Evolving Our Ideas of Adventure Travel
Becoming okay with expecting more than the things we aren't okay with anymore.
Yesterday, my dear husband asked me to write a post for this blog about must-bring things for exploring Nicaragua. His entire list was this: a beer koozie and a butt cushion.
Trevor has all the best ideas.
So that’s what this post is about… sort of. I would add local currency, a reusable water bottle, a phone with data, and good walking shoes to the list. But aside from those common sense necessities, it’s true; our idea of “adventure” sure has changed. What we’re often looking for now, even in adventure travel, is convenience and comfort.
When Trevor was 28, he went to Europe for three months on a $30-a-day budget. Hostels, transportation, activities, and food all had to fit within that. He slept on trains and buses to save on accommodations and had lost some 40 lbs when he returned to Canada.
Similarly, in my early 20s, travel was all about rock-bottom budget finds. I took the Greyhound from Southern Ontario to Alberta (four excruciating days). Slept in the Edmonton bus station (one regretful night). Hitchhiked back to Ontario with my cousin, Adam, after 9/11 when airspace shut down, and we couldn’t find or afford any other way home (three epic days I’ll never forget).
Yesterday, we struggled to do a one-hour guided hike on mostly even ground in the 33-degree heat on Ometepe. Trevor did a crazy incline to a lookout point midway while I stayed down below, hiding in the shade of the jungle canopy.
There are multi-day options for visiting Ometepe, but we went for a fairly tame private guided tour, twelve hours door-to-door, with a few sightseeing stops, one hike, and plenty of time for an afternoon swim. We could retreat to the comfort of an air-conditioned vehicle between stops throughout the day (thank the goddesses). I don’t think either of us would have made it otherwise.
Often, when sharing stories and chatting with other travelers (as we do) in the different places we go, we get “tips” like these:
“Oh, you took a taxi?! It’s way cheaper by bus.”
“There’s a hostel on that strip that’s way more affordable.”
“That’s a long time just to get from A to B. You don’t have to spend a night partway; there’s a more direct flight.”
All of these things may be true, and yet those aren’t the choices we’re making these days. The needs of middle-aged travelers or midlife nomads are often unique, and I can’t help but feel a lot of experiences are still designed for three specific groups: youth, families, and seniors. We are none of those things, and so we adapt.
We may not want to fold ourselves up into economy seats for a marathon stretch of flights, and now we can afford not to. We might need to stop en route somewhere, limit our driving to 4-5 hours a day, and get where we’re going a few days later. We might spend a bit more on the hotel with the comfier mattress so we can each walk the next day without aching.
We’re still working… we aren’t retired, and do have some time constraints and other people relying on us for various things – parents, children, businesses, pets, employers, and employees. We cannot often go off-grid and disconnect from life for weeks at a time.
At the same time, we’re no longer machines able to go for 36 hours on coffee and energy drinks, either. As my friend Ann Douglas would say, we’re in the Messy Middle.
Coming to terms with our limitations has been difficult. I’m still struggling to accept my bone and joint issues as permanent fixtures rather than obstacles to be overcome. And with Trevor’s diabetes, fatigue and neuropathy are ongoing challenges he cannot ignore.
But even before the health and mobility issues, our travel style had evolved. We don’t do hostels anymore unless we can get a decent private bed and bath. I’m not there to clean up after anyone or serve as Den Mother, and getting a poor night’s sleep can put a serious damper on plans for the next day.
We aren’t a fan of those overnight bus or train trips anymore. I had a brilliant idea to book the Sleeper Bus from Wellington to Auckland, New Zealand, for my 39th birthday. What an adventure, right? We’d fall asleep in one city and wake up in another.
What isn’t clear on the website (or at least, it wasn’t then) is that you’re actually three people to a bunk. I bought two tickets, thinking that secured us the top hammock bed and the bunk below, and was subsequently horrified when we boarded and were informed that got us the bottom two spots on the bunk. The hammock above was a revolving door for chip-munchers, snort-snorers, crumb-flingers, and fart-dusters who joined my husband and I throughout the night.
