My recent adventures on Mt. Wrightson (in SE Arizona) had me wondering how my next hike in the Cascades would go. Last week Ajax and I hiked one of my favorite trails, Mt. Washington. I wanted to apply newly learned lessons in familiar conditions. The mountains were calling and I had to go… But this time, I set intentions that were different from my usual hikes.
The views of Mt. Rainier are breathtaking from many of the hikes along the I-90 corridor, including Mt. Washington, one of my favorite Cascades hikes.
Micro Intentions
I can hear you now. You’re probably remembering another post on intentions that I wrote at the start of the year. And you would be correct. That post addressed big-picture intentions (what some call “goals.”) You can use the same principle for small, daily objectives as well.
Often when I hike, I go wherever my mind and body suggest would be the most fun on any given day. Variables to consider might include weather, time, distance, elevation gain, and whether it’s a good place for shade, streams, snow, or solitude. Rattlesnake Ledge tops the list of places to avoid, as there are usually two dogs for every five people, a steady stream like ants on an anthill. Not the solitary wilderness experience we desire.
One of my set intentions for this trip was to include regular snack breaks. Ajax seemed to approve of this change.
Sample Intentions
I chose Mt. Washington. But not for reasons you might think. You can set intentions before you leave the house, or you can wait until you pull into the parking lot. An intention is an objective you want to reflect upon or work on as you hike.
Someone who usually races to the top may set an intention to be more mindful of the scenery. A hiker who feels energetic might set an intention to take fewer rest breaks. Another might want to see what happens when they change from eating a sandwich to snacking on trail mix and a protein shake. Someone else might want to try to identify five new flowers or birds. Intentions, like goals, can be anything that matters TO YOU.
The stream just beyond the Great Wall sign has overflowed the river bank, but it is still passable. A pole may help with footing. Ajax hesitated for a moment but followed me across.
My Set Intentions for May 11 Hike
Many of my clients enlist my help as their trainer to develop strength and speed. My intentions for this hike included metrics of a different kind. Based on what I learned on Mt. Wrightson, I set the following intentions:
Take two short 2-minute mind-body breaks during the first hour to adjust clothing and give Ajax water
Include a 10-minute snack break at the lake to put on traction for snow conditions if needed
Pause for 30-60 minutes at the summit to listen for birds, look for jays, take photos, and have a snack
Use the Merlin Bird ID app to see how many spring warblers and sparrows I could identify
Build my heat resilience and tolerance (we’ve had some unseasonally warm weather)
Learn what the current snowpack is like to recommend hikes for local Pacific Northwest clients
The last one was an afterthought. I’d seen WTA (Washington Trails Association) trip reports and knew we’d be on snow, but I wasn’t sure how low it started. I had microspikes, a sit pad, and a pole in case we encountered icy conditions. While I am glad I carried both, in most areas the snow is so soft you can manage without traction. A pole, however, is useful for recovering from postholes or crossing higher-than-usual streams.
The “turnstile” on the way up the last part of Mt. Washington, just beyond the lake.
Other than my Keen hiking boots, a pole and microspikes helped in the snow. My traction devices ended up coming off about ten minutes after I put them on; I decided they were more hassle than help.
Results of Our Experiment
In anticipation of swarms of people taking advantage of the unusually nice, sunny weather, we left the car at 5:30 a.m. We were the first to arrive. Each of our breaks served a specific purpose. We reached the summit with energy to spare and had there not been as much snow, we would have added a detour along the Great Wall on the descent.
We reached snow just beyond the sign that indicates the left-hand turnoff for the Great Wall. Above the river crossing, Ajax punched through in several spots. The trail has way more snow than I have seen at this time in May. With the warm weather, it should melt quickly. Expect snow in places until at least June 21.
Ajax is a real trooper. He may not appreciate the views as I do, but I sure do appreciate HIM.
