#Encouragement of Climb: Next Summit

[historyhermann]

A trend toward "nomance" in animation?: Increased depictions of female friendships

Left to right: Encouragement of Climb episode 12 ending; A Place Further than the Universe opening; Laid-Back Camp opening 1 Recently, UCLA’s Center for Scholars & Storytellers released their Teens & Screens Report, which stated that of the over 1,600 adolescents they polled, over 63% preferred stories focused on platonic relationships/friendships, as opposed to romantic ones, with movies…

[tomonohebi]

[sihasbi-kun]

Happy birthday Hinata Kuraue 🎂🥳

[lefemmerougewriter]

It's a crime that more people haven't written fics for this series on AO3 (more than half of those currently there are mature in some way)! I definitely plan to write some for this fandom soon, as I've almost finished watching season 3. I watched Next Summit (which is sort of a fourth season, but also sort of a revival in a sense) a while ago, but I only started watching the first three seasons recently.

The fact that Hikari Onozuka (a college student who works at Aoi at the cake store), and the owner of that store, tease Aoi about having a boyfriend, I really want to do a fic where she reveals that she is now dating Hinata Kuraue lol. The other couple which would be interesting to do a fic with would be Kaede Saitō and Yuuka Sasahara... Anyway, it would be fun to do a fic with this slice-of-life series, which falls into the cute girls doing cute things/mountaineering.

[exitrowiron]

Day 3: Oloron-Saint-Marie to Saint-Savin

57.7miles, 7,516' ascent, 5:37

Today's ride featured two major climbs starting with the Col de Marie-Blanque, a cat 2 climb which first appeared in the Tour in 1978. This was a challenging warm-up for the main event, the Col d'Aubisque, a climb rated 'hors categorie' (out of category). This climb is long and steep with 14% grades. But at the top you're rewarded with iconic views, punctuated by the well-known trio of giant bicycles. The summit is also where we enjoyed lunch.

The French and Spanish guides have been doing a good job of encouraging the Type A Americans to relax and enjoy lunch and take advantage of the opportunity to recharge tired legs and lungs.

As you can see in the videos, the two lane 'road' to/from the summit is the size of wide US bike trail. This makes it challenging for cars and bikes alike and the challenge is heightened when maneuvering around the free roaming cattle, sheep and wild draft horses. That's not a typo, the draft horses were brought to the region to help construct the roads and now they are permanent residents. The animals like to congregate at sections of the road that abut natural streams.

The climbs are arduous, but we've enjoyed knowing that our hotel for the evening is in the valley and we get to descend and coast the final 10 miles. Of course that means we have to start climbing the first thing the next day, but that is a problem for Tomorrow Mike.

I'm trying to include more videos, even though we were told that using our phones (our earbuds) while riding is a misdemeanor. I think its worth the risk ;-)

Thanks for following along.

[pixeldistractions]

Okay, maybe it was for the best that you didn’t fall in love with this. There were a whole lot of people back in Wisconsin who would prefer that this didn’t work out.

The first week of classes, Jordan might have easily said to hell with it. He was ready to call it quits and crawl back to his family in utter shame, because this wasn’t working. It was harder than he thought it would be. His arms felt like jello. He felt his muscles burn in places where he didn’t know muscles existed. His fingers gripped rock after rock until they could only tremble. To top it all off, he looked like such a shrimp next to these other beefy guys.

“But let me tell you a secret,” Maya told him, “We have less body weight to pull up. Just focus on your technique. Newbies always slip a few times. That’s why we have you on the short wall.”

Maya was five-foot-six and 135 pounds at most. She was motivating and encouraging, and he appreciated that, but it didn’t make the hard falls and slips any easier. He’d only been training for a few days, but they trained hard. He paid for these sessions and he was going to get his money’s worth. They climbed in the morning before the sun was high and hot, and they climbed in the evenings, too.

He wished he could say the effort was working.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Maya said. “People train for years before they ever attempt Komorebi. Did you think you’d master it in two weeks?”

No, that would have been silly. Two months? Well, he couldn’t say he didn’t hope.

“But Jack?” Jordan pointed at his fellow newbie flying up the wall. “He’s Spider-Man!”

He and Jack were the only two newbies in the class, but one look at Jack and you’d never assume this was his first time. He knew the handholds by instinct, he flew up the rock face with strength and precision. He would definitely have this mastered in two weeks.

Even Maya glanced at Jack, nodding with approval and surprise, then she turned to Jordan with a grimace. She was trying so hard to convince him not to throw in the towel, and he felt bad for her. He should probably just quit the class so she didn’t have to try with him anymore.

“Jack is different,” she said. “Jack is, I don’t know, touched by God or something. He’ll be teaching this class next year. That’s not normal. Most of my students have been training seriously for a year and they’re still mastering the medium wall. I’ve been climbing for three years, and this winter will be my first time attempting the summit. It was slow to start. You’ll get there in your own time.”

But Jordan wasn’t sure he had enough time to get there in his own time.

“One more thing,” Maya added, pointing at him directly. “You. Sunscreen. We’re pasty people in the desert, and those rocks reflect the sun. We fry out here.”

Jordan felt fried, mentally and emotionally, but he didn’t know about his skin. He shrugged. “I don’t know, I think it’s probably fine.”

But no, it wasn’t fine. By the end of the day, he felt it. His skin was warm and pink, and this was gonna hurt.

— from “boxes & squares #4.1: first fall apart” (1/5)

Next ->

[my-anime-goods]

Yama no Susume: Next Summit (Encouragement of Climb: Next Summit) - Pop Up Shop in Marui featuring goods with new illustrations from 4 August 2023.

