Stories Vol 18: Passing on Chiang Rai

This past December 18th was probably one of the most memorable days of my life. Why you ask? It was the day I got my call from Kellogg and the day I committed to quitting my job at General Mills and doing an extended trip during the summer.

To be honest I took a risk with the job at Mills. The woman heading up the new analyst program promised opportunities to learn from some of the best marketers in the consumer packaged goods industry, however, there was one caveat, there was NO CAREER PATH. Essentially I was putting all of my eggs into one bucket and by taking the position I trapped myself in some sense at Mills in the short term.

General Mills is a fantastic company but it wasn't necessarily the perfect fit for me at this point in my life and so the wait for grad school acceptances was that much more stressful. I had only applied to 3 schools: Stanford, NYU an and Kellogg. By the time the morning of the 18th rolled around I had received some not so exciting news from both Stanford and NYU. Kellogg was tied for my first choice with Stanford but I had nothing to fall back on now. To top it all off, Kellogg calls everyone that is admitted on the same day and then that night emails out rejection letter to all those not accepted.

The morning of the 18th, I sat around at my desk, frantically checking my phone every other minute. In between that I'd check the blog message boards online to see if anyone from the Midwest had received their call. They started calling people at around 6am and by 9am my phone was dead from the number of times I had clicked the screen to look for a missed call.

This was my dream hanging there teetering back and forth on a balance. At 11 I started to see people from the Midwest post. The stress of the idea of not getting in hit my mind. Keen on distracting me a coworker grabbed me for lunch. I went reluctantly, figuring that the staff at Kellogg probably wouldn't make calls anyways during that hour as they had to eat as well.

By the end of lunch I was tense to say the least. I tried to hold conversation with my coworker but it was clear that my mind was else where. I apologized and they noted that they understood. On our walk back they tried to break the tension and they joked about how I had worn a purple polo that day (the school colors). Truth be told it was on accident but now I was very aware how intense I must appear in the office. When we got up to our floor, I checked my phone and grabbed my laptop. I was going to sit on the couches in the lobby and work. Maybe a change in scenery would help to distract me.

At 1:05pm shortly after sitting down on the couch, my phone started to ring. My heart started to race with the ferocity of a jolt of adrenaline. My breath quickened and I swiped the green circle right to answer the call.

"Hello, this is Morgan Lippitt."

"Hi Morgan, I'm calling from the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern. How's your day going?"

Even though I knew this was THE call, I needed them to say it. It was not real unless they said it.

"I'm calling to let you know that you've been accepted to our 2yr MBA program."

My face contorted from the anxious and stale look I had worn all day to a giant smile. I could feel that my face had turned bright red. I couldn't stop smiling. My heart was racing and if I hadn't been at work I probably would have danced/shouted out the second I got off the phone. In that moment, I was no longer trapped, I was free but more importantly I accomplished the initial step of my long term goals
 

Having felt so fearful of being trapped in the role at General Mills for so long all I wanted for my time after working there was to feel free. As a result, I committed to traveling for 2 months over the summer but refused to actually plan out any details. I did not want to be bound to anything. I wanted as much freedom as I could afford myself for the trip given my budget. 

My original idea was that I would go to Chiang Rai near Chiang Mai after the girls left, however, not wanting to end my time with Tom and them I decided to cut the city from the agenda. This was the freedom that I wanted and was enjoying. As a result I had an extra two days and one night in Chiang Mai before I would hop on a night train with Tom to go to Bangkok and then fly to Northern Vietnam.

To fill that time, Tom and I took our bikes up into the mountains surrounding Chiang Mai. The girls had done this ride was some guys from the hostel and said it was amazing. One of the guys had actually crashed his bike, taking a turn to fast and almost in the process edged himself off the cliff. This worried us but having just spent the two previous days enjoying the motorbike experience we couldn't resist a final 4 hour ride out to a hill tribe village and back.

The ride was refreshing. Thai summers are brutally hot and the sun beats down upon you as if intentially trying to cook you from the outside in. This ride was thankfully covered completely by trees. The road snakes deep into the mountain curving in and out and around the large jutting sides. The higher you get into the mountain, the colder it gets. There was a point in which we were so high that a fog actually was surrounding us in cool mist. We couldn't even see down the Cliffside into town. 

Unlike the previous ride, my thoughts weren't toiling over people or situations. Instead I was just completely present, . All I could take in was the green hues the leaves and grass were giving off. There had been so much rain that the color was rich and deep as off chosen off a color palate. Absolutely unreal. As I sat on my bike riding through the pass, I yet again found myself hearing my friends voice from back home.

"Morgan, Remember Take back all the sights, sounds and tastes."

It's funny that this friend's words stuck with me so much, especially given how short I have known him. For some reason, they stuck with me. It was probably the greatest goodbye gift I got, a reminder to record and to archive my memories.

The ride that morning was just what I needed. It cleared my head. With the exception of my friends reminder, it forced me to stop thinking about the people and memories from the last 3 years. Like that call on the 18th, the ride freed me. All I could feel was pure happiness and awe. By the time I got back to the hostel, I was content to just sit there and write for the entirety of the afternoon. I didn't need to move or take action. I took the time to document and not reflect.

The only thing I needed to do that day was buy my own and Tom's train ticket for the next day's night train. He had decided to go to the zoo while I relaxed at the hostel. I had opted out, it wasn't for me.