Expect post-holing right now. As soon as I noticed Ajax punching through, I started to as well. We avoided tree wells and narrow snow bridges. Wherever we could, we stayed on the dirt trail so we wouldn’t unexpectedly lose our footing. At one point the trail headed straight up a steep snowy slope. Fortunately on the trip down we were able to find and stay on the switchbacks.
Brought to you by one very happy snow-loving hiker…
and her equally happy-to-rest pooch, Ajax!
Set Intentions: Become Happy Hikers
As for the results of setting intentions, we identified 17 bird species from their songs. We spotted Mt. Rainier, Mt. Baker, and Glacier Peak under some of the most brilliant blue skies ever. I came home with three times more photos than usual.
We had the mountain entirely to ourselves except for three women starting up as we returned to the car. And now I can steer clients to appropriate hikes because I have first-hand experience of how high the snowpack is. Best of all, despite adding deliberate rest stops, our pace was comparable to other hikes up the mountain. Mission accomplished!
If you have experimented with setting micro-intentions for your hikes, please feel free to share your results in the comments section so we can all pool our knowledge and learn from one another.
Last week, I described a birding trip to the top of Mt. Wrightson as part of my friend Pam Keyes’ video series for female hikers over 50. Be sure to enjoy her ten-minute video that accompanies this two-part series. I never expected to receive such valuable lessons in humility on the descent.
A beautiful April day in SE Arizona. I love the way clouds cast shadows on the ridges below.
The Approach
Before we reached our lunch spot, Pam received a text from her son Zach, a Type-1 Diabetic, that his blood sugar levels needed checking. Cell service is intermittent in the Santa Rita Mountains, depending on one’s provider. I had no service until we left the mountain, but Pam’s worked fine. We’d had a similar experience in Alaska so I wasn’t all that surprised. I almost never use my phone when I ramble with Ajax in the mountains except to take pictures.
Since Pam was able to track her son’s progress, we knew he’d reach the summit before we did. At one point we received a text asking if we had turned around. With so many switchbacks, it was understandable why someone might interpret your dot as going down rather than up. She assured him we were on our way, but if he wanted to head down before we got to the summit, he could.
Ponderosa, Apache pines, and silverleaf oaks dot the landscape the higher you climb. Sycamores are more common lower in the valley. Summer fires including the Sawmill Fire (2017) and the Florida Fire (2005) often burn through wide swaths of the mountains leaving behind dramatic snags for birds to repurpose.
As we climbed steep switchbacks toward Old Baldy Saddle, the birdsong disappeared. A few turkey vultures and dozens of ravens soared on thermals. The views became more dramatic, as did the sun’s intensity. Having had a number of basal cell carcinomas removed over the years, I keep my skin covered even on hot days. I relished the few breezes that passed through on the sun-scorched slope.
Old Baldy Saddle
At Old Baldy Saddle, the wind increased. I knew we had less than a mile to go, but plenty of elevation to gain. The sight of a couple of hikers in front of us awakened my competitive spirit. Maybe I could pass them.
Pam continues at a steady pace with Old Baldy Saddle behind her.
Pam insisted I go ahead and she’d follow. I picked up my pace, snapping photos along the way. I marveled at the terrain we’d traversed, including the winding path back to Old Baldy Saddle. A few minutes from the top, a ground squirrel stared at me, as if begging for handouts. Until that point, we had heard plenty of birds and seen a few lizards, but no mammals.
A brave ground squirrel blends in with his rocky surroundings.
Summit Experience
Around 1:30, I reached the summit. A rock ring remains the only indicator of the fire lookout tower that burned down in 1973. After greeting Zach and telling him his mom would be up shortly, I found a good spot so I could record her arrival.
Zach continued chatting with the other hikers. He looked refreshed, not at all like he’d gained 4,000 feet of elevation over 6 miles.
“We took good care of him,” several of the hikers promised, assuring us that they’d shared their sunscreen, food, and water. “He’s a good kid,” another man, Dave, added.
Panorama of the summit of Mt. Wrightson. Zach started down before us. Lessons in humility include carrying more water than you expect to need.