At each new town, one snack monster would pack up, wipe himself off, and rain leftover Burger Rings down upon us. Please, no… I prayed, fingers and toes crossed. Surely, no one is up at 2am wanting to board this bus.
But sure enough, another would arrive to take his place, wedging his foot into the corner of our overcrowded bunk and plunking himself into the hammock, settling in to unwrap a late-night meal of Cameo Cremes.
Worst. Birthday idea. Ever.
The situation on the Wellington to Auckland “sleeper” bus that night… it was grim, friends. It was cramped, and crumby, and noisy, and ripe with other people’s smells.
And so we were ejected at an Auckland city park at 6am, bleary-eyed and exhausted, poor Trevor just trying to unfold himself so we could find our pre-booked hostel. As for how that went, see above re: we don’t do hostels anymore.
Our adventures today are slower-paced, with a definite prioritization of comfort and convenience over thrills. Our ideas of what we need to get out of those experiences have changed, too.
For the longest time, vacation time and adventures were rewards for working too much. I don’t know how many of you have experienced this, but I always felt more stressed out by upcoming vacation time because it meant an extra crushing workload before I left and upon my return. It didn’t seem possible in my jobs (and definitely not in my own business) to walk out the door, turn off the lights, set an autoresponder, and truly disconnect from work for a week or two.
Today, work needs to fit into the lives we’re trying to have. I watched my father work his ass off for over 50 years, literally leaving it all on the table, only to have two heart attacks and die of cancer before his 65th birthday. There are no guarantees here – not of retirement savings, healthcare, housing, or even that we’ll make it that far.
So, our adventures now more likely involve taking in as much as we can of new places, people, and cultures rather than rushing through to tick a place off on the map.
Our adventures today are bird watching, sailing, taking a slow walk, snorkeling, or checking out which bugs live in this forest or that. Adventures are a delicious meal or a cooking lesson with friends, old or new. They’re a delightfully fresh dip in a natural body of water, or a slow and deliberate conversation in another language.
Adventures fit in around nap times, family time, and work.
We’re conditioned in many ways to feel guilty for wanting more. It’s become almost a badge of honour to work 50 to 70 hours a week and take as little vacation or personal time as possible. Our self-worth is measured in units of output. And don’t you dare talk about your own happiness when others are going without! “Eat your dinner – children are starving in Africa!” Remember that, my fellow children of the 70s and 80s?
And yet your discomfort and sacrifice no more benefit others experiencing misfortune than our parents’ scolding put food on African tables.
This is another way our ideas around adventure travel have evolved. It doesn’t have to be an escape from a life that doesn’t serve you. We don’t need to seek the approval and permission of others to choose a different way. You weren’t meant to sit in a chair and push buttons until you die, and if the grind of neverending work and bills seems overwhelmingly depressing, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. It’s because that shit is depressing.
Wanting and feeling you deserve more – more happiness, better health, stronger relationships, a balanced life all around – doesn’t make you the weirdo. We’re conditioned from childhood to accept our lot without complaint; it’s even a cute nursery rhyme for public school kids: “You get what you get, and you don’t get upset.”
We tell each other, “But at least you got to…”
“Just be thankful you were able to…”
“A lot of people never get that chance, so don’t complain…”
Bull. You’re not a bad person or ungrateful for wanting a better life for yourself and asking for it out loud. Get upset. Push back against discomfort. If the way you’ve been told to do this whole life thing isn’t working (and it’s not, for so many of us; the North American Dream has proven a lie), try it another way.
Ask for better – seek it out, prepare for it, tell yourself you deserve it until you truly believe it. You probably can’t run away and live on vacation, but you can build a life you don’t need to run away from to bury yourself in all-you-can-eat buffets and bottomless drinks once a year.
Our idea of an adventure has evolved. We pack pillows, Ibuprofen, compression socks, and essential medications – and yes, beer koozies. Because when I’m having a drink, I want it to stay cold, dammit. Convenience matters. Comfort matters. And we’re becoming okay with asking for both.
I really enjoyed this. And yes, made me think of my own travels (with you) this year. Great to see a column on middle-age travel. Great read.