With no agenda for the evening, I ended up tagging along with Tom to Jane's Restaurant for a BBQ night she had in the works. It really didn't take much to convince me to join Tom and some other guys from the cliff jumping caravan for dinner. All they needed to say was burger and Jane's. I was sold.

The BBQ was a thousand times better than I expected. Having grown up in the US, Jane had gone all out with the food. Potato salad, burgers, and Cole slaw. Everything was so freaking fantastic. At one point, we left after our first slider to go check out a local food stand market but only ended up coming back for another burger.

That was probably the best decision we made. We left when the party was dying down and when we came back it was just Jane and a small circle of her close friends. There was an attractive all American guy, a guy that looked like Harley from Lost and a few Indy/hipster Thai people.

As we got into introductions, we found out that the all American guy was actually a jazz saxophonist in Chiang Mai. Tom mentioned how he had heard a saxophone over by the old city wall earlier that day and as it turned out, it was Mr. All American, blowing away practicing for an upcoming show. I don't know if it was that I was enamored with him or if he actually was an interesting guy, but I found his story fascinating in the moment. With that said, now a month later, I struggle to recall it exactly. My guess is it was the former.

After introductions and back stories, the conversation switched to food. Food conversations are my forte. Maybe it's my inner fat kid or maybe it’s my work experience but I love talking to other nationalities about their food and sharing details on my own favorites. Jane and the all American went back and forth at one point on whether or not he should get royalties for giving her his dad's burger recipe that she used.

"Are you freaking stoned?" She retorted to his demand for credit.

"The recipe was just a list of random spices and with out any quantities." She jabbed.

They dynamic of the group was something you could only dream of. No one was trying to one up each other or get the final word. It was just free flowing like you'd imagine a group of old friends would do at a café on the river in Paris. It made Chiang Mai feel like home for me. The stories and memories they shared made the city less touristic and more enigmatic. There was more to it than what we had seen so far. We had just brushed the surface.

As the conversation moved through different food topics, it somehow transitioned into macro economic food trends across the globe and labor difficulties in different countries. It was one of those conversations you can't recall but remember it being intelligent. By the time it ended, it was 1am and we were all sufficiently tired. Tom and I left proud to have spent the night with a mix of international locals. There is something nice about freeing yourself of the confines of tourism and spending the night as if you were in your own home town talking with friends. 

Stories Vol 17: Alive

 

 

 

There is no expression more horrifying and beautiful than the look of fear. Horrifying because in that moment the emotion is flashed onto a face, there is no hiding it. The emotions are raw and serve to remind us that we are not invincible, we are fragile. The panic emanating as an after effect from our initial encounter with what we perceive to be danger is our subconscious telling us to yield. It cannot calculate the likelihood of survival, while we may live for multiple lives, our body knows all too well that it lives for just one.

 

That is the beauty in Fear. While it serves as a way to protect us from danger, it is more importantly a reminder that we must live for this life and this life alone. We can know only one thing for certain and that is that we have one life to live, one life to dream and one life to act.

 

The primary purpose for returning back from Pai so quickly was to join our friends, Fleur and Vanessa, on a trip to a local quarry to cliff dive. I've only gone cliff diving once before but the memory of the feeling during the jump radiates through my thoughts, so vivid is the memory that it finds me from time to time and awakens or rather ignites a need to run…a need to take to risk…a need to jump.

 

Mid jump, Italy, July 2011

It was now Thursday Morning, we had spent our first night back in Chiang Mai swimming and relaxing at the opening of our Hostel's pool bar down the street. The plan for the day was to get breakfast and in the afternoon rent motorbikes to drive to the quarries. My excitement for the adventure was high through out the night and kept me at the edge of consciousness as the sky slowly shifted from a dark starry haze to a bright cloud filled grey. As the minutes and hours passed from the moment I went to bed to the moment I woke up, my thoughts focused on the different fears I had found myself pouring through on the ride back form Pai.

 

I couldn't stop thinking through the mistakes I had made with people. A fear that up until this point I felt I couldn't confront.  I don't regret moving back to Minnesota after college, taking a job at Target or at General Mills or doing one major over another while in school. What I regret is that people have not always seen the best of me and in those moments.

 

I hate that while growing up, insecure about hiding my ADHD, Creativity and Sexuality, I was angry. I let my fear of not being accepted for who I was consume me. I let my fear of never being able to have the things in life most people take for granted, children/family/marriage, create resentment. In elementary school, I conformed to acts of bullying. I was 8 and knew it was wrong to call him booger boy like everyone else, but I did it anyway. I was 11 and knew it was wrong to call her gangly. I was 14 and knew it was wrong to call attention to his misunderstanding. I spent so much of my life using my ability to read people's insecurities as a way to hide my own from the world around me.

 

Shortly after my 23rd birthday I finally had the moment of clarity, the moment where I stopped running from the panic and resentment my fears had created. Sitting on a dock on Lake Kabetogama with my sister, Krissy, gazing up at the crystal clear constellations and murkiness of the milkyway I turned to my sister and told her, "So… I'm not straight."

 

Her answer was simple, "I know. I've always known."

