I was at work in Los Angeles when I got a call from my partner about an adventure proposal – a last-minute road trip from Salt Lake City to El Paso with two of his co-workers through the American Southwest. He was working in Utah and had a week-long break as his company moved operations to Texas. As I stood in the hallway of my dreary, windowless office building, my mind immediately went in several directions.
“This trip sounds amazing and I NEED to be a part of it!”
“Will my job even allow me to leave on such short notice?”
“How expensive is this trip? Is this something I can financially afford to do?”
“Who cares how much it costs, I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure his co-workers are cool. After all, they seem to be as stoked for this trip as I am.”
“How can I know for sure that I will get along with them?”
I spent the rest of the day distracted from my work tasks, trying to decide what to do.
I’m sure you’ve faced similar dilemmas in your life. An opportunity presents itself that disrupts you from your routine, and now you’re at a crossroads. Maybe it’s big, like a career pivot or a chance to live abroad. Or maybe it’s something smaller, such as a spontaneous invitation to an adventure you weren’t expecting. In either case, I believe that these moments are vital in helping us evaluate what’s important.
My office job made sense from a financial and benefits standpoint, but it wasn’t professionally fulfilling and I loathed it most days. On the other hand, this trip represented the freedom and curiosity that I craved but would come with potential work and monetary repercussions. My initial instinct was to find a way to compromise. I could ask my supervisor to let me work remotely, squeezing in calls and meetings between marvelous viewpoints and natural wonders.
I quickly realized this idea was silly. Practically, we didn’t have the time or flexibility to spend most of each day working. And even if we did, internet access was unreliable, especially in more remote areas. But on a deeper level, I knew that it would be an injustice to the adventure if I didn’t give my complete, undistracted self to it.
So, after deliberating on what to do for a few days, I told my partner that I was all in. I spoke to my boss about taking some last-minute time off, pulled the cash I needed from my bank account, and in a few weeks was on a plane to Salt Lake City.
I arrived in Utah and hopped into a car with my partner and his co-workers. We had a long journey ahead of us, and I was equal parts excited and nervous about how it would unfold. We headed to our first stop, Arches National Park.
After a four drive, we parked at the surprisingly empty Delicate Arch trailhead parking lot. While this hike is normally very popular and tourist-heavy, the mid-day July heat seemed to scare off most of the visitors. But we were undeterred. With plenty of water and sunscreen in hand, we braved the 100-plus-degree Fahrenheit temperatures to see this magnificent work of nature. The arch was incredible, even better than I could have imagined. However, what truly stuck with me was, that despite the harsh conditions, we were all equally enthusiastic and ready for whatever the road trip would throw at us. At that moment, the concerns that flooded my mind after the initial phone call quickly dissipated into the expansive desert.
Over the next two days, we paddled on Lake Powell, explored desert slot canyons, and hiked through otherworldly terrain. We stumbled upon a French summer camp (to the amusement of one of our fellow travelers, who lives in France) and lost several meals out the back of our SUV. But, mostly, we drove, marveling through a car window at the slowly changing landscapes around us.
On day three, we worked our way to Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest, trading vast, wide-open vistas for dense, evergreen forests. There was a shift in the air as we arrived at our campsite at Luna Lake. No longer was it hot and dry – at nearly 8,000 feet above sea level, we happily filled our lungs with the brisk, pine-scented air.
We set up our tents and quickly ran into the lake. After days of sweltering, desert heat, the cool water was a welcome treat. Eventually, with the sun low on the horizon and the temperature starting to drop, we worked our way back to our campsite and promptly started a fire. As we cooked our meals over the open flame, we shared reflections from the trip, stories from our past, and goals for the future – a true moment of connection between four people brought together by a shared spirit of adventure. And when we finally crawled into our sleeping bags, the light pitter-patter of raindrops on our tents from an unexpected but welcome storm lulled us to sleep. It was a truly beautiful night and a memory I will never forget.
Work is important. Family and friends are important. Stability is important. But adventure is important too. It’s easy to downplay it as frivolous, inessential, a luxury. I’m also guilty of this. But it’s a shame. Because I believe that adventure is essential for a full life.
Adventure is part of what gives our existence flavor. It’s a driving force pushing us out of our daily habits and rituals. It brings us to grand and new places. It also challenges us and deprives us of our comforts, leaving us with just our ugly, beautiful selves. And in this raw state, we finally become open to the magic that is everywhere, grateful for the simple things. Running water. A hot meal. A place to sleep. Conversations with interesting people. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it will lead you to Salt Lake City, where you’ll hop in a car with two strangers and arrive at El Paso four days later as friends.
So the next time you feel called to an adventure, please don’t dismiss it. Instead, listen to that feeling. Cultivate it. Embrace it. And though it may seem scary, impractical, and inconvenient, please say yes to it. Because when you look back at your life, you don’t want to feel resentment and regret for what could have been. Instead, I hope you’re smiling, replaying the places you’ve seen, the people you met, and the life that you lived.
Adventure feeds our souls. Let it feed yours.
