do with my life”. To start feeling like a woman with purpose instead of a girl who is lost.

So what am I scared of? I’m scared of digging up all the roots and seeds I’ve planted to create what I’ve worked so hard for, in search of some mystery in the great unknown.

Yet travel is calling to me again. While my head says no, my heart and my gut are slowly but surely winning that battle, and I find myself looking at flights to Thailand, or Nicaragua, or South Africa. My work breaks consist of looking at the price of hostels in different cities around the world, or volunteer organizations around the globe, or travel blogs equipped with all the stories and photo essays I need to make me feel homesick for the world.

JUMPING TO OCTOBER:

My lease for the apartment that holds 2 comfortable couches in the living room, a double bed with a cute comforter set in my bedroom, coffee mugs in the kitchen cabinets that I love to hold every morning, and a plethora of outdoor adventure gear in the hall closet is ending on October 31st.

Do I stay? Or do I go?

This had been the question plaguing my mind for months now. Will I be signing a piece of paper come October for another year of chatting with good friends on those living room couches and sleeping soundly in that bed? Or will I be handing my dusty passport to an airport official with a pack on my back, butterflies in my stomach, and a destination only somewhat known?

AND SO HERE I AM TODAY:

Well, I’ve made my decision as to whether I’ll stay or go.

And GO I shall, back into the great unknown that is the world we live in.

I am so scared to let go of the certainties in my life I worked so hard to create, yet I I know I’m meant to do this.

I’m scared that…

This sense of community I have in this town I love will be lost as I head to places where I know not a soul in sight.
That when I come back I’ll be lost again like I was last time.
That I’ll miss “home” the way I miss the world right now.
That I’ll want to come back right away, or that I won’t want to come back at all.
That I’ll have to rebuild a new life all over again for the 5th time.

But my fears no longer outweigh everything else the world has to offer me. Leap and the net will appear.

For in the past 3 years…

I’ve learned to ride a motorcycle, and so I will ride across the salt flats of Bolivia.
I’ve learned to rock climb, and so I will free solo boulders above the sea in Thailand.
I’ve learned just how much compassion I have for people, and so I will volunteer at that orphanage in Kenya I’ve been talking to.
I’ve learned how to be a decent cook, and so I will have dinner parties at my new apartment in Chang Mai.
I’ve learned how to do what I love and support myself with it from anywhere in the world, and so I will do that between flights to the next place that calls me.
I’ve learned how to have routines like a morning writing session, and tea and reading before bed, and not forgetting to floss, and so I will do that wherever it is I start and finish my day.
I’ve learned that I love to hike, and stand up paddleboard, and surf, and climb, and longboard, and bike everywhere I go, and I’ll explore the outdoor landscapes of each place I visit, collecting new beautiful views and challenging adventures to look back on.

Maybe these past few years have been all about preparing me for this next adventure. For I know who I am now more than ever before, and I want to see what this chick can do in this world.

I want to see who I am and what more I can become on this next journey.

I know the butterflies won’t go away. But that’s okay. I like them there.

This post is part of the My Fearful Adventure series, which is celebrating the launch of Torre DeRoche’s debut book Love with a Chance of Drowning, a true adventure story about one girl’s leap into the deep end of her fears.

“Wow, what a book. Exciting. Dramatic. Honest. Torre DeRoche is an author to follow.” Australian Associated Press

“… a story about conquering the fears that keep you from living your dreams.” Nomadicmatt.com

“In her debut, DeRoche has penned such a beautiful, thrilling story you’ll have to remind yourself it’s not fiction.” Courier Mail

Find out more…

If you’ve ever thought about thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, say I.

The documentary they created, Beauty Beneath the Dirt, is raw, honest, and packed with emotion. It’s what every adventure should be – a rollercoaster. There’s tears, laughter, fighting, love, challenge, disappointment, anticipation, frustration, peace, beautiful views, and silent moments packed with meaning. And more than anything, their film and Kate’s answers in this interview, show us that the moments in our lives that test us, that force us to embrace the present moment and confront difficult situations, and that are an absolute circus, also show us who we truly are and all that we’re truly capable of. 

Without further ado, meet Kate Imp of Beauty Beneath the Dirt. – Lauren 

1. While physically completing the AT is an incredible challenge, preparing for it can be just as tough. What did you guys do to prepare for it mentally and physically?