 

She like everyone else, had seen the fear on my face that I tried so desperately and for so long to hide. Unlike everyone else, she didn't need to have confirmation that she identified the reason behind the fear correctly. Hearing no judgment in her voice, I wanted her to understand my fear. I went on to explain to her that because of who I am, I recognized that I may never find love, may never have children and may never be accepted.

 

Her response was a force of change in my life…" Morgan, you are unlike anyone I have ever met in my life. People have the most polarizing reactions to you. Either they love or absolutely hate you. There is no in between. You think differently and this will always terrify some people but I truly believe you were meant to do great things."

 

Feeling so relieved at the acceptance she had shown me, I made a decision to change. I didn't want to be the person who constantly tore people down. I wanted to help give people that same feeling of acceptance I felt there on the dock.

 

While that moment was incredibly significant in my life it did not remove the fear of not being accepted. For the present, this is a part of me. It's not something I'm proud of but by choosing to not ignore it I am actively working to change how I cope with it. I am learning and it is a process filled with mistakes and moments in need of humility. My old defense mechanisms are stubborn to change.

 

I hate that I was scared to show vulnerability to the first guy I ever went on dates with. Rather than tell him how I truly felt and potentially have it not be mutual, I deflected any opportunity to let him in. Feeling my heart beat rise with excitement when he knocked at my door, I'd sit calmly reading on my couch and say the doors open. I needed to act cool. When he told me I meant more than just a hookup, I told him to stop being a girl. When he sent the final text to end what ever it was we had and he didn't want to lead me on as he wasn't looking for a relationship, I responded in text "no worries, I thought it was a hookup." The truth was that I had started to care about him. My regret is that I was his first and in my fear/weakness he will always remember me as not caring. I stole a memory from this guy that should have been a really good one.

 

I hate that upon moving back to Minneapolis, I gave up trying to include two of my closest high school friends in my adult life. The stories they had of us growing up were reminders of the anger I had felt during that time and the deuchebaggery that I had often unleashed. More truthfully, the idea of telling them I had omitted a piece of myself from them was terrifying. I cared so deeply about them and the idea of admitting to them that I had lied was more difficult than the act of abandoning them. One of them I eventually let in and the other I wish I had. He helped me get through the high school bull shit. I haven't seen him in two years but even as I am on the cusp of moving, I wonder if it is too late to say sorry. Is it too late to fix it back to where we were. I pushed them away.

 

I tell you all this as to help you understand the effect of traveling alone.  I had spent the previous day and night alone amongst my thoughts. These are not all of the incidences my mind wandered through but only a few. It is strange where your mind goes when left to its own devices. You try to stop thinking about one thing and end up focused on something you had tucked away.

 

On the morning of the trip to the quarry, everything passed by so incredibly quickly. We didn't do anything in particular that made the time pass. Tom found me early in the morning around 7am typing away in the hostel common room with a cup of coffee. It had become a ritual for me, to sit there and write when no one is moving or awake yet. The 18 year old UK gap students are all still tuckered out from the previous nights party. The recently out of college crowd is either moving quickly to get out of the hostel and on the road to do something or waiting for their gap year friends to wake up and greet the day. It's peaceful and serene.

 

Recognizing our friends would not be up anytime soon, Tom and I decided to go for Breakfast at a local café and meet our crew at Jane's Restaurant around 10 or 11. We figure they will be there. Vanessa and Fleur had fallen in love with the sweet and big sisterly comfort the owner afforded them. Vanessa as a designer loved the fusion of the restaurant and studio and had spent hours in Chiang Mai chatting with the two artist sisters that owned the place.

 

When we finally arrived at Jane's sure enough there were Vanessa and Fleur. They had picked up strays. The young British woman with a giant colorless bird tattoo encasing her leg with the word wanderlust sat quietly eyeing us up at as we entered the patio. She was weary of us and had a look of distrust to her that could only be the result of some sort of male betrayal in her past. She wore her tattoos, well done but dark makeup, and converse like punk rock traveler badge of honor. I watched her through out breakfast, she fascinated me.

 

The other two blokes at the table were David, a tall curly haired strawberry blonde musician from LA and a short very clean cut looking redhead in flowing elephant pants named Paddy. I don't actually know his name, he just kept calling himself a paddy due to his Irish Nationality. Both were gingers in their prime.

 

Normally, I am an incredibly talkative person but this table was hilarious. All I did the entire time we sat there was pretty much watch and psychoanalyze the group. Fleur and Vanessa hung over from the night before. The others a mix of hangovers and what I would guess was a pot hangover maybe more but who knows or really gives a fuck. The only one of the 5 of them that did seem to be awake and chipper was Paddy. Like an innocent child, uncomfortable by moments of silence he attempted to fill them with meaningless chatter.

 

"What's your favorite color?" He awkwardly and forcefully tries to create conversation.

 

"Are you fucking serious?" A hung over and crabby Vanessa answers back. It's amazing how when you're hung over all social politeness rules go out the window. It is just universally accepted brunch etiquette that if a person is hung over, you tread lightly. You let them enter the conversation when they feel fit. You do not and I repeat, do not try to engage the hung over person in an aggressive manner for conversation.

 

Realizing her mistake and knowing that it is not Paddy's fault she lazily tries to correct. "Blue." She says.

 

With out hesitation I chime in, "What kind of blue? Like a royal blue? A Turquoise blue?" Smiling with a shit eating grin.

