I‘m attracted to comfort. There’s a magnetic pull towards comfort that’s so pervasive I’m hardly aware of its influence. What I’m discovering, however, is that my peak life experiences are never found squarely in comfort. They aren’t found in discomfort either. Rather, my peak experiences are found somewhere balanced on the edge. Peak experiences are those times that excite me and scare the heck out of me. It’s something I want to experience, but I’m anxious or scared – not sure I’m up to the challenge or discomfort. It’s usually something I’m excited about and boldly say, “Heck yes! I’m all in.” And then days or weeks later wonder, “What was I thinking? Why did I agree to this? Am I really going to do this?”

My stomach starts to tighten and I feel a little nauseous. Am I getting the flu? I have trouble sleeping. I think of all the worst case scenarios and all the reasons this isn’t good, the timing is wrong, something terrible could happen, and on and on my mind turns. On top of concrete fears there is the nameless fear of – something – I’m never exactly sure what. Although the voices of caution and doomsday are convincing at the time – I’ve learned to acknowledge these thoughts – but not believe them.

Here they are again as I prepare for a week long ‘bucket list’ dream adventure of hiking and rafting through the Grand Canyon with my 25 year old daughter, Kayla. I know these thoughts are trying to keep me in comfort and safety. But I want to live bigger than that. I want to push myself a little. I know that moving outside of my comfort zone is where I’ll find my challenges and growth – and possibly my peak experiences. So I move ahead, trying as best I can to keep the anxiety at bay. But my typical pre-adventure anxiety is doubled by the fact that I’ve gotten my daughter into this. She’s not much of a camper. Neither am I actually. I’ve done crazy adventures like spending the night in the jungle of Laos, sleeping in a tree house 100 feet off the ground. But even then we had a shower, toilet and running water on the lower level of the tree house. Who cares that it was open air? No one but the Gibbon Apes had a view. So that’s not really roughing it at all! This adventure would be different.

I never explained much about the trip to Kayla and she didn’t ask, happy to have a paid for vacation. As a result, she wasn’t much worried about it. It fell to me to worry for her. I ordered rain gear for her. She took one look at it and decided to search for something a little more fashionable. After work one day she went click click clicking along the concrete floors of REI in her high heel shoes – noting a definite opportunity for better fashion design in outdoor clothing. After much trying on, she finally found something that she could be comfortable in. I asked, “Is it waterproof?” She said, “Mom, I’m pretty sure everything at REI is waterproof!” I inspected the gear and noted it was quick-dry, but not waterproof. She needed the quick-dry pants, but I insisted she still pack the rain pants I bought her. Then she pulled out a very stylish green raincoat. One look at it and I judged it to be inadequate. “But Mom, it SAYS it’s waterproof!” “Yes, I’m sure it is in a light rain, but I doubt it will hold up to buckets of water being thrown at it in the rapids. How about you test it in the shower?” She wasn’t about to go through all that, so we compromised on her testing it under the kitchen faucet. She said afterwards her arm was only slightly damp. I insisted she bring both jackets, the one I’d bought her, and the one she bought, knowing full well that if the cute green jacket didn’t hold up, I’d be sharing mine. After lots of packing decisions, weighing our bags to stay within the 25# weight limit, and then repacking – again and again – we eventually were as ready as we’d ever be for our rafting adventure.

Walking the PathUpon arriving at Lee’s Ferry, the start of our trip, we packed our duffel bags into dry bags, had them loaded on the raft, donned life jackets and then climbed aboard. After the first blast of 50-degree water from the Colorado River, fashion didn’t matter much. We pulled the hoods of our functional rain gear tight around our faces, looking ridiculous, but we didn’t care. We’d do anything to keep the ice water from going down our backs, chilling us to the core. I never once saw the cute green jacket come out of Kayla’s bag.

After the bracing, but kind of exhilarating experience of a wall of ice-cold water being blasted into our faces repeatedly and often unexpectedly, the river guides eventually pulled our raft into shore and informed us it was time for our first potty break. Men were instructed to pee upstream on the left side of the raft. Women were told to wade into the freezing water on the right side of the raft, pull our pants down and pee into the river. Unlike men who’ve been peeing for years in urinals alongside other men, women aren’t used to peeing in front of each other. That in and of itself was uncomfortable – let alone the fact that any man who chose to look our way would see it all. They were on the honor system – and I quickly realized it wasn’t a sight anyone would really want to see anyway – so I let that worry go. But then there was the issue of trying to pee in ice-cold water. It’s kind of hard to relax the muscles that need to be relaxed. Clearly this was a skill that would need honing over the course of the week.