[tetrix-anime]

Yama no Susume: Next Summit (Encouragement of Climb: Next Summit) - Blu-ray/DVD Volume 3 Illustration. Release: 24 March 2023

[rgenvs3000f23]

Blog #1

Hey! This week’s blog prompt asked us to describe our current relationship with nature, and how our “sense of place” developed.

I was very “outdoorsy” as a kid. Much of my free time was spent climbing trees, covered in grass stains, and being very enthusiastic about dinosaurs. My family would go hiking or sometimes camping, and generally encouraged my interest in nature.

As a teenager, I felt my “sense of place” in nature drift away. In theory, I knew I liked being outside. But school, sports, and life in general often distanced me from nature. Although I had some access to forests and trails, not having a car meant most larger parks and hiking trails were out of reach. When I tried to spend more time outdoors, I just didn’t feel qualified. I didn’t have the right experience, I didn’t have the right gear, and I didn’t know where to get either of those things. During high school, I dropped the idea of studying biology in university and tried to focus on other interests instead.

My sense of place in nature started to come into focus only recently, as a university student and (more or less) an adult. It took me less than one semester of university as a history major to realize that I desperately missed learning about biology. It took a few more semesters, but eventually I managed to change my program, and I’m now in the final year of my biology degree. A year ago, I got a seasonal job working in the kitchen of a hiking lodge. Although my working hours involved a lot of washing dishes, chopping vegetables, and making trail lunches, it was also the first time in years that I’d had the opportunity to really get outside. Steps from the lodge were trailheads leading up into extensive hiking trails, no car needed. When I first arrived, I still felt that lack of qualification, and I was completely surrounded by people with years of backcountry experience.

However, those same people were also happy to offer advice to help me get started. I was able to pick up a free pair of hiking boots and a comfortable backpack from the gear rental room at the lodge, and I spent the next several weeks slowly getting more comfortable hiking and being outdoors. And the more experience I got, the more I couldn’t wait to go back outside. By the time I left my seasonal job, I was consistently going on full-day hikes on my days off. I started being able to give people directions while I was out on the trails, or recommend the best routes or nearby places to check out when people asked. I remember one morning giving a man and his daughter directions to my favourite nearby swimming spot. That evening while I was working in the dish pit, they stopped by to drop off their plates, and we chatted for a few minutes. They’d loved the swimming spot, and planned to go back.

That experience meant a lot to me, having the outdoors go from a distant place I didn’t feel I could be a part of, to something I was able to help others enjoy. Now that I’m nearing the end of my degree, I’m thinking about what I would like to do after graduating. I would love my career to involve being able to share my enthusiasm for nature, and helping people feel a bit closer to the outdoors.

Picture: A glacial valley from the summit of a favourite trail

[her-catharsis]

This past year was a mountain I never expected to climb. There were moments of doubt, struggles that seemed insurmountable, and lessons I never thought I’d learn.

But here I stand, at the summit of 2024. I don’t know what mountains lie ahead in 2025, but for now, I’ve conquered this one..Alhamdulillah.

To everyone who supported me along the way, thank you. Your encouragement, kindness, and belief kept me going when the climb felt impossible.

To the one I’ve hurt, I’m truly sorry. I carry the lessons from my mistakes with me and hope this new year brings the chance for healing, understanding, and redemption.

And to the one who was hurting me. I’ve let go of the weight I carried, not for you, but for me. This new year is about moving on, setting boundaries, and finding peace.

Here’s to the heartbreaks, resilience, growth, and the courage to face whatever comes next.

Still climbing

HER-CATHARSIS

[jasperdream]

Unmatched Kilimanjaro Trek with a Dream Team

It was after more than a year and a half of planning, that I and my partner decided to finally set off for our Mount Kilimanjaro Climbing adventure. We always knew that it would be a challenging thing.  What we didn’t expect was how much the team from African Scenic Safaris would make the journey special.

We had planned for an eight-day trek on the Northern Circuit Route, but due to low oxygen levels, we had to shorten it by a day and a half. Even with this change, the experience was incredible. We spent over a year planning every detail with Priyank from the AS team, who patiently helped us adjust our plans as needed.

When we finally began the climb, the team’s focus on our safety and comfort made all the difference. Their support turned what could have been a tough situation into a memory we’ll always treasure.

“Reaching Kilimanjaro’s peak is just one part of the climb; the real journey is shaped by those who help you get there.”

A Team Like No Other

From the start, it was clear that our guides, Godwin and Nestor, were focused on our safety and well-being.

Godwin, our head guide, had a deep knowledge of the mountain and a calm, reassuring presence that made a huge difference as we faced the challenges of the climb.

He was a mentor who loved to share insights on the best Kilimanjaro Climbing Routes and offered tips on how to acclimatize effectively.

When we had to make the tough decision to turn back because of the Kilimanjaro Altitude, Godwin’s care and concern for our health were evident. His commitment to making sure we were safe and enjoying the experience meant the world to us.

"Our guide Godwin wasn’t just leading us up the mountain—he was sharing a piece of his world with us."

Meet our Heroes of the Climb – The Kilimanjaro Porters

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Safari & Trekking | Tanzania (@africanscenicsafaris)

The Kilimanjaro Porters on our trek were simply amazing. These hardworking individuals were always there to support us, carrying our gear, setting up our camp, and greeting us with smiles and encouragement after a long day.

Their dedication made our trek much more comfortable and allowed us to fully enjoy the stunning landscapes of Kilimanjaro.

We were truly impressed by how much they went above and beyond to make our journey smooth and memorable.

“Despite the physical demands, they always had smiles on their faces, ready to lend a helping hand.”

Safety First, Always

As we climbed higher, the importance of Kilimanjaro Health & Safety became even more clear. Our team regularly checked on us, making sure we were staying hydrated and adjusting well to the altitude.