When Zach asked if I had any extra food, I handed him an apple. I also had an entire bag of trail mix, but the last thing I wanted to do was eat.
Lessons in Humility: Dwindling Water
Of greater concern was my dwindling water supply. In the Cascades, 3.5 liters is enough for a 15-mile hike. With my dog. With leftovers. But in SE Arizona, it only carried me halfway. As I downed my last few swallows of Keppi lemon-lime electrolytes water I remembered I still carried Pam’s completely full two-liter bag. Perhaps she could spare some.
When Dave, one of the men trading stories with Zach, offered me some water “to lighten his load,” I gratefully accepted. The ice-cold temperature made up for the bland flavor.
With a liter from Pam and another half liter generously supplied by Dave, I felt confident I’d have enough for the trip down. I also predicted that my mild headache (presumably from altitude) would abate as we descended. We probably could reach the car in two hours. Down is always faster.
Pam enjoying the summit of Mt. Wrightson.
I took several last shots with my DSLR camera. I’d carried the extra weight up, and by golly, I was going to use it! My last task was to sign the summit register. Camera and binoculars stowed, and after enjoying the summit for half an hour, we started down.
Rejoining Walt
When we reached Old Baldy Saddle we got a pleasant surprise: Walt! He had continued up from his earlier resting spot. What wasn’t a surprise was that Zach had taken the car keys and continued down alone. He struck me as a remarkably independent and capable teenager.
At the summit, I’d considered asking Pam if I could use her phone at the Saddle to let my husband know we were running long. I forgot. As we started down the sun-baked switchbacks, Pam handed me her phone. Everything changed.
The path from Old Baldy Saddle to the summit. Snow patches remain in late April at 9,000 feet elevation. Lessons in humility: know the warning signs of heat illnesses.
Lessons in Humility: Warning Signs
My headache got progressively worse, not better. I finally asked Pam if she had any painkillers. Ibuprofen is a staple in most First Aid kits, but it’s contra-indicated for me. I couldn’t come up with the word “Tylenol” to save my life. She also noticed that my face was quite red despite wearing a hat and sunscreen. Despite doing everything right, including staying hydrated, protecting sensitive skin from the sun, eating, and replacing valuable electolytes, my body needed help cooling down.
Squirrels and birds have adapted to the harsh SE AZ conditions. As a Seattleite for over 35 years, I’m used to rain and snow. I knew the heat could be an issue but I had no idea it would affect me so much.
Bellows Spring Revisited
When we reached Bellows Spring, I grabbed the magenta scarf from my pack and soaked it in the trickle of water from the snow. That first squeeze of cool water on my face felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.
At some point, Walt reappeared (Had he waited for us? Had she texted him? Was he still recording video for her project?) Pam explained her concerns about my overheating. “We’ll just take it slow on the way down. Lots of breaks,” they said. Wait, what? I’m usually fastest on the descent. What the heck was going on?
We did THAT? A view on the way down through the woods. My phone was very low on batteries so I took precious few photos on the way down. Plus my focus was getting to the car safely.
“Put your whole hat in the stream and get it wet, too,” they suggested. Oh my goodness, pure bliss. For several minutes after that, I felt invincible. Until nausea and headache continued.
“Take your scarf off every so often so your body can get rid of the heat,” they suggested. Pam shared stories of two people she’d helped in the past who had heat stroke. One ended up in the hospital. I won’t. No more hospitals for ME!
A view of the reclamation pond. The burned slope provided little in the way of shade from the mid-afternoon sun.
Heat Illnesses
Hearing her use the word “stroke” jarred me. I knew from all my first aid training that heat cramps, heat exhaustion, and heat stroke (also known as sunstroke) are very real concerns for people unaccustomed to training in hot, arid conditions.
I am a snow girl through and through. I’ve experienced cramps before, but I couldn’t see my hot face or detect my slurred speech. I just knew I felt very warm, nauseous, headachey, and HOT. But this could definitely be heat exhaustion. If I wasn’t careful, it could deepen into something much more serious.