Physically, err, nothing. Ha. I had every intention of exercising before the hike, but I instead put all of my waking hours into the Illinois bar exam. I believe Brandon spent some time on an exercise bike before the trip, and Emily is a serious biker and longboarder so she also had some strength before the trip began. You don’t need to be in shape, you just have to pace yourself during that first month until your ‘hiker legs’ take form.

Mentally, I had been preparing for years. I knew that I wanted to make a film, so during pre-production I watched every documentary I could get my hands on. I also read books to get a sense of what stories had already been told so I didn’t repeat history. We also created a blog and picked up a number of food and outdoor clothing sponsors before the hike. I think it was these kinds of preparations that separated us from the hikers that dropped out early.

2. Being on camera and putting together a film is not something that most people do while doing a thru-hike. What was it like?

Terrible, exhausting, ostracizing. Hilarious, exciting, meaningful. There are two sides to every coin and we experienced both. The great part about filming our experience is that it gave us something to do besides hike. There are a number of times I recall turning on the camera to capture a beautiful view, and then Brandon, Emily, and I would jump in front of the camera and just … dance. Or play house. The bus scene in the film is, by far, my favorite memory and favorite footage, and there’s no way we would have done what we did without the camera rolling.

On the other hand, the camera created a HUGE stress that no other hiker had. We had 80 hours of footage. 80 hours. And that is just the time that the camera was rolling. A simple 2-second hiking shot would take, at a minimum, 45 minutes when you account for pulling the camera out, setting up the tripod, white-balancing, checking sound, getting all of us in frame, and pressing record. It was exhausting.

The camera also added an odd and unexpected social dynamic that I definitely had not anticipated. Essentially the camera became a fourth (and eventually fifth) member of the Traveling Circus. We’d confess all of our true feelings to the camera, than turn it off, return to the rest of the group, and talk about food and miles. It kept the peace at camp, but covered the cracks with band-aids…

3. While the ‘Traveling Circus’ name is pretty self-explanatory, where did your other trail names originate? 

The name ‘Traveling Circus’ originated from a criticism we received on the Internet. Someone said, and I quote, “Documentaries, schedules, bios, blogs? Is this a thru hike or a traveling circus? … I think this little party will dissolve after a few days on the trail.” Haha, you can’t take the Haters seriously in this business if you want to survive, so I took that attack and changed it into a trail name. Our individual names, Ringleader, Monkey, & Lightning, are derived from some quirk or personality trait. I was in charge, Brandon was the comedian, and Emily was fast as lightning.

4. After about a month on the trail you guys had your first real differences. Is this something you were anticipating before the trip began? 

When you spend a lot of time with people, in a foreign environment, deprived of modern conveniences, problems will ensue. That is the basic formula for every reality show ever created. I knew this would happen, but I also knew that hiking in a group with Brandon and Emily would be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. So, to keep us from having a Jersey Shore situation, I tried to keep things as even as possible– sleeping, town time, social time, food. There are so few rewards on this hike that it’s very easy for jealousy to ensue if one person gets more “play” time than another. This, of course, was impossible when we all hiked at different paces and wanted different things out of the trip. And those differences began to seriously wear on us as the hike went on.

5. Before the halfway point you started hiking with Brandon much more. What do you think was the cause of that and how did that change the trip from that point on?

There are a number of things you expect to feel when you thru-hike the Appalachian Trail, but abandonment is not one of them. It was a feeling that we all experienced at some point during the trip, but I was the first. At the beginning of the trip, I hiked alone, last, every day. And every time I’d stop to film, I’d fall farther and farther behind. And it gave me a sense of abandonment, which is a deeper pain than loneliness, especially with that abandoment comes from the people you love. Neither of them intended to make me feel this way, but it became clear as the trip went on that we’d have to change that 1-2-3 hiking dynamic so that no single person would ever have to bear the weight of being last 100% of the time.

When Brandon started to hike with me, the dynamics of the trip changed forever. He changed his hiking pattern mostly because I wanted to film during the day, and when there was something to capture, neither of them were around to be in it. But having him around made me SIGNIFICANTLY happier, even if we didn’t speak during that time. It seemed that we had found the best of both worlds– Emily could do her thing and speed ahead, Brandon and I could spend some time getting footage, and no one would have to hike last.

After awhile it became clear that this dynamic also didn’t work, so we began spending every waking moment together. This led to some of our happiest moments on the trail, but that blissful equilibrium was again disrupted when, as seen in the film, a fourth person joined the Traveling Circus.

