A year from today, I will turn 40.
It will be a Sunday morning. So, I’ll start the day, doing something I love: praying then greeting guests with my buddies in our church’s parking lots. But right after that, I’ll speed home and grab my bags on the way to the airport. There, I’ll burn through some American Express points until I land in Ushuaia, Argentina (the southernmost city on the planet).
A day later, I’ll board the M/V Ortellius, a Polish-made former Russian research vessel, known for its ice-breaking capabilities. Two days later, after holing up with three strangers in a hull cabin, I’ll begin a six-day tour of Antarctica. I’ll get to try my hand at mountaineering, overnight snow camping, snow shoeing, polar sea kayaking, Zodiac touring, and photographing with professionals.
So why Antarctica? Why not a motorcycle, a skydive, or a dramatic career change?
I don’t need a midlife crisis, because I have a decent handle on who I am, who I want to be, and how much the distance between those two points is shrinking. I just want a big journey to celebrate a big milestone.
The arctic has been on my bucket list since high school.
When I wasn’t drawing concept cars in high school, I was drawing ideas for polar rescue vehicles. After a blizzard hit our rural home, I dug a road coarse for our go-kart and turned nocturnal laps in a -30º windchill. A decade later, I visited Alaska in January and then tried dog-sledding outside Duluth, MN. I was working my way toward that someday.
I like to vacation where crowds don’t go.
There’s a note of exclusivity to Antarctica—not a Mount Everest kind of exclusivity, just enough to make you more interesting at dinner parties and convention hallways. Even with all the derring-do represented in my social circles, none of my friends have been to the bottom of the world. So, even though thousands of people visit the frozen continent every year, I probably won’t run into many people back home who have.
Novelty is scientifically proven to keep us young.
I’m getting older, but that doesn’t mean I have be growing more sedentary. A series of new experiences in a new place will enrich my life. It will give me new ideas for blog posts. It will introduce me to like-minded acquaintances with their own stories. I like what G.K. Chesterton wrote: “The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” I go see new places in the world to see home in a fresh way.
My spiritual pathway is fed by natural wonders.
Of the various ways that I feel connected to my Creator, nature is the strongest. When I see intricate details, I marvel. When I experience powerful forces, I kneel. When I absorb beautiful moments, I soften. All of those sensations lead me to worship. Some of my most indelible moments with God over the past decade have occurred next to glaciers and mountains, raging rivers and rocky shorelines. Have you Google Imaged Antarctica!? That place is bursting with wonder.
Ironically, I recharge off the grid.
My day job drains me, as I juggle 30 to 50 projects at a time for weeks or even months on end. My volunteer positions and leadership responsibilities at church require a lot of physical and relational energy. The busyness of it all chokes introspection. When I travel beyond the reach of texts, emails, and phone calls, I gain a healthy distance from which to survey my life. When I go alone, I find the silence to finally hear my own thoughts and the freedom that refills my soul’s bucket.
November is a prime time to see Antarctica.
As we prepare for Thanksgiving here in the States, the bottom of the earth is awaking with the spring melt under longer, sunnier days. While the thermometer will read on the warm side for the coldest continent, I’ll still be able to see my breath dance in the air—one of my favorite things in life. Ice will be melting and cracking and moving—maybe even calving. (Also, my work is typically slower the second half of November, making it easier to ask my clients for time away from the office.)
I want to see climate change in person.
I’ve seen the famous Perito Moreno Glacier that’s been incredibly growing every year—moving toward civilization. I’ve also seen the quickly-shrinking glaciers of North America, South America, and Europe. (I’ve been told to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro now, if I want to stand atop it with snow under my boots.) I want to see how the polar region is holding up—and not just what Facebook links claim.
I’ll get the most elusive continent for my collection.
I’ve explored portions of five continents, and I have good opportunities to cross Asia off the list within the next few years. By bagging Antarctica, I’ll then make it much more possible to have stepped foot on all seven continents. It’s not at the level of downhill skiing, or running a marathon, or climbing the highest mountain on every one. But my name will go on a relatively-short list, albeit it an unwritten one.
How ‘bout you? Where are you dreaming of going someday? What is your Antarctica? And why? Tell me about it in the comments below.
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Stock image purchased from iStockPhoto.com.
Other photos linked to their respective sources.