 

"Fuck you, Morgan." She answers back to me. Trying to be serious, she breaks and lets through a smile. Just as I know it, she knows that if the cards were turned she'd be messing with me as well.

 

When the conversation finally turned to making a plan for the day, it was clear we were going to lose people. Some intimidated by the youtube videos of people jumping at the quarry and others to the shear pain of bad hangovers and a long motorbike drive to the location. Tom was even dreading the ride. He had met Becky on the night of the night market and Chiang Mai. It had now been 5 days that they literally had spent 24/7 together. Same room, same travel vehicles, and the same activities. Given our experience with Becky and the bikes in Pair, he knew she would not want to complete the ride solo and would ask to hop on some ones bike, his bike. He couldn't say know but so desperately wanted to. Not because of Becky but because being the driver with two people on the bike required attention. For the passenger it is fun and you can let your eyes wander about the vistas you pass, taking in fresh air at every point. For the driver your now tasked with someone else's safety, you as a result must focus on the road and cars around you.

 

Sure enough as two more hours passed and our bikes from the rental shop arrived, Paddy, Fleur, Vanessa and Bonnie had all opted out. Becky had asked to Tom to ride on his bike and Tom smiling while hiding his reluctance agreed. Given the people we knew were gone, we lazily joined forces with Davis. His friend Jordan, had picked up 2 more people, a couple from Wisconsin. Together, the  6 bikes and 7 of us would form a caravan.

 

Having formed our cohort, we asked the British, stoner looking hostel worker for directions to the quarry and then waited as he hand drew a map for us using the next 30 minutes. By the time we actually straddled the bikes and started our engines we were impatient to get to our destination. Jordan, a tall Scandinavian looking kid with a swiped hair-do and half shaved head, would be the leader. This was a mistake, having experience with motorcycles back home, he set the pace at 80km/hr. Way to fast for the city roads and local highways we would be driving. Especially given the disgusting shape our rental bikes were at and the fact that Tom had a passenger.

 

We drove for about 50 minutes on the local highway, looking for a golf course landmark that was drawn onto our map. It was the point at which we needed to turn right and cross the highway into the local roads that the quarry was on. Seeing a convenient store on the side of the road we stopped. It was clear that we were lost. Together but lost. We showed the clerks the map and attempted to say the name of the quarry. They did not speak English and we did not speak Thai. We repeated the name of the quarry and then all of the sudden like a spark of brilliance the cashier points back down the highway in the direction of where we came.

 

 

Becky chimes in that she saw a golf course about 15 minutes prior to us stopping here. Tom is not amused by this. You could tell he was annoyed by the fact that she didn't say anything to him while driving. She knew we were looking for the course but to her defense she was confused as to what size we were looking for. She had barely seen a very very small course but the hostel worker had said it would be a large country club. Large for SE Asia is miniscule for the U.S. we learned when it comes to golf.

 

Turning around we drove back, retracing our ride and quickly found the turn off. Forgetting we needed to turn again quickly after the initial exit off the highway, we found ourselves in a caravan powering through narrow country road. Hopeful that we would find the quarry if we only went further and further, we let ourselves be engulfed into the Thai countryside on this little road. It changed from farm land quickly into a jungle road that winded up and down through the mountainous forest. After about 20 minutes we came through to the entrance to a national park. We asked about the quarry. A Dutch local in the process of buying his Thai wife and his tickets, illuminated the error we had made in riding so far down the road. The turn off was only a minute or two past the exit on the highway.

 

It is strange how all of us in the Caravan were so very different but yet we shared one collective attitude towards the fact that we were lost. No one got stressed at driving the 15 minutes past our high way exit, no one stopped to question in annoyance the fact that we were probably lost on the country road, everyone just went with the flow. It was the feeling I imagine children get when they start to wander off, you see there faces light up as they discover each new thing in their path. It’s a feeling that the explorers of many years passed must have felt. You have a destination in mind but no true map. There is as a result no fear of how much time will pass.

 

Thanking the Dutchman, we turned and once again continued our journey on to find the quarry. The Thai wife had told us to look for a temple on our right and directly across from it on our left would be a shop. That was the point where we needed to take a right originally and now a left. We found it after about 20 minutes of retracing our steps.

 

By the time we got to the quarry, we had a sense of pride in our accomplishment. We had spent the afternoon searching for this treasure. You could see it on everyone's' face as we hit the clearing on the road and for the first time were able to see the sun casted orange rims of the quarry walls. As we parked our bikes a top a hill leading down into the quarry, we were taken with the sight. Off-white sand blurred into light orange that blurred into deep brown surrounding a placid body of water. The sides of the quarry were 30ft high or roughly 3 stories.  Jutting out into the center of the quarry was a narrow and raised peninsula. There were a series of these coming from all sides jutting up from the water like icebergs.

 

At the end of the peninsula we parked at was a small group of people, none of which were jumping in. We had already wondered how we would know where the jump site was in the quarry. The fact that no one was jumping did not help our queries. Knowing we only had a couple hours left of day light, we quickly descended the slope and traversed down the peninsula.

 

As we climbed to the top of the end, we were great with the jabber of English discussions on the quarry. Based on accents it was clear that the group was an eclectic mix of fellow travelers from western civilization. There was the English, the Americans, the Canadians, The Australians and the French. All the usual suspects.

