adventure | Captivated Me

December 30, 2022

Mount Batur: The joy in the journey.

You know those excitable people who are always game for an obscenely early morning awakening, if it means doing or seeing something wonderful? I might be one of them… And it’s been a blessing to have found friends along the road of life who have a similar disposition. The flights, hikes and road trips we’ve taken that started hours before the first hint of dawn are numerous. There is something sweet and thrilling about these mornings and the tingle of anticipation that transmits through your body as you embark.

This is such a morning here in Bali. I woke up just before 2 AM, donned my hiking gear and boots, and I now wait outside the villa for the driver who will whisk me away to today’s adventure. The morning is calm, and the day is overflowing with promise.

The van arrives, and in the back seat I meet two other travelers who become fast friends. Hedda is here enjoying a yoga holiday far from her homeland in Sweden, and Luna is visiting Bali for several weeks from Korea. This – this – is one of the things I adore about travel, whether close to home or in far-off lands. If you journey with an open heart, travel will collide your story with the perspectives, ways, and stories of other people who you can share laughter and life lessons with, even if the moments are fleeting. And you can discover greater breadths and depths of God’s creative beauty along the way.

We navigate along dark, narrow, undulating roads for about 45 minutes, feeling safe the whole time because our driver is so expert, and we eventually arrive in the Kintamani Highlands – a calm landscape boasting both volcanic and pastoral views in the heart of Bali. We file out of the van one-by-one and are greeted by our kind hiking guide, Kopang. The air smells of sulphur, and our visibility is limited by the pre-dawn hour and a whimsical fog. But we know that we are standing at the foot of Mount Batur.

Our mission, which we’ve all accepted, is to climb to this volcano’s crest in time to see the sun rise.

Headlamps strapped to our foreheads and trekking poles in hand, we start out on flat ground, briefly weaving through expanses of farmland laden with crops and tin-roofed dwellings. Soon, we meet the trail that heads straight. up. the mountain. And for about ninety minutes, we hike at a steady pace and at an incline that is sure to add shape to anyone’s glutes and hamstrings. The ground under us transmogrifies from rocky terrain to a soft, fine, granular black soot, almost akin to hiking the sand dunes of the Sahara. We ascend higher and higher, even into a blanket of clouds that refreshes us with a light rainfall, and we giggle with delight, encourage each other to persevere, and share insights from our respective holidays as we go. Eventually, we summit to the ominous lip of the volcano’s crater where we sit to sip coffee and eat the breakfast our guide had graciously prepared earlier in the morning.

We sit and sit, awaiting a glorious break in the rainclouds. And we see…

Nothing.

We watch.

And wait.

And watch some more.

The hour for daybreak comes and goes. Our hands and noses are chilled from the altitude. The clouds we are waiting in illuminate from black to a jubilant grey.

No sunrise.

But wait a minute. Looking around, there is actually plenty to see. There are fellow hikers speaking a multitude of different languages. There are hot natural steam vents lining Batur’s crest that we use to warm our hands. There are wispy, dancing clouds and mists blowing around, above, behind and below us. There is hardy vegetation that extends over the edge of the crater and into the inner depths of Mount Batur that are presently concealed by fog. There is no shortage of joy, discovery, or beauty here just because it happens to be a cloudy day. And the sunrise, well, it’s there. We can’t see it. But its light still illuminates our day, and that – in itself – is a blessing.

I wonder, how often do we allow our expectations of an experience to cloud our journey through the experience itself? How often do we focus more on the outcome we hope for rather than on the joy, learning, and beauty to be gleaned from each step of the hike, each memory of sharing smiles and stories with others, each warm gesture that touches something cold or numb within us?

Is life not more rhythmic, more peaceful, and also more exciting when we allow each day to just be what it is – rain or shine – rather than demanding that it meet our expectations? When we lean into the loveliness and spontaneity around us no matter the circumstances? When we simply treasure each moment, each breath, each connection as the gift that it is, without prescribing or judging how it ‘should be’?

We snap some photos from the summit, enjoy the comfort of coffee mugs in our hands, and connect some more among our group. We then descend by the same trail that we rose from, and after returning below the level of the clouds, we are swept away by serene views of the highlands that were invisible to us during our ascension in the dark. We continue to visit, and we learn that today is Kopang’s birthday. We celebrate her before saying a warm ‘goodbye’, as our excursion continues.

Our group of three is escorted next to a collection of nearby hot springs. We enjoy a sweet tomato juice that is just as refreshing as all of the other cuisine and libations we have encountered here in Bali. We soak our muscles in the soothing pools, surrounded by beautiful views of Danau Batur (Lake Batur) and the mysterious Gunung Abang (Mount Abang), another local volcano. We then tour a third-generation coffee plantation to taste-test a variety of herbal teas and coffees native to Indonesia. This includes the acclaimed Kopi Luwak (for reference: http://www.kopiluwak.org/baru/index.html) which is an experience unto itself. We sit near an open-air treehouse on the plantation, overlooking the vast jungle, acquainting more and more. Butterflies flutter by, which bring to mind my grandfather who passed in 2021. I lift a cheers to him with a cup of plain black coffee – his favorite.

Hedda, Luna and I pile into our tour van for the drive home to Ubud, eyes and hearts and stomachs filled with cheer. We exchange contact information and are sure to continue following each other’s adventures.

I am the first to be dropped off, and after hugs and a universal ‘so wonderful to meet you’, I walk to Samyama Eatery one final time for an unbelievable, fresh Indonesian meal. I have pep in my step, partly out of gratitude for the incredible day, and partly because I’m due to meet my taxi for transport to the airport soon.

It’s the night before New Year’s Eve, and I am setting course for Singapore.

May 7, 2022

Forbidden and Hidden.