6. You met quite a few people while on the trail–some gave you ice cream and some certinly added to conflict within the group. What ‘stranger’ will you remember most that you spent time with throughout your hike? 

My favorite ‘stranger’ was a curmudgeon, old man named Bill. We stayed at the ‘Mayor’s House’ in Unionville, NY and he was the cook. He liked to appear grumpy and mean, but he secretly loved spending time with hikers. After I gained his respect by taking a shot of whisky, he talked to me about life. He said, “Zelda (he didn’t feel like learning my real name), make a good picture.” And I said, “Bill, I’ll do my best.” We actually made a special stop in Unionville, NY on our G2M Tour last summer and donated all of the proceeds to the town. Bill loved the film.

7. After going home for your graduation ceremony you seemed to take on a different outlook of the trip. What did you see that weekend that changed your perspective? Did you have any doubts about completing the trip while you were home?

I never had any doubt that I would complete my thru-hike; the only question was whether I’d enjoy it while it was happening. Ironically, we left ‘the real world’ to get away from ‘real world problems,’ but real world issues followed us to the trail. We never had any problems surviving in the wilderness; that was the easy part for us. The hard part was balancing the needs and wants of three different people … that had completely different needs and wants at any given time, AND trying to stabilize that dynamic, while hiking 20 mi/day, and making a professional-looking film … without a cameraman. Those factors are what nearly destroyed my soul. I knew that Brandon and Emily loved me, but I didn’t really feel like I had anyone on my side. It was like an unspoken truth at camp. And I began to doubt my decision to make this film and hike the trail in a group. At graduation, my friends reminded me why I loved Emily and Brandon so much, and why they were perfect people to experience this adventure with. They also reminded me why I set out to make this film, and that no matter how it turned out, my goal of inspiring people would one day come to fruition. And most importantly, they reminded me that I have people at home that love me just as I am. And that love and support from back home was all I needed to, not only get the job done, but also enjoy the rest of my trip.

8. Obviously the physical demand of thru-hiking the AT is an entire challenge in itself, but the mental and emotional challenges bring in an entire different aspect. What part did you find most challenging?

The AT is physically demanding only because of its longevity. I remember my cross country coach telling me, back in the day, that long-distance running was only 20% physical and 80% mental. The same holds true for this trail. Anyone can hike it, some easier than others, but you don’t have to be an Olympic athlete … or an athlete at all. You just have to listen to your body and put one foot in front of the other. I found the lack of new inputs to be the most challenging part of the hike, particularly in the beginning. My brain was so used to working at high speeds it didn’t know what to do when the only input was trees. My brain was like a radio tuner on the highway, trying to find a station but unable to find anything to latch on to. The only thing left was emotions, which became excentuated because, aside from being physically exhausted, we had nothing else to think about. About 2 months into the trip, I began to have more control over my thoughts, and I found a sense of calmness and peace that I’d never felt before. After awhile, there wasn’t a single thought that went through my head over the course of a 12-hour day.

9. When you began your trip, did you see yourself finishing the way it did?

I knew that I would finish this hike, even if I had to crawl up Mt. Katahdin, but I didn’t know who would be standing at the top with me. Emily, Brandon, and I are very different, but one thing we all have in common is a love of adventure and a desire to break stereotypes. There were a number of people on the Internet, placing bets on which one of us would quit first, and whether we’d make it to Katahdin together. Haters would attack us anonymously, and fans would send us food. It was like Hunger Games without death, ha, but for competitive people like us, it only fueled the fire. I’ll say this, I think the trip ended in the only way it could … and despite our ups and downs, I wouldn’t change a thing.

10. You and your brother Brandon became very close throughout your trip. What do you see in him now because of your experience that you didn’t know before?

I see love. And compassion. My brother and I have always gotten along, but we were never close. And before this trip, I hadn’t see him in 2 1/2 years. I think we both had a little of the ‘I don’t hang out with people like that’ syndrome. We knew that we both enjoyed (1) travel, (2) adventure, and (3) Survivor, but we didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything else. I think our lack of connection hurt us during the first half of the trip, but the events of the second half provided a catalyst for change. As the days went on, the bond became solidified, and now we talk every day. I see what an amazing man he is, I’m so proud of him, and I can’t wait to share more memories together.