Resting and reflecting on my body’s inability to cool itself down. Photo courtesy of Pam Keyes.
When we finally reached shade, Pam suggested I remove my long-sleeved shirt and hat. She offered to take my pack. I hesitated for a split second before accepting her help. The next thing I knew, she was pouring water all over my shirt. “This will help your body cool down.”
Lessons In Humility: Accept Help
Pam asked if it would be okay to include my experience with heat exhaustion in the video. I hesitated again. What does it say about me that I had trouble on the last two miles of an 11-mile hike? Would people think less of me?
But a second later, I agreed. I looked down at my Go for Good wristband and reminded myself of my intentions to see the positives in every negative outcome. How could I turn what I perceived, in the moment, as a failure into a valuable learning experience, for myself, and for my readers? What lessons came from it?
I still maintained my sense of humor and humility and demonstrated the “Thinker’s Pose” during one of my rest breaks. Photo courtesy of Pam Keyes.
No matter how fit or well-prepared you are, something unexpected can still happen.
Do what you can to prevent heat illness and heed warning signs of a potential problem.
Realize that one event does not mean it will happen again, whether you experience heat or cold illness, or altitude sickness. Every trip is unique.
The scouts’ motto, “Be prepared,” applies on every trip. Expect the unexpected and you won’t be surprised.
Always carry MORE than you think you will need, especially if you don’t expect to find a water source.
Realize that when you’re at the summit you’re only halfway done. Most problems occur on the way down.
Accept help readily and graciously when someone offers. I owe Pam my life and I’d do it all again.
Perhaps the most surprising part of the whole trip was the great time we had collaborating on Pam’s wonderful video project. Experience Wrightson for yourself in Pam’s ten-minute video, including the 28 bird species we encountered during our adventure.
I have been a physically active person my entire life. Neighborhood games til dusk in elementary school. Swim team and basketball in high school. Crew (rowing team) in college. Powerlifting in my 30’s. Mountaineering in my 40’s. And hiking with Ajax over the past 8 years. On April 23, 2023, I hiked to the top of Mt. Wrightson with a good friend, Pam, as part of her video series for female hikers over 50. When we started, I never expected we’d hike the entire Old Baldy Trail.
Old Baldy map and elevation profile: traveling to the top of Mt. Wrightson would require 4000′ gain, 11.4 miles round trip, attaining an altitude of 9,456′, the highest point in the Santa Rita Mountains.
A Visit to SE Arizona
A month before my husband and I traveled to SE Arizona for a week of birding, I sent Pam a message letting her know we’d be south of Tucson in a few weeks. The last time we’d seen each other was during the summer in 2021 when she and her kids joined us for dinner in Seattle.
We got to host Pam and her two kids for dinner on July 24, 2021.
“Is there anything you feel is a must-see while we’re there?” I asked.
“Me!” she replied emphatically. We agreed to hike part of the Old Baldy Trail on Mt. Wrightson,
Our goal was to shoot a video combining my birding and physical preparation knowledge, with her expertise in filming and her familiarity with the region. I wanted to start early enough to avoid the worst of the mid-day heat. If you’ve followed my blog over the past two years, you already know I absolutely adore snow. The more, the better.
Starting Up Mt. Wrightson on Old Baldy Trail
At the parking lot on Sunday, April 23, 2023, following our first full day of birding, we hit our first snag. Pam had borrowed a day pack from a friend, but when she tried it on, the lumbar stays poked her awkwardly in the back. Without a thought, I offered to carry two of her liters of water to make it more comfortable.
The Keyes family poses in the parking lot: Walt, Pam, and their son Zach.
I avoid applying sunscreen until it’s absolutely necessary, preferring to absorb as much natural vitamin D as I can. I also try to stay covered with long lightweight pants or tights and breathable long-sleeved shirts. Sunburn on the ears, neck, or stripes behind the knees (where I’ve missed spots) is NOT my idea of a fun way to kick off our birding vacation.