When it became clear that continuing the climb could put our health at risk, Godwin made the wise decision to turn back.

Although it was disappointing, we knew that our safety was the most important thing, and we were grateful for the care and attention we received.

"It’s not just about making it to the majestic heights of the summit—it’s about making sure everyone gets home safely."

Reflecting on the Experience

As I reflect on our Mount Kilimanjaro Hike, the memories that come up again and again aren’t just about the physical challenges. What I remember most are the incredible people who made the journey so special.

The camaraderie, the shared stories, and the deep connections we formed with our guides, porters, and each other are what made this experience truly unforgettable.

While we didn’t reach Uhuru Peak, we gained something even more valuable—friendships that will last a lifetime.

"We may not have reached the summit, but the friendships we made along the way are the real highlight of our journey."

What’s Next?

I hope our Mount Kilimanjaro Climbing adventure has sparked your interest in planning your own journey.

If so, be sure to catch our next blog, where we’ll take you on a thrilling Tanzania Safari adventure.

From lion packs to a cheetah hunt, the excitement is just beginning!

Meanwhile, you can spend your time checking out Kilimanjaro Climbing Packages from the African Scenic Safaris and plan your dream climb!

[historyhermann]

From Subtext to Outright Confessions: Examining Several Recent Yuri(ish) Anime

Top left: Whisper Me a Love Song. Top right: Girls Band Cry. Bottom left: The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio. Bottom right: Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night Originally I hadn’t been planning on writing this article, but when putting together my list of the top 20 anime for 2024, I realized that many had yuri themes, either as romantic or platonic yuri, so this article made more sense.…

[tomonohebi]

[sihasbi-kun]

Happy birthday Honoka-chan!

[chardham-tour]

Discovering the Beauty of Chopta, Tungnath, and Chandrashila: My Unforgettable Trekking Experience

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of traveling with Tourmyholiday to Chopta, Tungnath, and Chandrashila. It was an amazing experience. This walk, which began in Delhi, was more than simply a vacation; it was an encounter that helped me rediscover my connection to the natural world, my spirituality, and the breathtaking Himalayas. I hope that this thorough description of my journey will encourage you to discover this undiscovered beauty in Uttarakhand.

The Journey Begins: Delhi to Chopta

The excursion began with a cozy overnight flight from Delhi to Chopta. The actual road journey was picturesque, with stops at charming villages, rivers, and verdant forests. The air became colder as we continued to drive into Uttarakhand, and the sight of the high mountains created the ideal atmosphere for the adventure that lay ahead.

Known as the 'Mini Switzerland' of Uttarakhand, Chopta greeted us with verdant fields and breathtaking views of snow-capped hills. This little village, perched at a height of around 2,608 meters, is a hiking and wildlife enthusiast's dream come true. After a hot lunch and our check-in to a quaint guesthouse, I spent some time getting to know the area. With its mesmerizing scenery of the Himalayas, cool mountain air, and singing birds, the location had the feel of a storybook.

The Ascent: Trekking to Tungnath

The next morning, we began our trek to Tungnath, the world’s highest Shiva temple, perched at an altitude of 3,680 meters. The trail from Chopta to Tungnath is about 3.5 kilometers and is well-marked, making it suitable for beginners. Despite the moderate difficulty, the trek felt exhilarating, with the path winding through rhododendron forests and offering stunning views at every turn.

As we climbed higher, the landscape began to change. The lush greenery gave way to snow-covered trails, and the air grew thinner and colder. After a couple of hours of trekking, we reached Tungnath. Even though the temple was closed for winter, the aura of the place was palpable. Surrounded by towering peaks and with snow underfoot, the spiritual energy of Tungnath was deeply moving. It was easy to understand why this place holds such significance in Hindu mythology.

Reaching the Summit: Chandrashila Peak

From Tungnath, the final push to Chandrashila Peak awaited us. The path was steeper and more challenging, but the reward at the top was worth every step. After another hour of trekking, we reached the summit at 4,000 meters.

Standing at the top of Chandrashila Peak, I was greeted by a 360-degree panoramic view of the Himalayas. Peaks like Chaukhamba, Nanda Devi, Trishul, and Kedarnath dominated the skyline, creating a breathtaking and humbling sight. The sense of accomplishment, combined with the sheer beauty of the surroundings, made this moment one of the highlights of my journey.

The Descent: Returning to Chopta

After soaking in the views and capturing some unforgettable photos, we began our descent back to Chopta. The return journey was much quicker, and we arrived in Chopta by late afternoon. The trek had left me with a deep sense of peace and fulfillment, and as I sipped on a hot cup of tea back at the guesthouse, I couldn’t help but reflect on the incredible experience I had just been through.

Exploring Chopta: The Birdwatcher’s Paradise

Before leaving Chopta, I took some time to explore the local area, known for its rich birdlife. Chopta is home to over 240 species of birds, making it a paradise for birdwatchers. I was lucky enough to spot the vibrant Himalayan monal, Uttarakhand’s state bird, along with other species like the Himalayan griffon and scarlet finch. The nearby areas of Dugalbitta, Mandal village, and the Tungnath trek route are also excellent for birdwatching, so I highly recommend bringing a pair of binoculars if you visit.

Final Thoughts: Why You Should Visit Chopta, Tungnath, and Chandrashila

This trek was more than just a physical journey; it was a spiritual and emotional experience that left a lasting impact on me. Whether you’re seeking adventure, spiritual solace, or simply a break from the hustle and bustle of city life, the Chopta Tungnath Chandrashila trek offers something for everyone.