11. Is the film available to watch somewhere? What are you up to these days?

Yes. In 2012 we launched two film tours, the Georgia-to-Maine (G2M) Tour and a University Tour. These tours brought the film to theaters, community centers, and colleges/universities near the trail. Though we have booked a few screenings/appearances for 2013, our next step is really promoting our digital distribution outlets. To learn more about our trip, or to actually watch the film, check out our website at http://beautybeneaththedirt.com.

The New Primal jerky, on the other hand, can proudly say that it is all natural, hand-crafted, gluten free, and is made with minimal processing.

Today I’m going to give you a review on the jerky, the company, and the benefits of this specific brand. Check it out:

Not Just Plain Jerky

The New Primal Jerky also includes nuts and dried fruit.

• Pineapple and Beef Jerky (My favorite!)
• Cranberries and Beef Jerky
• Mango and Beef Jerky
• Just Beef Jerky

This stuff was seriously delicious! I brought a few packs out onto the trail to share with friends and they couldn’t get enough of it. The jerky and fruit are seasoned with honey, lemon juice, garlic powder, liquid smoke, onion, pepper, and ginger. DELICIOUS.

 A Company Worth Standing Behind

The New Primal is based out of Charleston, South Carolina. It’s run by husband and wife Jason and Kristin Burke with a staff of 5 outdoor-loving people behind them.

As an entrepreneur myself, and someone that loves the outdoors obviously, I’m always looking for companies that share common values, that are grassroots, and that are doing things the right way. That’s these guys. Yes, the jerky is delicious, but the story behind it backs the product that much more.

In Touch with their Food Philosophy

Quoting from the New Primal founders:

Oh, how we’ve over-complicated and adulterated something as intimate as the food we eat – the very fuel that energizes our bodies. And now that we’ve come this far with processed food, fast food, chemically treated, genetically modified plants and animals; who knows what’s safe and actually nutritious anymore? So, we at The New Primal are making our best attempt at simplifying the entire paradigm. Eat like our ancestors ate.

Try For Yourself!

While The New Primal is popping up in more and more stores, you can order directly from their website here. (They have a beautiful website by the way). Each pack costs about $6.99 and they also offer bundles if you really want to go all out (which you should!)

For people like us that are outside working our bodies constantly,  getting stronger, running faster, exploring longer – we have to take care of ourselves. Our diet on and off the trail is a huge part of this. So rather than getting food pumped with chemicals, get stuff that’s going to keep you healthier and take you to the next level. I know it’s a no-brainer, but sometimes we have to be reminded!

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received The New Primal Jerky  for free from The New Primal as coordinated by Deep Creek PR an Outdoor Industry Public Relations Company

Today, I’m going to give you my thoughts on the Ausugante Alpaca Socks. If you like SmartWool socks, you’ll like these, likely more!

You guys already know that I’m pretty much obsessed with long-distance microadventures. They require A LOT, and I mean, A LOT, of footwork. Trekking up a 14er, skateboarding between two cities in 12 hours – you know, things of that nature – should never be done with neglected feet!

I took the socks on two adventures: 1.) A mile long approach to a rock climbing destination  2.) Longboarding across the town of Boulder

These are the selling points of the Ausugante Alpaca Socks:

• Naturally antimicrobial
• Odor free
• Retain their shape (hate when socks get all stretched out!)
• Do not shrink
• Wick moisture away from feet (essential!)
• Natural compression
• Natural thermal transfer due to hollow core of the fiber

And here’s my take on those selling points:

• Odor free: CHECK. After skateboarding on a hot, sunny day for a few hours I’d typically expect some odor. Nada.
• Retain their shape: CHECK. I wore these around throughout my daily routine in addition to the two adventures I took them on. I washed them, and dryed them. They haven’t stretched at all.
• Wick Moisture: CHECK. This is huge for me. If I lived in a humid place, it’d be an even bigger deal. I didn’t feel my feet getting sweaty at all.
• Natural Compression: CHECK. They felt great. Period.
• All the others are either built-in like being naturally antimicrobial.

Should you get these super comfortable socks?

My answer is YES. They will make a huge difference in your comfort level. Their price point is completely reasonable at $20 for a pair that will last long after you’d like to give a sock credit for. They also make alpaca socks specific to cycling, running, winter, and of course, hiking.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received Ausangate Alpaca Socks for free from Ausangate sports as coordinated by Deep Creek Public Relations. 

