I’m coming to see an equation that is proving true time and again:
The harder something is = the more worthwhile it is
The other day, I took the kids on a boat to take a navigation of the Beagle Channel, the body of water that divides Tierra del Fuego, Argentina from Isla Navarino, Chile. Within these deep blue waters are a host of small, rock islands, several of which are home to marine wildlife.
The first island we stopped at was Isla Despard and it hosts a colony of cormorants, as well as many squas, and up to 20 other species of marine birds. A good handful of sea lions had also taken up residence there.
Next up was the island that most captured me, Isla de los Lobos (Sea Lion Island). Nothing more than a rocky outcrop in the middle of the channel, it was home sweet home to hundreds of the massive, adorably awkward, lounging marine mammals.
Lastly, we went around the Les Eclaireurs Lighthouse, which is a cheerful landmark with its bold red, in the middle of the cobalt blue channel and the slate gray and white mountains.
All in all, it was a lovely way to spend an afternoon, on board a modern Catamaran with 100 other passengers for a 2 ½ hour tour. We sat at a comfortable table inside the boat between islands or when we got too cold on deck, made use of the on-board bathroom facilities, and even sipped on hot drinks from the small cappuccino bar.
It was, however, a small disappointment to me after our adventure only two days earlier.
Walking with penguins
Unsure of what to expect for the 6 hour tour, I had packed water, as many snacks as possible, changes of clothes and warm weather accessories, and made the kids go pee 17 times knowing we had a long ride with no bathroom stops.
Our journey began with taking the bus to arrive at the tourist pier with 18 people, a tour guide and a bus driver. We hopped in and prepared for the 1 hour and 40 minute drive.
I knew the drive would be a bit windy, but was surprised when less than halfway into the drive, the tour guide said we’d be leaving the main road to take a winding, roller coaster, stomach-sickening, gravel road the rest of the way. My motion-averse stomach lurched at the prospect and I put a few more Motion Ease drops behind my ears and tried to focus on breathing deeply and looking straight ahead.
After what felt like forever, we arrived at Harberton Ranch, where we quickly boarded a small zodiac and sped off in the direction of Isla Martillo.
20 minutes later I was stepping onto a beach with black and white penguins as far as I could see.
Smiling ear to ear, my tummy finally calming down, I knew that the busy preparations of earlier in the day and the unexpected bumpy road were worth every minute (including the fact that we still had to turn back around and do it all over again).
Walking for that one blissful hour, surrounded by Magellanic and Gentoo penguins and their nests, literally sometimes at our feet, was immensely satisfying.
Watching my children revel in the experience, taking so much care to obey the tour guide by walking slowly and speaking quietly to respect the penguins in their natural habitat, was so gratifying.
It was a beautiful experience, one which I realized I would gladly endure hours of discomfort to be able to do all over again.
The thing is, when you pay less than half the price and ride on a cushy ship with a built-in coffee shop, you usually get an appropriately unadventurous adventure.
When you take the chance on the expensive tour from the only company that actually walks with the penguins (not just views them from a boat), where you spend 5 hours plus time preparing beforehand and taking buses with 4 kids by yourself just to get one hour living out a bucket list dream, what you get is a surreal experience that was worth the trouble and will remain a treasured memory forever.
The reward of doing hard things
Our entire family seems to be learning similar things, because as I write this, Ryan is in Antarctica on his long-awaited adventure tour (I wrote this a week ago, so he is actually back with us again now).
Taking a tour like this is a complicated thing, and I well remember the hours upon hours of phone calls and effort that went into researching the myriad options, as well as saving up to pay for his trip, then days forking out more cash then we expected, buying the necessary gear to keep him warm and dry.
Once he boarded the ship, he had to endure 2 days of nothing but endless blue-black ocean, along with a moderate dose of sea sickness and drowsiness to get to where he is.