Tourmyholiday made the entire trip seamless, from transportation to accommodation, and their local guides ensured that we had a safe and enjoyable experience. If you’re planning to visit, I highly recommend booking your trip with them for a hassle-free adventure.

Chopta, Tungnath, and Chandrashila are places that stay with you long after you’ve returned home. The memories I made during this trek, the stunning landscapes I witnessed, and the peaceful moments I experienced will always hold a special place in my heart. I can’t wait to return someday, and I hope my story inspires you to explore this beautiful corner of the world.

Delhi, Chopta, Auli Complete Tour Pacakge

Day 1: Delhi to Chopta

Morning: Early breakfast and departure for Chopta, known as the ‘Mini Switzerland of India’. It’s a scenic drive through the Himalayas.

Afternoon: Arrive in Chopta, check into your accommodation, and relax.

Evening: Enjoy the serene environment and take a short walk to explore the local area.

Day 2: Chopta Exploration

Morning: Go on a trek to Tungnath Temple (one of the highest Shiva temples) and possibly Chandrashila Peak for breathtaking views.

Afternoon: Return to Chopta and have lunch. Rest and enjoy the scenic beauty.

Evening: Relax and enjoy the peaceful surroundings.

Day 3: Chopta to Auli

Morning: Drive to Auli, a popular skiing destination and hill station in Uttarakhand.

Afternoon: Check into your hotel and enjoy the views.

Evening: Relax at the hotel or take a leisurely stroll around the area.

Day 4: Auli Sightseeing and Activities

Morning: Take a cable car ride to get panoramic views of the Himalayan ranges. Enjoy skiing or snowboarding (depending on the season).

Afternoon: Visit nearby attractions like the Auli Artificial Lake or the local village.

Evening: Enjoy a cozy evening at your hotel or explore local dining options.

Day 5: Auli to Delhi

Morning: After breakfast, begin your drive back to Delhi.

Afternoon: Arrive in Delhi, check into your hotel, and relax.

Evening: If time permits, explore any remaining sights or enjoy a farewell dinner in the city.

Day 6: Departure from Delhi

Morning: Depending on your departure time, you can do some last-minute shopping or sightseeing.

Transfer: Check out from the hotel and head to the airport/railway station for your onward journey.

Things to Consider:

Weather: Check the weather conditions and pack accordingly. Auli can be quite cold, especially in winter.

Health: Ensure you’re prepared for high altitudes and carry any necessary medications.

Bookings: Make sure all transportation, accommodations, and activities are pre-booked to avoid last-minute hassles.

[a-l-o-ra]

The New Zealand thing.

Mount Olliver summit, with Aoraki/Mount Cook in the background

As someone who used to be so anxious about the world that it caused me to not see much of it, there has been nothing more impactful than the immersion therapy of being in the “oh man, it’s really happening” moment. Landing in a foreign country knowing no one and never having been overseas, with just a few bags and intentions to live there for six months, is a hell of a rush.

And you wouldn’t know it based on how I live now, but I was not adventurous for a long time. I didn’t fly until I was 27. The first time I went to California from Florida, I drove. Both ways. And that was my “big” vacation of life. Never really crossed a border until 28. I was a late bloomer in so many regards until the dam burst, and then bam.

That current dragged me down a path of relatively quick escalation to the full-bodied experience of life I have now. First to flying for the first time, to meet someone I had never met before. Then to short hikes, in the vastness of the Canadian north during peak autumn foliage after crossing the border alone, to moving across the country to live in Yellowstone National Park. I washed dishes all summer, and I witnessed the fantastical serendipity of Mother Earth in the alien world that is the world's first national park. It clicked for me. I “got it.” Nothing in my life made sense as quickly and fully as things did for me when I fell in love with the outdoors. Then I swapped parks – to real hiking, climbing, and backpacking in Glacier National Park, a place that I love with the all of my being in a way nothing else has approached. And then, next year, I donned my ranger hat. It was one of the proudest moments in my life to have been given the opportunity to be a steward of a place I care so much about.

All this escalation led to the point where I found myself alone on a 15-hour long haul flight to Auckland, New Zealand, somehow completely at ease with what was about to unfold. See, it took a long time for me to be at ease with anything new or strange or unfamiliar or challenging. The personal change from being anxiety-riddled to someone who confidently steps forward is surreal; my personal journey has felt almost ethereal and unknowing because of how dramatic the change has been. I’m not being poetic or flippant here – I mean that in most regards, I look upon the person of six or so years ago as such a stranger that I barely know him.

Rural Aotearoa is...rural, especially on the South Island. The country is small, but unpopulated and generally not dense. Towns such as Owaka have populations only in the hundreds, but the warmth you recieve from the locals even when you're just passing through is unlike anywhere else I've been.

In moments of extreme lifestyle change, I tend to have a micro panic attack wondering “what did I get myself into now?” but I find this feeling to be unproductive (it encourages self-doubt, a freeloading and useless emotion). So I have developed this almost out-of-body response where I check my anxiety through sheer will (it took years of practice) and let events in my life happen pretending almost as if I am not in control of them, instead simply observing them in the third person. It’s very “let life happen to you,” a skill I had to spend a lot of time honing after living much of my life as boring and rigid. "I guess I'm doing this," I say to myself with increasing frequency.

There is a certain peace in releasing your mental grip on the moment you find yourself in – while I was honing this skill broadly over the years, I found myself in certain situations in the mountains where I had no other choice but to trust my intuition, experience, and perseverance, or to learn those skills in the moment. This escalated the process. I’ve been in the situation on a mountain where I look 3,000 feet below me while clinging to the side of a chossy scree-ridden shelf and thought “the only thing getting me to the top and back down right now is myself.” That is a little freaky, yes, but also strongly empowering. I once encountered a grizzly bear sow with two fresh cubs just shy of a 10,000 foot summit as storm clouds rolled in. I gambled on the weather when I went up that day, but I did not expect the bears. The mountains will always humble you, teach you a new lesson. And while that situation would have paralyzed me with debilitating fear in earlier years, I knew in that moment that trepidation was not the way forward. The only way was one step in front of the other, just like it always is. And a wide berth to the new mama. She didn’t even acknowledge me, but she knew I was there. They’re smart, those bears.

