The Te Araroa Was Great but What Happened to the Rest of 2020?

To say 2020 didn’t quite go the way most people planned would be an understatement. Along with travel restrictions and lockdowns, loved ones were lost, weddings cancelled, and ordinary life completely disheveled.

After returning from New Zealand, I struggled in finding a new normal. I stopped working on my travel blog and did my best to separate myself from social media. I just needed a break from it all, a moment to reset and find balance, but I wasn’t quite sure how.

It was a difficult journey but beautiful in countless ways. I’ve got a lot planned for 2021, but for now I’ll do a quick flash back on the limited travels of the Ambitious Explorer during 2020.

Hiking Big Bear

Hiking was my solace, my window back to a time when life was simpler. When couscous, cheese wraps, and chocolate bars were the normal fare, and my only responsibility was to the pack on my back and the track under my feet. I missed the freedom, the adrenaline rush of summiting a challenging peak, the constant sheen of sweat denoting a day well spent.

Since the PCT passes through Big Bear I spent a lot of time trekking southbound, running into the occasional thru-hiker and stopping for a short chat. They were mostly green, in the bliss of week three of their first multi-month hike, but already they understood the lifestyle, the bodies embracing the daily rigors of the trail. Each meeting lifted my spirits, opening a window into the five-months I spent traipsing through New Zealand.  

Aside from the PCT I explored familiar haunts such as Cougar’s Crest, Butler’s Peak, Skyline, Bluff Lake, and Castle Rock. Occasionally I was joined by other’s, but mostly I relished the intimacy with nature that came with a solo hike.

One trail I had never completed but had heard a lot about was Sugarloaf Mountain. After the first go I understood why a lot of people only hike it once and instantly regretted not having used it as a pre-TA training route. The trail was a continuous uphill climb, with false summits, rocky terrain, and minimal switchbacks.

However, of all the local trails the penultimate hike of 2020—the TA obviously superseding this as the ultimate—was San Gorgonio. Along with my friends Karl and Tyler, I finally summited the 11,503 ft (3,506 m) peak. It took us a good eleven hours including a prolonged lunch break, an accidental detour the involved the finding old plane wreckage, and a photo shoot at the top.

We had discussed doing it again later in the year, but conflicting schedules and a series of forest fires prevented the plan from becoming a reality.

When I Wasn’t Hiking

To be clear, hiking was not the only thing that occupied my time in Big Bear. Every few weekends I would meet with former coworker/current friends for happy hour at Dank Donuts—a fun little place with plenty of outdoor seating and a chill atmosphere. We were often the last people on the patio, taking away the daylight and enjoying tasty treats.

A large portion of time was spent at home with my mother and the pets—those animals are so adorable it almost breaks my heart. Sabrina, the cat, was the antithesis of productivity. She would curl up in my lap and remain there for hours, sleeping so peacefully that disturbing her was simply out of the question.

I took advantage of the summer by taking lazy lake days, partaking in socially distanced walks, meeting for outdoor bites to eat, and visiting with my bubble.

One of the most exciting events during my time in Big Bear was my friend Chay moving back to the area. I am profoundly grateful for all the time we spent together, the long chats, the coffee breaks, the study dates, the further deepening of our friendship, and all the cuddles with her adorable new puppy.

Colorado

Rain couldn’t stop us from hiking up to the reservoir, nor the biting cold that sipped the warmth from my fingertips. The forest whistled with the wind’s secrets, passing them through the trembling branches. Without the embrace of the sun we were only able to stay on the beach—damp from the sky’s tears—for a few minutes, just long enough to snap a photo or two.

Without the heat of climbing to support us, the descent proved body-trembling cold. I sighed with relief once we reached a downturn that shielded us from the elements, feeling the blood pulsing in my cheeks as they fought to regain sensation.

We stopped at a pub for a post-hike beer, before taking our lunch under a gazebo in the middle of a quaint community pond. I can’t say we warmed up at all, but at least my hands had started working again.

Originally Bro (my best friend) and Bryan (her partner) were meant to meet me in New Zealand after I finished the Te Araroa. Unfortunately, Covid left them with cancelled flights and me without their company. I think I was looking at flights to Colorado before I even booked a flight to leave NZ.

I knew a second visit was in order once I made the decision to move to the UK at the end of the year.

We embarked on a second hike, this time accompanied by the sun, though the breath of winter was already consuming the land. It was a good climb up to the viewpoint, where we took a snack break and enjoyed in the richness of the surrounding landscape. Our snacking was interrupted by a precocious chipmunk, who crawled right up into Bro’s hand in search of snacks. It left disappointed, poor thing.

