“Start seeing some of the great work that God has done. . . You will see things and meet people and there is much to learn from them. And you must do it economy style, no motels, do your own cooking, as a general rule spend as little as possible and you will enjoy it much more immensely.” – Chris McCandless, Into the Wild
This is a blog about adventure; as a concept and as a weekend.
I’ve always loved adventure. My siblings and I have grown up camping and hiking, exploring and long boarding. I wouldn’t say that I’ve developed an adventurous spirit while being on the Race, because its something that’s been instilled in me by my parents. But I have grown in my understanding of adventure since being on the Race. I’ve learned to see adventure in every moment, and to experience it in a new way—to feel it in a sense. That doesn’t mean immaturely running into danger, but it is a willingness, almost an eagerness, to go through discomfort to find beauty. I think that’s the way the Lord intended for us to be. He’s made us to desire new horizons, to see His creation in its fullness and experience it with other people. He’s surrounded us by beauty and given us hearts that come alive in seeing His beauty. There’s something solemn about seeing God’s creation in solitude, but there’s so much joy in sharing those moments with others—not even to discuss or understand God’s beauty, but simply to witness it with another soul. Discomfort isn’t necessary for adventure, but it often marks the path we have to follow to find it. This weekend, we decided to seek discomfort.
We went to the ocean, beautiful black sand beaches, massive waves curling under themselves a few feet from shore. To an extent I’m in a battle with my flesh—more so wanting to be able to rise above circumstance and discomfort—so, we decided to rough it this weekend. Blake Bohning (Bee) and I brought a ziplock bag filled with beans and another one filled with rice for all our meals. We had enough food, but it wasn’t very good. It was enough to feel full, but not satisfied. It didn’t ward off hunger pains for very long, nor provide enough energy to offset the calories burned from swimming. To avoid any temptation to buy outside food, the only money we brought for the weekend was 20 quetzals (a little under $3) that was quickly spent on 6 liters of water.
Several of the guys also decided to leave our tents at home, forcing us to sleep under the stars. I’ve never camped without at least a tent and our last attempt to do so was rained out, forcing us into our rooms. So, this weekend was our second chance. It also held the promise of a night sky without light pollution to block out the stars.
We spent our days under the sun, staring down waves that reached several feet above our heads. My mind felt fried from the mix of our diet, sunburned skin, and wave-beaten bodies. After the beach, I lay in a hammock for most of the day. I didn’t read much like I had originally planned. I just thought and talked with friends and other hostel stayers.
That night was one of the best of my life. We watched the sunset over the ocean, then went back and laid in the hammocks. Five of the guys talked for hours as the last glimpses of sunlight slowly faded. We talked still longer while stars began to steadily appear across the sky. Before the sky had reached its full grandeur, sleep took us as we made our way to our sleeping pads that lay beneath a palm tree. I fell asleep staring at a coconut that hung above my head, asking the Lord that I wouldn’t meet an untimely demise at the hands of a falling fruit. I fell asleep to hostel music playing and people talking about thirty yards from my bed.
Blake Sellers woke me several hours later. He was looking at the stars. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and put my glasses on. Stars now filled the sky. The hostel lights were off, the lights from the closest town had died down. There was no light pollution to cover up the beautiful pinpricks that filled the sky. I lay my head down on my pillow and looked at the stars between the overhanging palm fronds. I was about to go to back to bed when a shooting star crossed overhead, leaving a white streak across the night sky. The streak faded over several seconds. Then I fell asleep again and slept late into the morning.
As Chris McCandless, the true-to-life protagonist of Into the Wild, drew close to death, he scrawled in the margins of one of his books the conclusion he’d come to after his solo trip to Alaska. “HAPPINESS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED” he wrote in bold letters. God’s given us hearts for adventure and hearts for people to share that adventure with. I’ve been blessed immensely to live a life of beach weekends, beans and rice, and sleeping cowboy-style under the stars. I’m blessed even more so to have amazing, godly men to share this with. I walked away from this weekend with sunburnt skin and a rumbling stomach, but I walked away with one of the best weekends of my life.