I found this book at Clinton Hut while walking the Milford Track. Ironically, the first thing that came to mind was not the rainforests of Fiordland National Park, but the endless stands of pines in Glacier National Park. On a chilly spring day, the smell of the pines and fresh air in Glacier is one of my favorite things on the planet.

Now I literally say “tuck and roll, baby” out loud to myself when I find myself opening a new door in my life, expecting there to be a Looney Tunes-esque spring trap that punches me in the face on the other side. Usually this is related to how I feel about other people (something I always waste more time on than I should), but a lifetime of being a wallflower gave me an unwanted and uncanny ability to predict how people will react.

What took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize, despite a lifetime of people watching, is the liberating and obvious fact of the matter that people are just doing their thing and very few care even a little bit about you. Even this is just my approximation of it all, since I discovered at a relatively late age that my brain doesn’t process the world in the same way that I believe others’ do, so I just have to kind of guess how most normal people go through this world and try to imitate it to fit in. But you see, during all my years of being a PC gaming shelter cat, I thought I had figured out the world and had just chosen to disengage from it, but it was actually The Big Lie, just me attempting to protect myself from hard feelings that

Were going to happen either way

Were made harder to deal with because I postponed them for so long

Felt more personal because I had no experience (reality check: everything the world does to you is impersonal)

I'm rambling a little, but there actually is a point to all of this. This is all setup for the fact that sometimes life just requires a little bit of a kickstart, and then it simply happens if you let it. People are generally easy to deal with, and the world we interact with daily isn’t that complicated if you don’t make it so. Not that I claim to understand these two things well at all – just pointing out that they’re pretty tied together; without people, we would just have indifferent natural systems. I mean, I’ve had a black bear approach me when I was peeing on a tree. That’s funny, and that bear was a curious one, but it pales in comparison to like a fraction of a slice of the human experience.

See, ego is a death spiral, and just because I say that doesn’t mean I’m in control of my own. Mine still reliably torpedoes otherwise fine relationships, but I guess I’m working on it or whatever. The point is, the world doesn’t really care about you. Most people don’t care the slightest bit about you. That TSA guy doesn’t care about you. That Aussie bartender in Jasper doesn’t care about you (sadly). The clerk at the gas station definitely doesn’t care about you, and I don’t blame them. The bus driver doesn’t. Honestly, in seasonal work, your recruitment manager probably doesn’t, at least not until you show up.

So like, jumping on a plane to move to a new country with nothing but two suitcases and a backpack turns out to not be that complicated. Because people are involved, and everyone is just trying to get through their day. Thousands of people do it every day and have been doing it for a long time. So what is the hard part?

It’s the will.

Willpower is doing a day-long ridge walk knowing full well that you probably won't see anything due to low visibility, going anyway, and not being upset about it. On a normal day, there is miles of panoramic mountain views up here.

The only barrier to doing this kind of thing, logistics aside, is choosing to do it. Actually, sorting out the logistics is part of the willpower. Get your paperwork sorted. You have to want it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself while you’re at, too. Trust me – I’m an expert, and it never gets you anywhere. Willpower does.

I scrape up against a lot of worlds where if people don’t want to be there, they aren’t. Thru-hiking ~3,000 miles on the continental divide trail. Dedicating your life to stewardship of public lands. Spending every waking moment of your free time climbing mountains or plotting to climb them. Spaces where there is no room for weak will. It’s weird to be saturated in this lifestyle and surrounded by people who live like this, where everything means everything, and then go back to “regular life” and see people just meandering about. Do you want to stop meandering? It’s will. And I’m not saying this like it’s a magic bullet or that it’s easy or like I don’t constantly struggle with willpower on a daily basis. But man, it gets you far.

So many people have said “I wish I could do what you do!” and I like to think, “Oh yeah? What part?” Do you want the loneliness? The overwhelming imposter syndrome? The uncertainty? It’s all willpower, all the time. You will be challenged every day. There’s no taking time off. Even when you’re settled in, there’s this background energy that surrounds you and forces you to constantly ask the following:

Can you get home? (Or where are you going next?) aka the "eject button".

How much time is left?

What do you want to do in that time?

Do you have the will to do it?

And the unpredictable: What is going to affect how you feel about all of this? In the next day? Week? Month? This is the greatest unknown in my experience.

This sounds a bit gloomy, but don’t let me get you wrong. It’s liberating. If I tried to do this 10 years ago, I’d be obsessively fixating on details. I’d have confirmation emails printed out and be constantly stressing about pickup times for transport and wracking my brain over a job I hadn’t started yet and panicking about customs and cultural differences and driving on the left side of the road and just about any logistical thing I could envision. I actually shared a bus ride in New Zealand with an American who reminded me so much of myself in the past – insecure, apologizing for things he didn’t need to apologize for, having a general feeling of being too tense. It was like staring into a portal to the past. I got the sense he was really getting outside his comfort zone by coming here. Great first step. Personal change is just discomfort the whole way, until one day it clicks.

None of it is even slightly worth stressing about in the end, once you have the basics covered (visa, bank, tax ID, customs). These days, it’s easier than ever (especially in New Zealand, which relies on a seasonal work force and is easy to get a working holiday visa for, depending on your home country). Someone probably has a YouTube video on it. TikTok, I’m sure. Or every piece of info you could want by Googling your query + reddit at the end.