Back in the warmth of the house we enjoyed a pumpkin themed night, in honor of Halloween. There was a smorgasbord of pumpkin ginger beer, pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pasta, pumpkin crackers and cheese, and pumpkin cookies. Bro’s sister joined us for the carving and scary movies as well.

By the time I left my heart was full and happy.

Northern California

Shortly after I arrived in California, my cousin offered to let me borrow her spare car for the duration of my stay. So, I hitched a ride with her up to Northern California and spent the next week and a half visiting with friends and family.

Davis was quite different from the university I once attended. Restaurants that were once served as my regular stopping grounds were boarded up and empty. Dorms that once served as my home were supplanted by construction sites and high-rise buildings with modern architecture. It was still Davis, but not the Davis of my past; this was a newer version, keeping with the evolutionary demands of time.  

With multiple fires burning throughout California smoke followed me on my adventures, including a hike with my friend Morgan to a glacier lake in Tahoe. The cool water nipped at my skin, but eventually gave up in vain, allowing my body to acclimate as I swam out to a modest island in the center of the pool. We monopolized on our remaining time together with introspective chats, Netflix, and yummy home-cooked food.

My last stop was in Napa to stay with my friends Laura and Dylan. Although they had paid a visit to Big Bear earlier in the year, it was still so wonderful getting some more quality time with them. In fact, the conversation and company were so great that I ended up extending my trip.

When fall came to an end, I drove up Highway 1 to return the car. Following the narrow winding roads along the rugged California coastline, I felt transported. In my mind I had imagined a long busy highway overlooking the ocean, curving gracefully like calm waves on a tranquil beach. The reality was quite different; the road hugged the cliffs like moss desperately clinging to the side of a tree. It reminded me of driving up to Big Bear, except instead of tapering valleys and forests of pine, I was surrounded by endless water and steep ledges.

Big Sur is said to be the most beautiful part of this drive, a convergence of the deep blue ocean and the rustic green and red forest. Unfortunately, the winter sun had set long before I arrived in the redwoods and I was left with a lingering motivation to return someday.

Mike and Eliza welcomed me with open arms. It had been several years since we last saw each other, but as with all intimate friendships, we picked things up right where we left them. The weekend was spent dodging rainstorms, hiking ravines, and eating a variety of delicious foods.

With promises of seeing each other soon, I departed and drove through Tahoe and into the Nevada outskirts. As Wayne Dyer podcasts kept me company, I enjoyed the untouched beauty of the snowy landscape, and prayed the route ahead would not prove too icy.

Morgan and I decided against a hike due to the prospect of cold, wet feet, electing to walk along the shores of Lake Tahoe and watch dogs eagerly launch themselves into the frigid waters to retrieve rouge tennis balls. Eventually we found a place to sit and talked the day away, reminiscing, reflecting, and expanding upon the occurrences of life.

I made a quick appearance in Davis again, to see my friends Evan and Courtney. I walked pretty much everywhere, noting the significant increase in people since school was back in session—though still predominantly remote.

Next thing I knew I was on my way back to Napa and easing into the familiar company of Laura and Dylan. Nothing felt rushed or forced. All the visits fell into a natural rhythm, the conversations seeming to lead themselves, and we the instruments of their intention.

It’s difficult to describe the sensation of absolute belonging and rightness and yet equally simple. Difficult because if you haven’t experienced it, you might not be able to comprehend, and simple because once you have, you can recall it acutely. It is overwhelmingly peaceful, to exist in that moment, with nothing else on your mind but enjoying the present. It is the epitome of wholeness and belonging.

Internal Travel

Upon returning to Big Bear after the first trip to NorCal, I sat down and created a morning ritual, beginning each day with a meditation, foreign language study, and non-fiction reading. This was followed by a healthy breakfast, a podcast walk—thank you Laura for introducing me to the beauty of podcasts—and yoga. I often find strict routines difficult to adhere to but seemed to glide into this one as naturally as breathing.

As the weeks passed the negativity of the world, including Covid, began to drift away. Each day became beautiful and precious, each moment worthy. I found myself feeling guilty when others complained about how horrible the year was because I no longer shared their animosity and pessimism.

Yes, it was a hard year, but any year is difficult when we focus on the negatives. Somehow, I had found a silver lining and latched on to it, dragging myself out of the ashes of disappointment, despair, and unmitigated anger.

I applied for my UK visa, booked flights, edited one novel, started two others, opened a copywriting business, endeavored to be a better human, and deepened existing friendships.

Life goes on, whether we are ready for it or no. It’s up to us to decide if we are going back and watch it slip through our fingers—waiting for someone or something to make it all better—or to confront it head on by finding new meaning, embracing the silver linings, and redefining where we find joy.