That first night we set up camp, excited for our first experience of sleeping out under the stars. Our ‘camp’ consisted of a cot, which was a bit of a brainteaser puzzle to assemble each night. Tents were available but mildly discouraged. That first night the guides demonstrated how to put the tent together – and then asked if anyone wanted it. No one did, so it was set aside. We were also given little plastic pails for peeing in at night. They didn’t want us stumbling in the dark to pee in the river.

Walking the PathKayla and I lay on our cots that night, admiring the stars and waiting for sleep to come. For me it pretty much didn’t. At one point I was aware of Kayla moving. I sprang up to see if she was ok. “Are you okay? What are you doing?” In a curt but determined voice, Kayla replied, “I’m trying to pee in this little bucket and not spill it in the sand!” We both burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. She crawled back onto her cot and fell asleep. Meanwhile the wind picked up and started howling. There was no way I could sleep. I woke Kayla to tell her my plan to make a mad dash for the empty tent. She said she’d stay where she was. About 15 minutes later, when the sand started pelting her in the face, she joined me. As I lay in the tent I started worrying about our cots being blown away, so I left the tent and found big rocks to hold the cots in place. I came back and tried to settle down once again. The winds howled and the sand blew. Kayla mumbled something. “Are you okay, honey? What did you say?” I asked. With great patience Kayla slowly and distinctly repeated herself, “ I … said . . . HOLY MOLY!” Again we burst into laughter at our predicament and what we’d gotten ourselves into. This wasn’t what either of us had pictured when we imagined this dream vacation.

We found a way to get ready that morning with sand howling in our midst. We turned our backs to the wind and managed to keep the gritty sand in our eggs to a minimum. We savored our thermos of coffee, grateful for the lid on the thermos. We packed up our gear, which had been buried in sand during the night, and I quickly realized my contacts were a ‘no go’ for the day. On to plan B. Wait – I never thought of packing prescription sunglasses. Oh well. I’d have to make do.

We were definitely uncomfortable campers. The already unfamiliar hygiene routines were made increasingly difficult by the blowing wind and sand. This was quite challenging and I tried to keep my mind from going to the future and thoughts of “What if this wind never quits the whole week?”

And then, ever so slightly, the magic started to happen. We discovered delight in the morning light on the canyon walls and the incredible scenery and emerald green water. We relished stopping early at a campsite where we found blessed shelter from the wind and a little bit of shade. Many of us grabbed tents for this night – knowing anything could happen and we wanted to be prepared. The guides led us on a fabulous hike where we marveled at the fossils and petroglyphs from so long ago it was hard to fathom the time. I recognized the symbols, the spirals, and felt a connection with these ancient people, knowing that we all grapple with understanding our place in this world, and search for ways to express ourselves and the mystery of it. The guides served up delicious appetizers that evening – hunks of cheese, sausage, crackers and peanut M&M’s. We rinsed out our thermos of coffee and filled it with chardonnay – and suddenly it was a party! The people with us on this trip turned out to be the most positive group of people I’ve ever met. They were fun loving, young at heart and there wasn’t a complainer in the group. The lasagna dinner was delicious! We were charmed by the evening light on the canyon walls, the camaraderie, the stars and then the full moon, which was so bright it woke Kayla up. She was sure someone was standing over her with their headlamp on. Me – I still wasn’t able to sleep – too excited and enthralled with the all of it.

In the morning everything was easier. Peeing in the river was a piece of cake. No big deal. We marveled at our resilience. We felt more competent and capable after conquering these challenges. Kayla said, “Mom, I think we’d do really well on Survivor!” And from then on each moment was more spectacular than the previous one. We were having the time of our lives. We explored flowing canyons that made me feel like I was shrunk and inserted into an oversized Georgia O’Keeffe painting. We faced the canyon wall and carefully sidestepped along the narrow ledges of the narrow slot canyons, only occasionally daring to look down at the creek flowing 200 feet below us. We played in numerous waterfalls. We linked our bodies together in a 21-person train that slid down a rock slide through the rapids of the warm and mysteriously turquoise blue Little Colorado River. We climbed on and jumped off huge boulders into the deep parts of Havasu Creek, splashing and laughing in that sweet spot of effortless effort – the way we played as children.

At the end of the week, our skin was raw and cracked from the combination of sun, wind and constant wetness. Our hair was unwashed and felt like straw. Everything we owned was dirty and full of sand. And yet we were reluctant to leave this paradise. We were so grateful we pushed through the discomfort and gave ourselves the opportunity to experience the joy of life just at, or maybe even a little beyond, the edge of comfort. Truly an unforgettable peak experience!

~ Sue Hardman-Conklin

Questions to Ponder

1. How much does your desire for comfort govern the choices you make?

2. Are you willing to push yourself a little bit outside of your comfort zone to try something that excites you, but also challenges you?

3. When you think about your peak experiences, was any amount of discomfort or trepidation endured to achieve it?