Airport and customs personnel deal with thousands of people a day, many who are dumber than you are. And even if you are lost and dazed and confused, they’re just going to roll their eyes and help you. It’s not personal. It almost never is. Reminding myself of that has helped make these experiences some of the most beautiful years of my life and has finally let me chill out.

When I showed up to Te Anau, my lovely little lakeside town in the shadowlands of Aotearoa, I was jet lagged out of my mind, knew no one besides the guy who hired me (who probably didn’t even think I’d show up), and had a week booked in a single room at a hostel with no idea of where or when I’d find a permanent (or whatever you want to call it) place to stay. This would have made old Andrew’s head explode with stress. And there’s still a giddiness to it that makes a small part of my head explode (in the good way). It’s adventurous and fun and wonderful and a whirlwind, but I try not to indulge myself because of the ego thing.

Despite everywhere I’ve been the last five years or so, I’m actually not that much of a proponent of the idea that travel is inherently meaningful or contributes to character development; I’m more of a supporter of doing The Insane Thing that that fits your life, which may not be travel. You can be a traveler with no self-awareness and totally miss the point, or only ever have surface level experiences, or you can have moments that completely redefine your world at the local park in your hometown.

Meeting people while doing this is easy, but always so fleeting.

Solo travel can be miserable and lonely – all experiences are yours to enjoy only by yourself, so there’s less room for others to bring out joy, and you can constantly interact with people you may develop feelings for (no matter how trivial) and then never see again. Fuck that. Whiplash takes a lot out of me. Actually, this all takes a lot out of me, which is why mental exhaustion is the runaway concern that makes my head feel like analog TV static at the end of a day. I can do 20 miles in a day and then go another 15 the next day, but if there’s a fraction of a mental struggle, I’m going to need 2-3 business weeks to recover.

Last summer was a rainy summer in southland. I didn't have a car. I biked to work. I loved having a small carbon footprint (for whatever that term is worth) and getting to exercise a bit every day. But you know what sucks? Biking to work at 7 a.m. before you’ve had coffee in sideways cold rain as gale force winds from the Tasman Sea scream across the Murchison Mountains and off Lake Te Anau, somehow always against your direction of travel. And it’s 45 degrees, because it always was in the morning there. Or being completely locked into one town for six months. Long enough to not relate to the travelers passing through, but short enough to not truly connect with the locals. But the perfect time to make lifelong connections with the other temporary visa workers, as it turns out. We’re definitely a little cohort.

There are more sheep than people in Aotearoa, so sometimes you end up with scenes like which are extremely on brand for a country full of so much natural beauty and rural farmland.

The more years I put on this seasonal lifestyle, the quicker I get at settling in at new places. Places feel familiar remarkably quick. This is both a side effect of exposure to the lifestyle and a razor-sharp coping mechanism I developed that helps me deal with disappointment. But I thought that hopping across the world wouldn’t feel quite as business as usual as quickly as it did. It makes sense, since I’m always packing as much as I can into my time and hitting the ground running, so the settling in phase has to be shortened by necessity.

Or maybe this is a lie I tell myself to make the impermanence of everything easier to digest. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make new friends every 5-6 months and then say goodbye to them just a couple of months later, no guarantee if you’ll ever see them again? It’s one of the hardest things about the lifestyle. I’ve never gotten good at it, just good at swallowing the feeling when it’s time to let go. Letting go is a hard skill to get good at it. You learn to not hold onto things with such an iron grip and instead let them fall into the abyss when it's their time. But you lose a bit of yourself every time you have to do. Sometimes I wonder if it's still me in here.

Either way, Aotearoa/New Zealand is a special place. All countries have their diverse share of problems, but I felt far more at ease in New Zealand than the U.S. It’s in everything. There’s a sense that a lot of people you talk to, for the most part, are being genuine with their intentions. Maybe this is a south island thing. I deal with the public all day, and I didn't experience the same sense of entitlement and vague abuse that I do in the United States. Work-life separation is way more respected here. Also, as an aside, it’s normal to just walk around barefoot here, and I worked full shifts behind the desk in my socks. That just feels comfortable.

It’s kind of cringe in U.S. liberal circles to wax about how progressive other countries are without experiencing them, but hopefully six months of living in one gives me some leeway because it rang true there. Yeah, these things are hard to compare in 1:1 senses across cultural lines, but it’s something. I mean, New Zealand granted the Whanganui River the same legal status as a person, to protect it after a long history of pollution, land theft, and abuse. A river gaining legal personhood is the sharpest cutting edge for environmental and native justice, in a way that is really difficult to not reflect the culture as a whole.

My vitamin bottle was made from plants. Most takeout containers are compostable. People reuse empty egg cartons all the time. Additionally, native Māori language and culture are incorporated into every day culture; I could easily attend te reo Māori sessions during my employment to broaden my understanding of the language. It’s not perfect, but try raising the issue of Native American reparations or the reality about Mount Rushmore in the United States without a political bloodbath.

The culture of violence and confrontation that seeps into the cracks of everything in the U.S. isn’t really present in New Zealand. New Zealand feels more equitable and fair. It doesn’t feel like every progressive reform achieved in New Zealand is done despite some massive shadowed conservative resistance orchestrated by billions in dark money. There is a general warm culture of trust and altruism in New Zealand whereas in the U.S., it feels like everything you interact with is kind of vaguely set up to scam you. My phone bill in New Zealand was just under $22 USD for the almost the same service I give Verizon more than $90 for in the U.S. No absurd price for data that companies charge because no one will stop them.