M. Bordaux, the author of the blog Thru Hiker 2013, wrote just days before he was to take his first step of all 2,000 miles of the Appalachian Trail over the course of 6 months, ”That’s when my brain decided to let it sink in that I was actually doing this. And as I’m being honest here, for that moment as the plane took off my thoughts were not “wahoo this is it I’m finally doing it I’m on my way.” No! My thought at that moment when it sunk in that I had just left all my loved ones and my most loved one my amazing wife for six months was ‘Oh Fuck, what the hell have I got myself into’!”

“WHAT THE HELL HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?”

This self-imposed question should be asked as much as possible in our lives. It means that we’re taking a risk and we’ve opened up the opportunity to truly screw up, fall flat on our faces, and simply stated, to fail.

Every adventure should have this moment. Surely, on a 6 month adventure, there will be moments of high and low. Moments in which there is no other place he’d rather be, and moments when he wishes more than anything to be anywhere but there. And as I ponder the experience that awaits him over the next 6 months, I can’t help but think about some of my own “What the hell have I gotten myself into” moments and what they’ve taught me.

30 Mile, 12 Hour Skate Trek from Boulder to Denver, CO

• At 3PM, I called my mom and said to her, “This sucks. My feet are killing me. The skyline of Denver looks like a dot. It’s hot as hell. There is no way I’m going to get there before sunset.” At that point, I thought I was pretty freaking stupid for deciding I’d skateboard between Boulder and Denver. I wanted to give up.
• At 8PM, I skated into my destination in the center of downtown Denver. 8 PM on October 12th was one of the happiest, most rewarding, most freeing moments of my life. I had done it. I had gotten myself through what I’d gotten myself into. Sure, my body was tired, but my mind was more awake and aware than I can describe. I felt so present in that moment – I go back to it all the time.

50 Mile, 48 Walk Along the Atlantic Ocean

• At 7AM, I began my walk as the sun was rising and the first beach goers were setting out their lounge chairs. By the time 9AM had rolled around, I’d unloaded my pack, and I was already a bit bored. By the time 1PM rolled around, the Florida sun was burning me to a crisp and there was no escaping it. I thought to myself, “So this is what it must be like to cross the Sahara by foot. Everything looks the same, the sun surrounding you with no escape, and your destination seems infinite from where you stare into the horizon.” I had a day and a half left of this. What the hell had I gotten myself into, I thought?
• At 6PM the next day, I arrived back at the very spot I started at. My shoulders were bruised from my heavy pack, my feet in pain to the point where I thought I’d seriously injured myself, and my skin 5 shades darker. My friend met me on the beach and handed me a beer and asked me how it went. I smiled and said I’ve never loved and hated the beach so much. I can’t wait to do it again.

Why do we do these things?

Why do we put ourselves through these challenges?

BECAUSE:

There is nothing more rewarding than standing on the top of a 14er’s summit after waking up at 4AM to hike up to the top, just so you can see the life-changing view that reminds us just how small we are, just how beautiful and vast this planet we live on is, and just how capable of overcoming a challenge we can be.

There is nothing more rewarding than surfing your first overhead break that time and time again before sent you crashing back into the shore as the other surfers watched you tumble. Now, you and the ocean understand each other – and there’s no other feeling like it.

There is nothing more rewarding than crossing the finish line at the marathon you trained 2 months for; running every single day, ditching hangout sessions with friends so you can keep up with your training schedule, and literally feeling like you’re killing your body in the process.

So my advice for you today – get yourself out on an adventure that you’re scared you won’t be able to get yourself out of. Hike from sunrise to sunset without stopping, kayak the circumference of an island, skateboard between two cities! Think about M. Bordaux and the 6 month journey he’s committed himself too. It’s a grand adventure that he’s on, and that’s exactly how life should be lived.

FOR THE COMMENTS: What has been one of your most memorable “What the hell have I gotten myself into” moments? 

(I read and reply to every content here on OMM. Hearing your stories is the most rewarding part of sharing my own!)

Image Credit: Seed

Editor’s Introduction: Mark my words, the author of this piece, Sidni Giordano, will be making waves in the travel writing and outdoor industry world. I’m lucky enough to know this inspiring girl, for her zest for life, and ability to be open to utterly screwing up and taking leaps of faith, sets her apart from most people roaming this earth. The first of many articles by Sidni here on OMM, I couldn’t think of a better one to introduce this wandering woman to you guys. For those of you with wanderlust that feels like a simultaneous blessing and curse, I think you’ll find by reading this, you aren’t alone.  - Lauren

“Why do you always need to leave? You need to grow up and start doing something with your life,” said my irritated grandmother over the phone after I announced my latest plan to trek across Central America this winter.