But ahhh… where he is. I only wish I could be there with him. Here are snippets of his emails to me:
For the first couple of days I have been a bit seasick, and so have slept a lot, which is apparently one of the side affects of sea sickness. But I have still really enjoyed the trip so far. We are nestled tentatively in the center of the Drake Passage, while the ship makes it’s weary way to the white continent. It’s strange to look out the window and see nothing but deep blue as far as the eyes can see. This is a blue that I haven’t seen before, and is almost black indicating a depth the rivals the height of airplanes up ahead.
We’ve already seen tonnes of beautiful things… icebergs a deep turquoise blue, a Ukrainian science station, a couple of penguin colonies, many different seal varieties, and my favorite, humpback whales. The whales haven’t been too close yet – probably about 200 meters – but we’ve still been close enough to see their features and see them dive, which is breathtaking.
It seems to us that the harder-earned vistas and experiences are proving the most memorable and awe-inspiring.
This trip in and of itself is a year of doing hard things.
Yes, this year is a plethora of good things. It is a privilege, a blessing, a gift to travel like this.
Exhausted after over 20 hours on a bus
Travel is hard, too. These are some of the challenges of this year abroad:
- Leaving all of our friends and family behind, and missing important things we’d rather be there for, like babies and weddings and birthdays
- Aways being the foreigners, the odd ones out, the ones who can’t understand properly and make mistakes all the time
- For our kids, leaving their friends and playmates is especially difficult and sad at times, as well as not having their usual books, toys, beds, etc.
- Spending a year without anyone to watch our kids or allow us to take date nights (a year is a loooong time in that regard with four little ones!)
- For that matter, spending a year with each other only as our primary source of adult companionship. Of course, married couples naturally enjoy spending a lot of time together, but it’s different to never be able to go hang out with a friend, go to ladies group, talk with a guy over a beer, etc. and it creates a certain level of stress on the relationship
- Living out of a handful of backpacks, with a fraction of the things we’re used to having
- Enduring extremely long and wearisome days and nights of travel, by plane, train, bus, you name it.
- For me, facing my fears and anxieties during some of that travel time
- Pushing ourselves to our physical limits, due to a lack of transportation (always walking and carrying a lot of things), heat and humidity that we’re not used to (or cold weather, as it so happened this past two weeks), and sometimes the physical effort required to actually see and partake of the places that we’re visiting
It’s in those hard things, though, where we reach into the depths of ourselves and into the endless grace of God that we find strength and endurance and perseverance that we never knew could be ours.
We work together as a family to calmly cope with challenging physical situations seemingly endless bus rides and delays, overwhelming heat and humidity, exhausting walks with blistered feet, crowded and confusing public transit, lack of creature comforts, and the absence of Starbucks (I’m joking… but only a little).
Little by little, we see that when we choose a positive, can-do attitude, the hard things became less hard, and then sometimes, even non-existent.
Going up into the mountains, above 14,000 ft altitude, with our young kids and worryng about altitude sickness, having car troubles in our rental, getting stuck or lost somewhere, etc. were all things that kept me anxious prior to our trip to Salinas Grandes… and yet standing in this brilliant white and blue expanse was one of the highlights of the trip for me so far.
I learn that I can fight the anxiety that sometimes threatens to overtake my countenance and joy, and with each fearful circumstance or situation I walk through, my confidence and peace grows.
Abbie and Caden and Johanna learn to rely more heavily on each other as playmates and friends, as well as developing the courage and boldness to step out to meet people and establish new friendships, rather than feeling sad and sorry for themselves at the friendships they’ve left behind in Canada.
Ryan and I learn to extend grace and kindness to one another when we’re lonely and tired and culture-shocked, and we push into our struggles to deal with them head-on, since we’ve only got each other and we’ll ultimately grow in our relationship as a result.
Hard = Good?
No, this trip won’t always be easy, and sometimes it feels downright hard.
And don’t get me wrong. I don’t like it when things are hard, either. It’s uncomfortable. It’s scary. Sometimes it hurts.
But if hard is where we grow, change, learn, overcome, achieve, succeed, rise up, gasp in awe and amazement, and generally find the richer side of life, then I think I can safely say, bring it on.