My landlord’s ambulance fee for an emergency was just under $61 USD. I once got an ambulance bill in the U.S. for more than $650 for 1.6 miles. And it goes without saying, but New Zealand has figured out the healthcare thing. The country's Covid-19 response gained fame for its effectiveness, especially in contrast to the U.S.

The van life culture is popular in New Zealand just as it is in the U.S., but because of property-centric capitalism and anti-homeless policies, you are often harassed by the law just for being somewhere overnight in the U.S. In New Zealand, kiwis are generally unbothered by how others live their lives (ironic, considering the drum that the U.S. beats over personal freedom) and very few people are going to harass van campers. You can even get your rig inspected as self-contained and receive a sticker that allows you to camp at areas specifically set up and labeled as places to spend the night for free. These, and many other things I’ve experienced, are deliberate policy choices in a developed nation.

Aoraki/Mount Cook as seen from the gorgeous window pane in the visitor center.

I felt perfectly safe hitchhiking in New Zealand. Perfectly safe leaving my camera unattended in a hut with 39 other people. Or leaving my bag and belongings behind as I go climb a mountain. In New Zealand, you just pump your gas, and it’s trusted that you walk into the store to pay for it. Importantly, I don’t constantly feel like I’m one disagreement away, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time, from being shot dead by someone because guns are handed out like candy. The country is also highly secular and increasingly so.

New Zealand is probably the most multi-national experience I’ve had so far. The huge seasonal workforce is often international people on a working holiday visa, and they come from all over the world. Lots of Germans, Dutch, French, Belgian, Swedish, British, and Japanese people. Some Americans. The occasional Russian, eastern European, Canadian, and Thai. Just rattling off the top of my head. In the U.S, I deal with a far smaller percentage of internationals in my public-facing role in Montana. Interestingly, when I'm in Montana, if I drive an hour north into Canada and visit their closest national park, I see a similar level of internationals as I do in New Zealand.

Dealing with this huge melting pot throughout a typical workday often made my brain melt a little due to the variations of English when it is spoken as a second language, in addition to small cultural differences. When spoken as a second language, English seems to imitate the grammatical structure of the person’s first language. Almost all of my coworkers spoke English as their second language, and from different nationalities, and when you combine this with the huge variation in visitors I talk to all day, I had to integrate completely new subtleties into my social understanding of language.

New Zealanders generally generate much less trash. It’s rare to find any massive XXL trash cans all over every building like you do in the U.S. You just kind of hold onto it until you find a bin, and strangely, you end up with less of it than you do in the U.S. A lot of single-use stuff is recyclable. Plastic bags at grocery stores are banned, and there wasn’t some huge bullshit backlash with red-faced idiots screaming about their freedoms or conservative governments pre-empting it by passing ban bans.

There are of course beats out here that are similar to what I encounter in the U.S. There is some local resentment toward the Department of Conservation, the land agency that administers the national parks. Or in contrast, people complain about how underfunded they are. I encountered xenophobia and racist leanings on occasion, although not nearly as prevalent as in the U.S., and it doesn't feel as deeply-rooted and systematic. People complain about national spending trends and inflation and increasing prices and cost of living. Grocery prices were crazy there. There are strict biosecurity laws in place in New Zealand, and I imagine this is why chiles cost almost $16 USD a pound or why I couldn't get my hands on any dry black beans.

The language and mannerisms are a blast. I had so much fun learning from the kiwis. The accent is wild. I cannot grasp the New Zealand accent, although I could pick it out of a crowd now. Kiwis will roast you into dust, but it’s all in good fun. My supervisor introduced me on my first day saying “This is Andrew. He’s an American, but he seems alright.”

As a former British Crown country, there’s a ton of Commonwealth influence in the language, but all the way at the end of the world, it’s more rugged. Here is a short list of some of the language the kiwis have taught me:

Chuffed: delighted, satisfied.

Box of fluffies: happy, chirpy, positive.

Mufties: casual Friday wear.

Hard case: funny (oh, he’s a hard case)

Smoko: short break at work, left over from the days people used to smoke.

Bogan: Aussie/Kiwi redneck equivalent.

Tramper: backpacker. I’ve always been amused by this one. It’s funny to say sentences such as “you need to be safe while tramping.”

Bangers and mash: a pub dish. sausages drowned in mashed potatoes, gravy, and peas.

Off like a herd of turtles.

Howyagoing? Spoken so that all the words run together (as the Kiwi accent tends to do generally). How we’d say “how are you doing?” or “what’s up?” in the states.

Sweet as/right as/cool as: a way to emphasize.

She’ll be right: it’ll work out.

Chilly bins/wheely bins: Coolers and trash cans for the street, respectively. The British influence strong here.

Scroggin: trail mix.

JAFA: just another fucking Aucklander.

Wee (small) and heaps (a lot).

Ah yeah precedes almost every sentence.

Are you keen?: Are you interested? (but with a smidge more intrigue).

Of course, it’s not all language. As someone with a degree in journalism and creative writing, and with English as my “mother tongue,” I’m fascinated by the differences. But I also want to share some general observations:

The beer in New Zealand left a little to be desired. I’m sorry, guys. I'm a big fan of India Pale Ales – but they’re like 5% alcohol by volume and barely have the substance and intrigue of a U.S. IPA. Where I come from, IPAs are like 6-9% and kick you in the teeth with citrus and hops. Maybe this is the “more is always better” that is my original sin as an American, but I’ll never forgive myself for taking home a six-pack of session ales home from the supermarket here in Te Anau and discovering that they’re 2.5% ABV. Yeah, session ales are generally lower ABV, but?

Sitting at bars is not common (at least not in Te Anau; I only found one in town that let me), and it’s weird. Actually, a lot of restaurant stuff is weird. I’ve been looked at like I’ve had two heads for asking if I could start a tab. It's unusual here to let anyone walk away with or hold your payment card, so maybe this is why.

