Why adventure, John?

 

You may have heard about the Fun Scale. There's Type I Fun where things are fun when you're doing them and fun in retrospect. Think drinking margaritas, skiing on fresh powder, or having sex with someone you love. Type II fun is generally miserable while you're doing it, but enjoyable in retrospect. Think running a marathon, hiking through the Grand Canyon, or maybe for women, bearing and raising children! Type III fun is not fun at all. Not while you're doing it and not afterwards. Think bad relationships, or any activity where you say to yourself, "why the hell am I doing this? And shoot me if I ever do it again". The only redeeming aspect to Type III fun is the possibility that there could be a silver lining or some valuable lesson learned that's useful in the future. 

My whole life, I've been a Type II Fun junkie. I love the challenge of difficult things. As a kid I loved going camping with Marine Sgt. Stanfield, our boy scout troop leader. Stanfield was a different kind of scout leader, because his trips always involved elements of danger and uncertainty. I especially recall a weekend trip to the Grutas de Cacahuamilpa, one of the largest live cavern systems in the world, where formations are still evolving and being shaped by underground rivers. We spent three days in utter darkenss, alternately hiking and swimming our way through dozens of salons, and camping in the dark on subterranean beaches. We carried our gear in special flotation tanks, both to keep our "shore clothes" dry and to keep us afloat in the longer deep river sections. Sometimes the water was so deep and the roof of the caves so low that here was barely enough space for us to keep our heads above water as we navigated to another cave beach. To get to the entrance of the cave system, we had to rappel ourselves and our gear down a 100' cliff. Epic! I'm amazed they allowed teenage boys to do those trips! There were ample opportunities for severe injury or even death.

Spelunkers navigating a salon at Grutas de Cacahuamilpa

When I graduated from high school, I took a gap year and went to live in Nome, Alaska, way up on the northwest coast, 1,000 miles from nowhere. What a great adventure. I had never met or even spoken to any of the people I came to know there (and still communicate with!). I had no idea what I was in for before going, or what that year would entail for me. But I blindly went and had an amazing experience that is as vivid to me today as when I did it 44 years ago. Dog sledding along the shores of the Bering Sea. Fly-ins into small arctic Eskimo villages to record and archive their traditional music. Living in a one room cabin with no electricity or running water. Eating seal, walrus, and muktuk (whale blubber). Walking along the rooftops of houses buried so deeply in snow drifts that all you could see was their chimney stacks.

My Alaska cabin

I continue to crave adventure. I've done countless hiking trips into and across the Grand Canyon. Each one its own unique adventure, modified by terrain, weather, and companions. I've done long bicyling trips with my best friend Dale. Over the past two summers we rode our bikes 1,100 miles around lake Michigan. Our trip was loosely planned. We didn't know what to expect, how difficult or easy it would be, or what we would encounter from one day to the next. I've gone blue water wreck diving with my kids. Each of these things was difficult, scary in its way, and fraught with risk. They were frequently unpleasant and difficult in the moment, but always amazing in retrospect.

Wreck diving in the BVI
with Henry & Jane

Rim-Rim-Rim with Karla
 in the Grand Canyon

Tour de Comfort Inns around
Lake Michigan

So, leukemia is a new adventure for me. Maybe this is going to be Type III Fun? This is not an adventure I would have chosen. But in much the same way as all the others, it will be it's own journey. The destination uncertain. There will definitely be danger. There will be times when I think I cannot keep going, and I will want to quit. There will be lots of advances and setbacks. And hopefully, along the way and the end of the road there will be opportunities to be grateful for the experience, to find contentment, joy, and perhaps to even gain an ounce or two of wisdom.

So let the adventure begin!