The desire to drop everything I’m doing to venture into the unknown torments me like a perpetually dull ache in my side. I stave off this urge on a daily basis, some days more so than others.

Living abroad does that to you. It stirs your soul in such a way that you just know life will never be the same again. Once the wanderlust hits, there is no looking back. The impulse to flee at any given moment will eat away at you until you’re on a plane, watching everything familiar disappear through a tiny window as you ascend into the clouds.

The first time I stepped foot outside the country was at the ripe age of 21. I left everything I’d ever known to study abroad in Ireland. Weeks after my arrival, I fell madly in love with an Australian man, dropped out of school and backpacked across Western Europe.

I spent half a year getting lost in back alleys, hitchhiking through towns I couldn’t pronounce, having intimate conversations with complete strangers, wandering until my feet were raw with blisters, fucking in dirty hostels and experiencing impossibly perfect moments that left me in awe. I had never felt more alive.

I’ve been restless ever since. In the past year, I’ve traveled through the Middle East, rode my bike 4,400 miles across the U.S. and left my friends and family in Maryland to chase my dreams in Colorado.

I struggled hard when I first landed in Boulder. Traveling somewhere is one thing, planting roots is another. After six months of uncertainty, I finally have a great job, awesome friends, an apartment downtown, world class climbing routes in my backyard and all the outdoorsmen I could ever want to date. Despite all the happiness Boulder has brought me, ditching it all for a life of travel is the dark thought that lurks around the back of my mind. The temptation is always there.

Some days I wake up to the first couple chords of The Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” playing in the back of my brain. I’ll spend 20 minutes browsing flights on Kayak.com, you know, just for fun. My heart skips a beat after stumbling across a great deal on a one-way ticket to Thailand. This overwhelming sense of urgency turns me into an irrational gypsy. My inner monologue starts screaming: YOU’RE YOUNG, HEALTHY AND FREE OF ANY ATTACHMENTS! What are you waiting for? There is a great, big world out there and you’d be lucky to experience even the tiniest fraction of it before you die! Quit your job! Throw some clothes in a backpack! Just light all of your shit on fire and go get weird in Thailand!

Other days I’ll watch the sun setting over the Flatirons and stare at the pink sky until I feel like I have sufficiently saturated its beauty into my bones. I think about how grateful I am to be living here and all the opportunities it has afforded me. Stick around for another year or two. Start paying back your student loans. You literally work for one of your heroes; why leave and lose all of the progress you’ve made?

The thing is that I don’t know exactly what it is I’m chasing after. As Jack Kerouac brilliantly put it, “I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.”

Maybe that’s why I’m never satisfied with staying in one place, because traveling has taught me that there are an infinite number of life paths to choose from, each one offering a different realm of possibilities.

All I know is that I need to spend every waking second feeling alive – whether I’m hanging off a sandstone wall minutes away from my apartment or feeling incredibly inadequate because I’m lost in a place where I recognize nothing and don’t speak the language. I live for the moments when reality hits me with such intensity that I feel like I’m about to topple over and all I can think is, woah, this is life.

I live for those precious moments when hours of patience and determination result in breathtaking photographs. 

Immature Bald Eagle, Alaska

Patagonia

Wildebeest, South Africa

Leopard, South Africa

 Delicate Arch, Utah

Patagonia

Wildebeest, South Africa

As a photographer, I am very picky when it comes to my subjects. Whenever friends or family ask me to shoot a wedding, portrait, or some special event, it scares the living daylights out of me. I have this notion that photographing people carries with it tremendous baggage. Not once has a monkey complained that it was having a bad hair day, nor has a lion ever given me specific instructions to only photograph its left side because it is ‘more photogenic’ than its right. I’ve never been told to ‘scram’ when I aim the camera at an unsuspecting chipmunk, nor have I been shunned because none of the llama shots turned out the way the llama was expecting. Yes, I’ve been spit on, stepped on, snapped at, charged, rammed, pecked, and even pooped on, but I find all these animal antics much easier to deal with than that one unhappy client who didn’t get that picture perfect wedding shot.

 House Sparrow, Washington D.C.