 

"Have you jumped yet?" Tom and I ask excitedly.

 

"Naw, we were waiting for you." Responded spunky, young and slightly rotund Asian man.

 

"Is this where we jump?" Davis quickly asked.

 

"We' re not quite sure." The group of strangers responded.

 

Tom and I exchange looks and we have the same thought. This has to be the location of the cliff diving. There are no other access ways to the other sides of the quarry by foot. The only issue is we do not know how deep the water is and we do not know if there are any rocks or jagged sides awaiting us at the bottom of the quarry around this peninsula. I'm concerned but both Tom and I are committed to making the jump. The only decision to make is where to jump and we pretty much had that narrowed down for us.

 

While he comes across as a very type b and easy going person, the more I interact with Tom the less I think of him in this light. As we stood there on top of the clip, peering over the edge and down the drop into the water, you could see a progression of expressions cross Tom's face. The first is fear, the second is hesitation and the third is the most indicative of Tom's personality. It is the need to move, the need to act.

 

"I'm doing it." Tom forcefully states, trying to mask the chain reaction of adrenaline in his body as he commits to the jump.

 

"I'll follow you after." I say to him as we both shed our shirts and ready ourselves for the jump.

 

I grab the camera. He gives me a thumbs up and I confirm with my own thumbs up. He takes a running jump and leaps out into the air across the quarry.

 

SPLASH. We hear the water break. The group now stares patiently for what seems like ages. After a brief second and a half, Tom's head emerges from the deep opaque navy water.

 

My turn.

 

I hand the camera to Davis and get the ok that the shot is ready. I feel my heart start to pound. With each passing second it grows stronger. A shock of shivers are sent through my body, it is like electricity flowing through a closed circuit. I feel a slight heat hit my head. Fear. This is my bodies reaction to the risk that I am taking; to the fear that I am confronting.

 

I lift my left foot and push gently off with my right as if I am taking a large step from one stone to another in the middle of a pond.

 

Me taking the leap

My body quickly drops. Mind clear. Heart paused. I naturally allow my arms to go from a power pose up in the air to a locked position at my sides.  I close my eyes and it all goes black.

 

With a loud crash, I hear my feet hit the water and quickly find myself submerged. Like being jolted awake from a calm sleep my senses become heightened and I am hyper aware. I swim to the open air.

 

While the feeling of fear taking over my body was not at the level it was at when I jumped 3 years ago, it was still present. You never really relinquish your fear, you merely numb it into a dormant sleep with each passing confrontation. Fear allows you to be aware in life with.

 

Upon climbing back up the cliff it is clear that people are still hesitating to jump. You can see the symptoms of their fear across their face. They want to confront it but do not know how. They are stuck in their thoughts. I watch as the French woman goes back and forth from the center of the land to the edge of the cliff. You can see it in her face she does not want to be held back.

 

Her skin is a pale white, all color has flushed from her system. Each step she takes, you can see her thoughts churn through the idea of jumping. She swings her arms from front to back as if trying to create momentum into a decision to act. You can see her face turn between

 

"I am too old for this." She anxiously states, still toying with the idea.

 

She continues to pace back and forth. She looks at her friends for encouragement but they too are wrapped up in their own internal battle over the decision to jump. She finds herself alone. Heart racing, thoughts running wild. I imagine her thoughts drifting to the long list of questions.

 

"What if something goes wrong?"

 

"Can you get injured from jumping at this height?"

 

"How far is the hospital?"

 

"It's amazing isn't it?" I say gently to her.

 

"What? What is amazing?" I hear in a playful French accent.

 

"The way it takes hold of you. Fear. I can see it. Your heart is racing. Your body shakes and then a heat hits your head, right in the forehead and then emanates through out the rest of you."

 

With a smile and nod, she turns to me. No longer staring at the water before her.

 

"Just do it, don't think. Just do. No regrets." I find myself coaching her into a decision she so desperately wants to make.

 

"OK. I'm going."

 

With that she confidently turns and begins the process of disrobing for the jump. Handing off her shorts and shoes to her friends, she readies herself.

 

"OH. Oh. I can't believe I'm doing this. Power pose."

 

I'm ready with the camera when you are.

 

"One…. Two… Trous…"

 

My finger hits snap and the gaze of the group refocuses to the water below.

 

"I’m Aliiiiiiiiive." The woman shouts from below.

 

"That was so fucking amazing!!!. She continues to shout as she lies there floating face up in the water.

 

"AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

 

Her euphoric shouting goes on for another 3 minutes as she swims to the exit.

 

The group waits for her triumphant return. She climbs quickly to the top and with each step vocalizes how amazing she feels. What I loved about this moment is how honest and candid Karine was with her emotions. I think sometimes we are taught to hide our feelings and show no emotion. She just let it flood out of her and because of it each person after her had that much easier of a time.

 

She had faced the terror and let go of her fear for a moment, not forever, but just long enough to know that she could confront it safely. By taking the leap she became alive, no longer held back, no longer content with just foregoing opportunities. Life is for the bold, the risk takers and the dreamers. I know she will use her jump as inspiration for her travels, for her work and for her life. The action served as a powerful reminder.

