When Josh got the news he was about to become a dad, he thought his adventurous life was over. Little did he know the real adventure was beginning. And with it, a whole new perspective on what adventure means.

 

It’s a word that gets thrown around pretty freely. A bit like the gear recommendations you’re happy to make, even if the receiver didn’t ask for them. So I asked Google what the definition of ‘adventure’ actually is.

‘An unusual and exciting or daring experience.’ 

Pretty simple right? Well I guess it depends who you are.

I’ve been very lucky to have spent a good chunk of my life working and playing outside, with a lot of it in adventure-based jobs – instructing, guiding, and selling outdoor gear. So the unusual side of the definition has somewhat become the norm for me. As has the exciting and daring parts. 

 

 

I lived my life at the whim of the seasons and weather, ready to drop everything to answer the call that comes with a life of adventure. But as my life situation started to change I could see a dark haze on the horizon, somewhat like the fog that always manages to ruin an epic pow day.

 

 

By the time I got the news that I was going to become a Dad, that dark haze was a storm directly above me. Adventure FOMO had arrived.

This may seem tad dramatic, but it’s more than just the adrenaline of sending it downhill on a new whip that I felt I was giving up. It was the whole process that a single adventure entails:

The Excitement of What’s in Store

The excitement and anticipation in the lead up to an adventure can sometimes be the best part. From concocting ideas with your mates, to preparing gear, to planning the itinerary, it’s all part of this massive pre-game suspense. It’s similar to the feeling I had as a five-year-old on Christmas Eve, trying to go to sleep wondering what Santa had for me stuffed in his sleigh.

Actually Doing It

There’s nothing better than when a good plan goes to plan. Especially when you’re having a right old time in the process. You stamp your brain with memories that’ll last a lifetime and you feel bloody satisfied with what you’ve achieved.

 

 

The Morning After

Just like a well-built campfire the morning after an epic adventure, you’re left with this small but smouldering ember that’ll keep your adventure fire burning. It simmers away in the background, unassuming, ready for the right time and conditions when it can flare up again and run wild.

So why did looming parenthood feel like my adventure flame was about to be snuffed out?

Don’t get me wrong, the lead up to the arrival of my kid was a truly special time in my life. For both me and my partner, witnessing something growing and evolving was honestly awe-inspiring. But it was very different from a life that revolved around outdoor adventure.

Instead of taking my cues from the environment – swell for a surf, snow for a ski, rain for a climb, heat for a run – I was suddenly led by what my body, or my partner’s body, wanted to do.

All of a sudden, dropping everything to chase perfect surf took a backseat to sourcing the random food my partner was craving, or helping her through a wave of nausea. Sure, there were moments where I’d sneak in a run here or a ride there, but it was definitely a subdued version of what I was used to.

Then the big day arrived. To be honest the whole process is a bit of a blur. I can recall snippets of it, but as a whole it flew past.

But the one moment I still remember clearly, and the one that changed my whole perspective, was when I first took my newborn son, Huey, outside.

It was an overcast day in May, not cold but not warm. I had him wrapped up like a baby burrito. I’d never been more surefooted in my life.

As we walked outside I could see and feel his little body truly come alive. His nose flared as it took in a eucalyptus-scented breath, his eyes fluttered with their first feeling of sunlight, and right on cue, the never-before-heard song of a Willie Wagtail brought a slight smile to his tiny face.

As I stood there, with him in my arms, I looked up at the sun shooting through the broken clouds. I felt like I was in the opening scene from The Matrix where the numbers speed past and then suddenly you’re left with a burst of white light. In that moment, I realised the true meaning of adventure.

To me, the small garden off to the side of the entrance to the hospital was in no way an adventurous environment. Hell you couldn’t even pitch a one man tent there it was so small. But for Huey, the small trees, the slight glimpse of the moving clouds, and the little Willie Wagtail was the biggest adventure he’d ever been on. 

Fast forward two and a half years and that day still sits clear in my mind. It’s a moment that reset the adventure compass for me.

 

 

I no longer see adventure as being about how remote you can go, how gnarly the activity can be, or how regularly you do it. But instead it’s about what experiences you have. Or in my case, the experience I have watching Huey experience something for the first time.

I still get the joy of concocting new and exciting adventures to go on. Now Huey and I do it over Google Maps, finding the best track to ride or the best secret beach for a picnic. 

 

 

I still get to go on adventures. Now my bike has a Kids Ride Shotgun seat on the front instead of a bikepacking bag.

And I still get to keep the adventure fire burning, only now it’s documented in crayon drawings from our trips and in the trail treasure we collect on our way.

I realised I was suffering from Adventure FOMO prior to becoming a Dad, I just didn’t know it. And the cure? I just needed to look at my adventurous life from a different perspective.

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