By nature, I am an adventure junkie. Exploring the Wasatch Mountains behind my home, cliff diving in Lake Powell, scouting in the greater Yellowstone area, rock climbing and mountain biking in and around Canyon Lands and Arches National parks fill the best memories of my youth. In my early adulthood, I enjoyed running wild rivers and fly-fishing in the wilderness areas of Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana. More recently, I’ve backpacked the Bridger-Teton National Forest and Wind River Range with my son for summer vacations and shared more memories with him skiing both sides of the Tetons in the winter. My current passion is ultra-endurance gravel and mountain bike racing in around the Grand Tetons. These are the adventures that make the fabric of my life, and they have sustained me with breathtaking sunrises, sunsets, blizzards, starry skies, endless horizons, unforgettable landscapes, and a wealth of experience.
Planning for adventures, while experiencing them, and afterwards when attempting to make sense of them, my life seems to effortlessly flow because I feel satisfied. In the seasons of life when I have not made time for adventures, I've felt soul sick. In addition, my observations are that in these undesirable life circumstances, I tend to be less connected, more withdrawn, quicker to become irritated with others, less caring, and detached. I've also found myself obsessing and yearning for great adventures like those seen on television.
Lately, however, I've come to the conclusion that this is largely unnecessary to climb Everest or heli-ski in Alaska. My recent discovery of Cold Water Canyon on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail brought this concept in to sharp focus. About a month ago, I needed to visit my father, daughter, and in-laws in Ogden, Utah. Instead of riding familiar sections of trail I had spent time biking on previous visits, I researched and planned to explore a new ride. After a lung busting 2000-foot climb, I was rewarded with adrenaline pumping single-track, the company old growth conifers, and the view of a lifetime. This made me aware of the possibility that I am the happiest when I have these unexpected experiences. But, how does family man with responsibilities satisfy a persistent case of wanderlust? The solution is simple: micro adventures!
My plan to enjoy the prospects of adventures on a regular basis can be summed up as follows:
M-Plan for monthly, miniature adventures. (Bimonthly adventures should be even better for my mental health if they are well-planned events.)
I –By scheduling my experiences so they are interconnected with activities that are friendly with events around time spent with family and friends, these adventures are more likely to be compatible with family life, work, and other demands.
C-This type of adventuring requires creativity. Research and planning are essential requirements to pull off micro adventures.
R-Another consideration is that these exploits are realistic & reasonable. In my situation, they must respect my financial limitations, time constraints, and family considerations.
O-An important trait I’ve developed that allows me to pull of micro adventures is to be opportunistic. Recently when I needed to go grocery shopping in Idaho Falls, I searched the Internet for information about single-track trails in the area to which I had planned to travel. In the process, I discovered a top-rated destination for mountain biking in the vicinity of my shopping. Even though the trail was closed, I came across the 7n Bike Park. Since riding in such a place was experience I had not yet enjoyed, I took advantage of the opportunity to have a new experience, and it was great fun.
Planning more adventures near the home might seem a little less spectacular, but it’s certainly more practical and sometimes incredibly rewarding. Just imagine how exciting it is to always have another new experience on the horizon!
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