Two gorgeous treks unfolded before my feet over the past couple of weeks, and I would love to share them with you:

Forbidden Island: One of the many scenic hikes on the island, Forbidden is an adventurer’s favorite. Starting on the cliffside overlooking the Pacific to the east, you begin by hiking through jungle to breathtaking views of two separate coves. The first is a sheer drop-off where you can see the lush jungle rising up to your left side, the clear turquoise water below crashing on the reef, and a rocky cliff to the right. You then continue through tall and dense foliage to a somewhat gentler slope that you hike down to approach the island itself. From the shore, you can venture northeast along the beach to a junction with gorgeous views of both coves, forward into the channel between Saipan and Forbidden Island, or hike the cliffs and caves to the southeast. This particular day, we braved the channel, swollen with large waves and current as the tide changed, and spent a few minutes exploring the uninhabited, rugged, flat-topped Forbidden Island. Birds sung overhead, and would perch on the large boulders towering all around us. Gorgeous views of Saipan were seen from here. These moments were memorable and magical, even more so given I hiked here on the one year anniversary of my grandfather’s death. It proved to be a special place to heal and sit with the gratitude I feel for my grandfather and for his precious role in my life.

Hidden Beach: I parked my car at the end of a paved roadway, and walked along a palm-lined gravel path to a rugged stairway leading toward the ocean. A sweet sun shower sprinkled down from fluffy clouds above as I walked, refreshing my skin from the heat of the day. The clouds dispersed, and the sun shone on a tiny gem of a stretch of sand ahead. Hidden Beach boasts clear aquamarine waters, a crocodile-shaped rock formation, and a large stony shelf not far off shore where waves crash, causing immense ocean sprays. I came here after a 24-hour call shift, took photos, and marveled for hours at the rolling water, and at how I somehow had this stunning vista all to myself.

Sending love and hugs, smiles and sunshine. 💛 Have a beautiful week!

March 18, 2022

Of farewells and fáilte.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields,
and until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

I am seated right now in a cozy corner of my favorite Hamline-Midway coffee shop. The bright spring sunshine filters in through a full wall of windows. A pair of friends are situated at the table beside me enthralled in conversation about European furniture. Ben Howard is softly serenading the shop with his thoughtful melody ‘Old Pine’. A refreshing mint chocolate chip cupcake with green and gold sprinkles (it is St. Patrick’s Day, after all) tickles my tastebuds. A bold, rich coffee brew is warm on my tongue. And soft, grateful tears are cool on my cheeks as I take a moment to pause, reflect, and process the past few days, weeks, months.

I have abided in this room countless times since I moved to the neighborhood in 2018. A brief drive or a slightly lengthier walk from my home, I often came here to think, journal, visit with friends, or read – Today, my aim is no different. But, in many ways, it feels very different. Because this time, I have no concept of when I will have the opportunity to come back.

2022 to date has been an extended farewell, the longest ‘Minnesota goodbye’ that I personally have ever said.

In three days, I will bid adieu to the house that has been my hygge-haven for four deep and sweet years. Heartbreak has roamed the halls, and so has healing. The walls have heard laughter and crying; the windows have witnessed abuse, restoration, and ultimately miraculous joy and safety and peace. Packing and moving these past several weeks has been an immense but liberating process, as I sifted through and donated or sold clothing and furniture and other items best suited for others. I reviewed collections of keepsakes, ticket stubs, greeting cards, journals, and more dating back to my elementary years, taking a hilarious trip down Memory Lane. I repackaged a few while releasing others, experiencing ever-increasing levity with each letting-go. And as I physically renovated my environment, I felt God gently probing and renovating my own heart, calling me into deeper trust in Him. I was reminded of how Jesus offers to exchange any heaviness we carry for His perfect peace; how we are charged to cast aside anything that weighs us down or would cause us to stumble so we can navigate life with light and hopeful hearts; how He delights in doing ‘a new thing’, making streams in the desert and ways in the wilderness. My heart is always encouraged, jubilant at the thought of this!

Then, in six days, I board a plane to start the next volume of this journey. My heart’s passions are people, Pediatrics, art, cultures, language, nature, wellness, joy, and prayer. My heart’s desire is to love God and others extravagantly; steward whatever time or treasure or talent I am given in this life wisely and well and for the good; and learn and grow as God’s daughter, as a woman, physician, relative, and friend along the way. In the coming season, I am grateful for the opportunity to keep practicing all of these things in Saipan, an island gem nestled in a region of Micronesia called the Northern Mariana Islands. This archipelago – composed of limestone and volcano – has a rich and complex cultural, geographic and historical landscape that I cannot wait to learn more about. But until then, I am savoring each moment here in the Midwest, among the people and places that will always come to mind when I think of home, no matter where on earth the next months and years lead.

And so, grief and gratitude and excitement all coexist in this moment, tied together by peace. Releasing what is behind, grabbing hold of what is to come. Leaving the familiar for the uncharted. Turning away from the past, but bringing the lessons with me to the present and stepping forward into something brand new – a blank canvas ready to come to life, a block of clay waiting to be molded and shaped. Not knowing (and not needing to know) what the finished product will be, but simply delighting in the process, seizing each precious moment, and living each day to the fullest.

And as this season’s farewells with family and close friends have unfolded, what a treasure and a privilege each has been. I am humbled and awestruck – How blessed I feel to journey through life with such loving, golden-hearted people. How sweet that technology can bridge the gap “until we meet again”.

And as I step forward into what is to be – Saipan and, thereafter, God only knows – my soul says an open and whole-hearted céad míle fáilte (Irish for “hundred thousand welcomes”) to any direction He would take me, any new friends and experiences and lessons that await me, any joy or trial that lies ahead.

Farewell, beautiful Minnesota.

Fáilte to this moment, and whatever comes next.