Savory pies are the move here. Man, I miss the New Zealand pies. Butter chicken, steak and cheese, pork belly, mincemeat. Endless varieties. You eat them with your hands.

But a lot of the food made me yearn for U.S. food. This was honestly the biggest contributor to homesickness. There’s a lot of commonwealth weirdness. Sweet where sweet doesn’t belong in my world (pizza, nachos). Condiment and food combos that make me want to hurl (mustard on loaded French fries? No). Eggs put randomly in things that don’t need eggs. Hash browns on a burger as standard? I mean that’s fine, but why? Also, burgers are made of mince, not ground beef, so there’s a texture thing going on, too. Interestingly, they have a weird love for “Kentucky style” fried chicken. It feels coded as an American fixation thing because they often command a premium at the stores. I find this weirdly heartwarming.

Loaded fries with barbecue sauce and mustard

Sweet and savory is often mixed into a single dish. In my experience in the U.S., sweet and savory are generally either separate stages of the meal (think dinner and then dessert) or at least separate pieces of the dish. In the U.S., the cranberry sauce would be next to the turkey. In New Zealand, you might expect to find cranberry in your savory chicken pie.

You know we have to talk about New Zealand Marmite. I think the easiest way to understand it is as something you grow up with in your culture. Did I find it completely overpowering (yes, it was spread thin)? Totally. Did I watch my kiwi friend eat like 4 slices of bread with the stuff spread on it, like he couldn’t get enough? Also yes. My landlord put ketchup on her pizza, so I’m going to say that sometimes these things are just doing what you’re used to.

Te Anau was the most genuine small town experience I’ve had in my life. Living here feels like what older folks reminisce about when they talk about the closeness of their communities back in the day. If mail gets delivered to the wrong address, the recipient will go out of their way to get it to the right person. I messaged a woman on Facebook about a haircut, and she made a house call to do the cut in the kitchen. My landlord knew who she was. Everyone knows each other. Neighbors share their garden yields. People are warm.

Also, everyone in Te Anau just lets their pets loose, and then everyone posts about seeing them on the community page. It is a lawless place. I met so many cats and dogs just wandering the streets. There was a creamsicle cat named Ginge who roamed main street and was quite famous.

Ginge

I guess this all comes down to a point, otherwise, what am I doing besides pilfering your time? Or does it? Maybe it’s just endearing to hear about life on the other side of the world. It’s always hard for me to think about and process these things in an objective way. I’ve passed through so many communities in my life, but usually only for very short amounts of time. My frame of reference is not similar to most peoples’, so it’s hard to provide context. Even harder across the world alone, living in a tiny town, in a different culture, different landscape, a ship passing by in the night. Yeah, there are similarities, and home is a long plane ride away, but there is a cosmic difference both in my physical space and ability to convey what this all means. But I have never lived more fully and intensely than I have during the last handful of summers of my life, bookended by shoulder seasons and winter soaked soggy with feeling and post-processing a summer lived wildly.

The south island is a land of fog, rain, wind, and mild year-round temperatures. Its western end is a rainforest, and as you move east away from the fjords and mountains, you get a classic rain shadow effect, which causes the land to be drier.

This was the most challenging of my life changes. I almost bailed a number of times, but luckily I’m returns-oriented, and it cost way too much money to get out here and get setup for me to bail. I had no clue what I was doing for a minute. I had my plane and bus tickets, a place to stay in the hostel for the week, and a job, but this all ethereal for an faraway island nation that you’ve never been to and have never experienced the culture of. Isolation, cultural adjustments, lack of transport, and the constant bad weather contributed to me almost hitting the eject button, but I’m far too stubborn and willing to stick through with things to pack up and leave.

There is something to say about how much mental turbulence I’m willing to put up with for what I do; I’ve been tortured by my mind for so long in almost every corner of my life that it doesn’t even phase me anymore, even if it contributes to some Biblical levels of dissociation.

I know this is silly to say so far in, but if you asked me for advice, I wouldn’t know what to tell you. If you’re young, get a working holiday visa. Answers to logistical questions are answerable. I could provide context and offer suggestions, but like I said, most of this stuff can be answered by someone’s FAQ or a Google search. There were struggles, no doubt, but I figured it out, as one tends to do. How do you verify logins for all of your U.S. based accounts when they want to text your U.S. number for two-factor authentication, which is no longer active? How do you get a W-2 from a website that doesn’t let you log on because you’re on a New Zealand IP address? I had to shell out money for a VPN solely to pretend I’m in U.S. How do you maintain relationships through both the time zones and general sense of being a world away, mentally and physically?

I can give credit to my hiking friends in the American west for introducing me to the alpine lake cold plunge - something that I would never have tried by myself after living by the warm Florida ocean for 20 years. But there is a baptismal energy in immersing yourself in a lake just under the shadow of a giant.

And I definitely can’t answer for matters of the heart. Although I will say, at the end of the day, matters of the heart are what guide me most. Yearning, love, wanderlust – a search for something unfindable, although I’m convinced I’ve found it in the northern Rockies of Montana, which is why I’ll always go back.

So what do I even say? Truth is, after four years of this seasonal thing, I don’t know what I’m doing. Every day, I end up asking myself a similar framing of the same questions wondering if it’s the right thing, and here I am, still doing it. I think asking the questions is part of what helps me stay connected to some sort of reality, whatever that is.

I thought that maybe I would have some idea of what I was doing at some point, but I don’t. This is what causes all the nebulousness in my life and my perspective here. I have fully accepted that I am metaphorically floating untethered through space.

It’s liberating.