Ring-tailed Lemurs, Nature Preserve, South Africa

I love the element of the unknown when shooting wildlife. I live for those precious moments when hours of patience and determination result in breathtaking photographs. Humans are predictable, controllable, and, well… let’s face it, not nearly as cute as baby penguins. Animals, on the other hand, are wild, spontaneous, and impulsive – their actions a result of intuition and instinct. In the wild the most ordinary of moments can, in a split second, become the award-winning instant a photographer dreams of. Long days spent tracking wildebeest through the hot desert lead to that one magical evening when the dust they rouse glows orange in the setting sun. Hours spent waiting for a sleeping leopard to wake pay off when it peeks up and snarls at a nearby gazelle. A morning spent admiring a penguin colony becomes a life changing experience when three baby chicks gather the courage to leave the safety of their peers and approach within a few inches of this mysterious spectator.

Gentoo penguins, Antarctica

Adelie penguin, Antarctica

If there’s one thing I’ve taken away as a photographer, it’s that the magic of the natural world is all around us.

The reward, however, comes to those who are patient.

Fur Seal, South Georgia

Annaupurna, Nepal

-Mitch

-Mitch

The destination: Spain. A freak opportunity had landed me in a climbing hostel for two weeks, and word on the street was the biking could be pretty good too. This brings us to my hour.

The three hours leading up to my hour involved pedaling through two wrong turns, consuming one Nutella sandwich, seeing a castle and a slogging my way up a Category 2 (read: steep) climb. I was scrutinizing the clouds congregating over the next pass when a couple of Germans, a father and son, came riding up behind me. (We can start the timer now).

They were pedaling beautiful vintage bikes, and the miles melted as we struck up a genial German-English conversation. We hit all the usual bases: Where are you from? Is it colder there? What do you think of Lance? This road is very steep. Would you like to adopt our dachshund?

Hold up… what?

Oh Ja. He is very intelligent. Very nice. Like… how you say… die wurst?

I didn’t want to adopt a dachshund- getting it through customs would be a nightmare- but it just so happened that the owner of my hostel really liked dogs. There were currently six happy canines bouncing around the place- all to my knowledge adopted or rescued. Maybe seven could be her lucky number? I communicated something like this to the Germans, and they seemed to get very excited. I was touched by how badly they wanted to find a home for the little guy.

By now we’d crested the top of the pass, and the clouds were just starting to leak. The father of the two, who I learned was named Joe (for Joaquin) suggested that we ride back to the last town, nearly fifteen kilometers downhill, before it really started to storm. He was worried about my lack of appropriate clothes, even after I showed him my jacket, and he insisted that if I went on I would be dangerously far from any help should something go wrong.

I was reluctant to backtrack. I prefer loops to out-n-backs, and I was more than halfway through the ride I’d planned. But rather than arrogantly pushing into the storm with my own agenda and ambition, I made an uncharacteristic decision to be a little less agro and simply take this German strangers advice. With a shrug I zipped up my jacket and turned around- that’s when the sky opened up.

The roads were terrible. Currents ran down the now-glossy pavement, and I could taste yesterday’s shampoo as rain poured from my helmet into my mouth. Strangely enough, none of this struck me as particularly troublesome; it was cold, but not too cold. The road was steep, but not too slippery. Olive orchards flew by, misty limestone cliffs looked on, and for nearly half an hour I allowed myself to be totally consumed with the joy of moving fast through a storm. I think the Joe and his son did too, or if they didn’t  at least we could all look out for each other.

Drenched and more than a little exhilarated, we finally rolled into a cafe for some hot drinks. We were just exchanging contact information for the future of their wayward wiener-dog when I noticed a couple from the hostel at a table nearby. To clarify: I was thirty kilometers from home base and two of maybe ten people I knew in the entire country happened to be having coffee at the same cafe. True, we’d all been driven indoors by the same storm, but I chose to take it as fate- if I’d pushed on I’d still be out there, shivering my way down the pass alone. Instead, I had new friends and a ride home. (Stop the clock.)

Two years ago I vowed I would never again pack a bike box, because cycling, to me, had become an unforgivable luxury. Why did I think I could make a life of essentially just playing outside when there’s so much serious work to be done in the world? How can anybody? Clearly the responsible thing, the mature thing to do, is to suck it up, put play second, and get down to business in life.

As far as I’m concerned, that’s the real business in life- but first you’ve got to bring the bike.

 

Photo Attributes
Feature Image by Meg Haywood Sullivan