 

Jumping for me was a reminder to continue confronting the things that scare me. But honestly the best part of that entire day for me was being able to be a part of this group of peoples first cliff jumping experience. Being able to be there for Karine and the others was fantastic. I've never given someone help and had that amount of ecstatic emotion pour out from them as a result. If I could do that for the rest of my life I would be a happy man.

 

Watching the rest of the group jump after Karine was too perfect. Each person had to confront the fear but did so with the encouragement of the group. They didn't hide from the fact that they were scared. They made it known. They committed to the act with trust in the group to be there for them. To push them. At the end of the day, just take the leap!

 

 

 

 

 

Stories Vol 16: Ditching the Training Wheels

 

Riding that motorbike the first day in Pai was absolutely fantastic! For me it was reminiscent of the day I got my first big kid bicycle when I was four. My Family had just moved to New York from rural Minnesota and we had been in our new home for a little less than a year. One of our neighbors asked my parents if I wanted their son's old bike. He was four years older than me and had out grown it long before that. I idolized the neighbor boy, he was four years older than me and was the pinnacle of cool for my four year old self.  I was pumped to be getting his blue and black camo bike.

 

My dad being a Type A safety first by the book kind of father quickly affixed it with training wheels. Once he was finished, he set me on the seat and told me to pedal. I pushed down on the pedal expecting ease in moving it but was met with resistance as you always are when starting to pedal from a motionless bike. I try again and this time with all my strength I push the pedal forward. The feeling is what I now imagine a freed prisoner would have. It's euphoric, for the first time I could go fast and boy did I ever. I booked it out of that drive way and road my cycle in front of the drive way.

 

It was easy; it was natural. After a few minutes, I turned my bike around and pedaled back to where my dad was standing. I told him to take the training wheels off. I was a big boy. I didn't want them. My dad's response was one of resistance but he appeased me. As he handed the bike over the second time, he held on to me, like any parent would, ensuring I wouldn't fall. Knowing better this time, I threw my weight down onto the pedals and propelled myself forward. My dad had no choice but to release his support. And with that I belted down the block. Pedaling as fast as I could. I was free.

 

While the motorbike in Pai was more like a cross between a moped and a dirt bike, the feeling of being out on the road cruising at 80km/hour was a new and freeing experience for me. I have always been terrified of bikes. As I mentioned my friends dad had lost his leg in an accident. Since then, I have avoided them at great lengths.

 

When Tom threw around the idea that he was contemplating driving a bike back from Pai to Chiang Mai. The only answer I could hear in my head was YES!!! All through out our first night, I tried to seed the idea even further in Tom's head as a good idea. Every time he seemed hesitant I would add "Seriously, if you bike to Pai I will as well." In hind sight I'm not sure if this was helping the case but I got the feeling that he did not want to do it alone.

 

 

After we finally committed to doing it during breakfast on our final day, I was in a euphoric state of excitement. The idea to be concerned about my safety as a new driver did not even cross my mind. I thought of a ton of things: my friend from General Mills, Alex French, and how he would kill to do a ride like this. Him and I had spent the last 4 months doing lunch workouts every so often and getting licensed to ride motorcycles was a frequent topic we brought up.

 

Tom and I were a little behind our schedule for getting the bikes, when we finally checked in. We had split off from the girls and the route we took to the additional waterfall was way farther than the map suggested. It took us 45 minutes just to get there going 30-40km/hr and the map said it was only 10k away. Lesson learned: Don't trust Thai maps…lol

 

Given the motorbikes we were using were crap, we decided that it would be best if we upgraded our bikes and paid the extra $1.25 USD for a nice scooter in pristine condition. The total cost for the trip was around 640 Baht or $20 USD. This included the fee for porting our bags from Pai to Chiang Mai in the Minivan. I didn't know it then but this would be the best $20 bucks I'd spend on my trip. That ride alone was worth $200 to me.

 

As for the ride itself, the only way I can describe it is with the word "MENTAL or "UNREAL." Given my inexperience, Tom lead the way through the curvy mountain pass. He set the pace at a low but reasonable pace of 40-60km/hour. Taking it slow, we had the opportunity to take in each and every view of the surrounding mountain valleys, forest pathways and so much more.

 

In a Texan accent I hear in my thoughts, "Now Morgan, you be sure to take back every sight, sound and taste."

 

My friend Mark's words echo through my thoughts. I don't want to ever forget this ride. I don't want to forget how my mind effortless slips into a state of imagination at each sharp winding bend pulling me from this life into a video game obstacle course. I am in the moment but not. At times, I actually feel like that 4 year boy riding the bike for the first time pretending it is a motorcycle. I rev the engine and hear the bike switch gears in my imagination.

 

 

The more and more, I let myself indulge in the pure amazingness of this ride, the more and more I do not want to forget it. Before leaving Pai, I had removed my camera and placed it in a holder right below the handle bars of the bike. I had figured we might stop and enjoy a view. The camera would serve to document the potential moment. As I sat there riding behind Tom, I was transfixed on preserving the memory and the camera was too easily accessible.

 

While the road itself was easy to manage, especially given the pace we were going, my only concern was the on coming traffic. This is the road is the most windy in Thailand and the local drivers do not use caution when taking the turns. As we come to a bend, Tom slows and looks up the hill around the hidden curves for oncoming vehicles. Despite this, often times we still were surprised by a car whipping around the turn pushing us to the far shoulder of the road near the cliff. Making one mistake, the reality of turning too sharply to avoid a car and riding off the road is all to real.