A little before 8 a.m. Walt and Zach headed up the Old Baldy Trail together, leaving the two of us to enjoy girl talk as though the 20 months between visits was more like 20 days.
A glimpse through the forest.
Stops Along the Ascent
As we walked and talked, we took our time, stopping to check out birds and views. I shared my binoculars whenever any birds appeared. We used the Merlin Bird ID app to identify songbirds that got approached the trail. And I tried to provide a few tips for the beginning birder.
One of 27 bird species, the yellow-eyed junco, that we saw or heard on our Mt. Wrightson hike.
Sky Islands
Whenever I explore unfamiliar trails, I lose track of time. Especially if I’m deep in conversation with good company.
I found myself rewriting preconceived notions of SE Arizona (limited to the Grand Canyon and Sonoran Desert Museum) as mainly desert. Pam described the various mountain ranges in the region as “Sky Islands” with unique microhabitats and slight variants of all the flora and fauna.
A little farther along the trail, we found Walt stretched out, snoozing in a patch of sun. His back was still bothering him from their backpacking trip to Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon the week before, so he was taking his time. He graciously agreed to shoot some video of us doing some hamstring stretches for Pam’s project before we continued.
Early Lunch on Mt. Wrightson
Not too much farther along, we chose a shaded spot with a view for lunch. I ate two oranges and some trail mix and soaked in the sights.
We could see a copper mine’s reclamation pond from high up on Mt. Wrightson with Sky Island mountains behind.
I spotted a turquoise body of water that stood out from all the rest. “Copper mining tailings,” Pam explained. A reclamation pond. It may be wastewater, but boy, what an amazing view of it!
Snow at Bellows Spring
Once we resumed hiking, it wasn’t long before we reached what has become one of my favorite spots (why will become more apparent in Part II): Bellows Spring, at 8,153′.
SNOW!! In SE Arizona in April!! Bellows Spring at 8,153′ had running water beneath a snow patch. A hike after my own heart.
Man with a Tourniquet
Once we reached the baking-hot switchbacks leading up to the Old Baldy Saddle, a mile from the summit but the most elevation gain yet to climb, we encountered an elderly man with blood streaks all up and down his arm. Out of respect for his privacy, I did not shoot any photos although the image is burned in my mind.
The five people he was hiking with remained buoyant and positive, trying to keep his spirits up so he wouldn’t go into shock. One woman mentioned the time they’d started the tourniquet. A tourniquet! Holy moly, surely not — anything I’ve read about tourniquets indicates likely loss of limb afterward. Poor guy! We asked if there was anything we could do to help but aside from carrying out his broken, discarded pole we found on the way down, they insisted they would be okay.
Blood spatters on ragged rock where the gentleman fell.
I found a bandana and propped it up on a bush; it was gone by the time we came back. We also found where the gentleman must have slipped on some steeper jagged rock that was the source of his injury.
Successful Summit of Mt. Wrightson
By the time we reached the summit around 1:30, I had a slight headache. “It’s the altitude,” I told myself. I hadn’t been over 9,000 feet elevation since my eighth summit of Rainier in 2017. But headaches at that altitude are pretty common, especially after gaining 4,000 feet.
I’d consumed most of my 3 liters of electrolyte-dowsed water, thanks to the recommendation by my naturopath. Zach had been hanging out at the summit for some time; the breezes at the top and the thermals the ravens were cruising felt wonderful.
I crouch on the summit of Mt. Wrightson in SE AZ, 9500′ high, with stunning views of sky islands in all directions.
But as you may know, whenever you reach the summit, you’re only halfway. “When the student is ready, the teacher appears” is spot on. Don’t miss next week’s blog post on Part II: The Descent.
