The thrill of adventure
The best button ever invented for the Internet was the YouTube “skip ads” button. I use it quite often. I keep a close watch as the seconds count down, and hit the button as soon as possible. Ads are a necessary evil, I will admit, but they are evil just the same.
But I saw an advertisement the other day that caught my attention, and so I let it play out until the very end. Over scenes of a gray and cold Scandinavian winter, the gravelly voice of what could only have been an old Norwegian fisherman said the following:
“This past year has felt like a long, long Norwegian winter. Over the decades, there have been some stormy ones, but curiosity always got the better of us and we ventured out anyway. Eventually, with spring comes rebirth. The sun warms the earth, spirits soar, everything begins anew. And many of us realize a fundamental human need to connect with other like-minded people and discover what lies beyond the horizon. Welcome back, to the world.”
Coupled with the other-worldly scenes of winter turning into spring, I thought it the absolutely perfect sentiment of our pandemic times. But then another voice, much younger, perky and privileged, ruined it all by saying this: “Exploring the world. In comfort.”
In comfort? Really? Did Leif Erickson explore the world “in comfort”? Did Louis and Clark? Marco Polo? I dare say not! It’s the discomfort that makes the exploration that much more meaningful and worthwhile.
Take for instance explorer Matthew Henson (1866-1955). Henson trekked across the arctic several times with Robert Peary in search of the North Pole. On one trip, the team was starving and had to eat some of their sled dogs. On another trip, six Inuit team members died of starvation and exposure. But in 1909, on their eighth attempt, Peary and Henson reached their objective, with Henson planting the American flag at the top of the world.
Of course, I’m not suggesting “discomfort” should always include canine casserole and frosty fatalities, but you have to admit it makes the achievement that much more heroic and momentous.
Exploring deserves a certain level of discomfort: You’re half way across the desert, but run out of gas; you cross a border and have no idea how to speak the language; you’re trekking through Mongolia and a family of goat herders invites you over for goat testicle stew; you’re drenched with rain, sweaty from the heat, you’re feet are sore, you’re hungry, you smell. Now THAT’S the way exploring should be done!
I think I’d be too embarrassed to admit that I landed on the shores of Cambodia to explore the Preah Vihear temple and hike through the Cardamom Mountains, but made sure I was back onboard the ship in time for dinner because I’d been invited to eat roasted duck at the captain’s table. And afterwards, went out to see a Broadway show then played a round or two of miniature golf.
SHE: “But honey, it’s all inclusive. And if we don’t want to get off at such-and-such port, we don’t have to. With 10 decks, 15 bars, shopping, eating, dancing, musicals, ice skating, swimming, gambling – shoot, I’ll bet’cha it would take more than one cruise just to discover everything on just one ship. Now THAT’S my kind of exploring!”
HE: But dear, you have to admit it would be so much more adventurous and romantic to work our way across the Pacific Ocean on a container ship, and when we cross the equator, get matching shellback turtle tattoos. Yes? Maybe? Maybe you’ll think about it?”
And the sound of silence was deafening.