 

Despite my better judgment, as you can see I can't resist documenting the experience. I watch Tom slow to round a bend and do the same. As I slow, I remove my left hand from the handle bar and grab for my camera. I put it between my legs and thread my hand through the wristlet. I put the case back in holder and with my left thumb turn the camera only.

 

With the camera on automatic, I point it in the direction of Tom. I can't see the screen or take the time to make sure I'm framing any sort of picture. I pray to the travel gods that I'm getting good shots. With each photo I take, I get more and more confident to the point that the idea of a motorcycle selfie pops in my head. I used to hate the selfie, but more and more over the last year, I've become numb to the vainness and ridiculousness of it. There in the moment I decide to yet again embrace the selfie.

 

As I take the photo, a car comes speeding past me. The wind tunnel it creates pulls my bike to a wobble. I throw my hand back on the left bar to steady the bike. My heart begins to race and the rush of adrenaline from fear kicks in. I put the camera away and decide to focus on the road.

 

We drive for what seems like an hour, when we come across a coffee shop tucked away in the mountain road. Tom slows and puts his blinker on. I follow suit. In the process of parking our bikes, I turn to Tom and flash a look of guilt.

 

"Soooooo…I might have done something stupid." My voice rises to an upbeat on the word stupid.

 

Tom looked slightly confused but upon seeing the camera, he knows what I've done. "Yeah, that was fucking stupid. They better be worth it."

 

"They're pretty freaking good!...... Worth it." I answer back.

 

During our coffee and cheese cakes in this middle of nowhere café resort, we look through the pictures. They are pretty phenomenal. By far the best souvenir I will have from the trip. Tom and I echo each others euphoria.

 

Mark--if you are reading this, thank you for the words. Wouldn’t have documented the moment had it not been for the words.

 

Finishing our coffee, we pack up and get on the road. Its 5:45 and we had promised Vanessa/Fleur that we would be back for an opening pool party at our hostel at 6. We still had an hour and a half on the road.

 

During the back half of the ride, I find myself back in a state of introspection and reflection. I think about the conversations I've had with my many travel companions. I hear the questions pouring through my thoughts, jumping in what seems like a random way, the different topics. 

 

What do I want to do when I get back? What do I need to be happy?

 

Did I make the right decision?

 

How am I going to let go of what has happened? I need to let go.

 

I'm moving, is it too late for sorry?

 

Maybe I should tell him.

 

Stories Vol 15: Chasing Waterfalls

 

 

 

When I decided to go to Pai while in Koh Phi Phi, I thought I would be spending more than a couple days in the city. I had been told that the city was relaxed and very hippy. You essentially go there to visit waterfalls (there are heaps of them), relax in the hot springs, trek in the rain forest and do a lot of recreational drugs while sitting in hammocks. Had this been a different trip and at a different stage in my life, who knows maybe I would have partaken in the last of the listed activities. This trip however is about clearing my head and hitting refresh, a detox from all of the nights out over the past 6 years and cleanse of all life's stresses. A drug trip was not on the agenda.

 

Before heading out of Chiang Mai, Vanessa and Fleur, mentioned that they were going to a quarry in the Chiang Mai to cliff jump two days after the me leaving for Pai. Interested in joining them, I told them if they pushed it out another day I would only spend one night in Pai and two days. Tom joined in on my plan as well.

Given we only had two days in Pair, after we finished up the first night in Pai, we corralled and figured out a game plan for the following day. We decided we would leave the hostel around 8, get breakfast in town and then take the motorbikes around Pai to the different waterfalls, Tom and I also tossed around the idea of driving bikes back from Pai to Chiang Mai. We had heard that you could do this but doing it was dependent on how Tom was feeling and the weather. It is after all rainy season here in SE Asia. Having had a blast on the bike through out that first day, I wishfully prayed for good weather and Tom to get better.

When we woke up the next day we were a little slow at getting out the door. Tom having spent most of the previous day on the toilet was quite chipper. It was clear that his stomach bug was passing. Sherry was anxious to get going and Becky was still contemplating whether she would head back with Sherry, Tom and me later that day. You could tell that Becky wanted to stay a bit longer in Pai but fresh out of college and doing her first solo extended travel trip, she buckled to the group and opted to come with Tom and I to the cliff jumping. Sherry was leaving early to catch a flight to Cambodia.

 

Taking our bikes from their parked positions, we headed out for the day. Having liked the café Becky and I stopped at the previous day we went back and got breakfast. Each of us made a different selection for the food. Choosing an egg option, a veg option, a starch option and a juice option. As we sat there eating our meal we pulled out a map and contemplated routes. Tom and I, decided in an impulsive fashion to bike back to Chiang Mai and so we needed to be back at the bike rental place in Pai by 3pm. This meant we had a very very tight schedule if we were to hit more than one waterfall and the hot springs.

 

The girls pushed for a route that would minimize the distance between our first waterfall and the hot spring. The next part of the route would have us traveling back up towards the area where the hostel was, after all we needed to pick up our bags (my heifer of a pack). With a route in place, we booked it out of town. To keep Sherry, who had just been in a bad moped crash on the Thai Islands, and Becky, who was still new to the bike, comfortable we went at a slightly slower speed then you would normally take on these types of roads.

 

In all honesty, I was torn between going a fast pace and going slow to enjoy the scenic views. All of the waterfalls are tucked back in the forests and are only accessible by these narrow poorly paved roads. They kind of remind me of the paved pathways you see around lakes and in parks that are meant for cyclists, runners and walkers. For safety purposes as a new driver, it is best to take these roads with care and a watchful eye for sand and dirt on sharp turns.

 

Feeling adventurous and wanting to explore, I decided to go ahead of our caravan. I'd speed up and bolt until I could no longer see my friends in my side mirrors. At that point, I would stop and just enjoy the view of the Thai Country side. Being the photo whore I am on this trip, it did not take long for me to break out my camera.

 

One of the things I love about taking photos while traveling, is that I have a keen opportunity to capture memories that other people are making with me. There is something about capturing them in a candid moment. It isn't posed and so it perfectly illustrates the experience. The idea that this is what I can gift my travel friends is amazing to me. I hope that in 30 years they can look back at those photos of them in the moment and feel hurled back into the moment with vivid accuracy.

 

So for the rest of the day, I booked it ahead of the pack. At each bend, I would stop, whip out my camera and capture the group riding through the Thai forests while admiring the scenery. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty proud of the pics I snapped. :)

 

 

 

The first waterfall was fantastic. You walk into the woods and up a little path. As you near the top of the first set of stone placed stairs, you see a bubbling brook. You trace the stream up to a rock face where the water just delicately glides down the side. Above it is a wooden foot bridge leading you deeper into the forest's path and hopefully an actual waterfall. The sight none the less is breath taking. It's something you would imaging out of Huck Finn.

 

 

 

I stop to take a couple of photos and then we continue on the path and across the bridge. As we hike up a slight hill on the other side, we see the image of a waterfall tucked back in a rock face surrounding three sides of a rounded square. The pool in front of the waterfall is about 30 feet below us down a sloped path.

 

 

Being the five year old I am, I bolt down it. My comrades take a few moments at the top and then quickly follow suit. As I wade through the rock ridden bottom of the pool, closer to the waterfall itself, all I can think about is the fish that exists in the Amazon that swims up your urethra, latches on and then grows. It's an irrational fear but the thought does cross my mind. 

 

For the next 15 to 20 minutes we take photos and capture the scenery. Some are silly, some are serious, the purpose is to capture the emotion of the moment. I chose to pose mid rock climb and while doing a cannon ball into the pool. I am just incredibly happy in that moment. I feel alive. I feel like the kid we all used to be before the adults and peers around us coached out our imaginative thinking and impulse to wander.

As we finish up at the first waterfall, we realize it is 12 already and that we need to book it if we are going to see anything more than the hot spring especially given the bike speed we are going. With a quick goodbye to our waterfall, we head out for the hot springs.

 

What I love about road signs in Thailand, is that the distances quoted until a location are not accurate, and especially on the side roads that lead to these hidden wonders. The time you a lot for getting to locations as a result is grossly underestimated. Because of this we were only able to briefly hit up the hot springs near the waterfall.

 

The hot springs were cool but really nothing too exciting. At that point in the day, we were all fairly wrapped up in our own thoughts and the springs served as a time for each of us to reflect. We made jokes about the lack of sanitation in the pools meant for visitors to rest in and at one point I put my foot in my mouth.

 

 

As we sat at one of the springs with our feet in the water, a couple, looking to be of Brazilian ethnicity, disrobed down to their bathing suits. The woman in a small bikini and the guy to a very small and revealing Speedo. Sherry caught me staring and laughs.

 

"What? I know it's bad, I just can't stop looking! They're really hot." I say to Sherry, not even trying to speak softly so the couple cannot hear. At this Tom's head pops up. Almost like you'd see a prairie dog do out in the wild. Rather than sit quietly, I decide to voice my thoughts. I should never do this.

 

"You know, there are just some couples that you wouldn't mind watching. You know what I mean? I'm not a voyeur or anything, but those are two really fucking hot people. How do they both have bums you could bounce a quarter off?"

 

About 30 seconds after I say this the couple begins to talk for the first time.

 

"FUCK!" I think to myself. "The girl is not Brazilian but American. The guy has an accent but speaks perfect English none the less.

 

Realizing my mistake and only slightly embarrassed by my forward commentary, I turn to my group and motion for us to continue on exploring the other springs. We lose sight of the couple and quickly explain myself. The group laughs.

 

At about 1:30, we decide to leave the springs. Tom and I have very little time left to explore and decide to break off from the girls who are taking the 5pm minivan back to Chiang Mai. We want to see another waterfall but it is at the far side of Pai. If we continue with the girls we will not be able to go fast enough in order to make it. With that the group splits. Tom and I visit the waterfall and get lost in the process. We make it back to the rental office just in time to trade the bikes in for more powerful ones and take off for Chiang Mai.

 

As I sit there in the office, my last thought is on the process in which we "educate" children. During that day I rediscovered the thrill of exploring the outdoors and it awoke a piece of my imagination that I force into dormancy each time I return to everyday life. Children naturally have this ability and yet we coach out those that hold onto it past a certain age. Why isn't it acceptable to play, to imagine and to dream as an adult? Why is it so important that we live in a "real" world?