On a recent week-long trip to Southeast Arizona, my husband and I joined forces with two friends who, several years ago, completed the Master Birder program offered by what was formerly known as Seattle Audubon. I added 46 new life birds to my Ebird.org list and, as a foursome, we encountered 175 unique bird species. If you have ever wanted to learn more about our avian friends but don’t know how to get started, consider this your Birding 101 tutorial.
An Acorn woodpecker has a snack. These birds are common in SE AZ but far less common in Western WA unless there are giant oaks nearby.
Birding 101: Where and When?
The best times to bird are during spring and fall migration, but you can appreciate birds year-round. In spring, not only can you see them, often in beautiful bright plumage (the better to attract mates!), but you will often hear them first, especially birds with melodic songs like thrushes, robins, and song sparrows. Birds are more active near dawn and dusk, building nests, foraging for food, and enjoying spring.
Birds need shelter, food, and water. They also need protection from predation, areas where they can build nests and rear their young. The best place to start studying birds is in your own backyard or local park or green space.
A tiny hummingbird pauses in flight to sip nectar from tubed plants. We saw 7-8 species and I’m still mastering the differences.
If you have any feeders, start by studying the birds that visit. Most people can identify common birds such as the American robin, mallard, and American crow. How many birds do you know already? You might be surprised.
If you prefer larger birds such as house finches, goldfinches, juncos, stellar’s jays, and towhees, try a seed or nut feeder. Just be aware that squirrels also love peanuts and are very crafty.
Do you like hummingbirds? Try putting out sugar water or colorful pink or red plants such as fuchsia. And if you like ducks and other waterfowl, you might want to learn which species winter in your area during the off-season.
A pair of mating bushtits in Ramsey Canyon, SE AZ.
Once you can identify a handful of common birds, it’s time to grow your list. A bird guide such as The Sibley Field Guide to Birds of Western North America is useful for identifying and studying new birds. Participating in neighborhood bird walks at local parks can also be a fun way to learn from more experienced birders. Plan to spend a few hours on a nice weekend morning craning your neck and ears.
A new-to-me life bird, the Arizona woodpecker.
Having a good pair of optics can make seeing hard-to-spot birds easier. While you don’t need super-expensive binoculars to gain an appreciation for the birds you’re watching, the higher the quality binoculars, the more enjoyable your experience. Be sure to get a few tips from the vendor on how best to adjust and care for your optics before you venture into the field.
If you want to travel light, Cornell University has several great resources you can take with you on your phone. Ebird.org allows you to keep track of all the birds you see. We’ve been keeping track since 2010. My life list, or the total tally of bird species I’ve had visual contact with, is now at 657 species.
Birding 101: There are many ways to expand your bird knowledge. Start today! A stunning Scott’s oriole, another life bird.
Another great resource, also through Cornell University, is Merlin Bird ID. This app allows you to visually and audibly identify birds you might not know. Not only can you make a recording of the songs you hear, you can replay them against other apps or have expert birders confirm what you heard, in case Merlin is unable to identify them.
Birding 101: Tips on Spotting Birds
You’ve got a place to watch birds, a pair of binoculars, and an app or guide. Now what? Here are a few final birding tips on how to spot the birds.
Spend time in an area. Birds often will stop singing as soon as an intruder arrives. By standing still and letting them know you are not a threat, they’ll often resume their behavior.
Keep your movements slow and deliberate. Rushing any wildlife will cause them to dart or fly away.
Keep your gaze soft. Rather than hunting for birds with the binoculars, look for movement with your naked eye then bring the binoculars up to get a better look.
Use reference points to get others in your party to see your bird. “That tree, right over there!” is not at all helpful. “The cottonwood, go up to the V, then look twenty feet up the largest trunk, it’s creeping up on the right-hand side below the obvious vegetation clump” is way more useful.
Be patient with yourself. Do not try to master all the birds or you will get overwhelmed. Aim for adding 5-10 birds an outing, and even that is pretty aggressive.
Don’t forget to look for foliage and mammals, too. Above all else, getting outside is all about having fun!
Don’t forget all the other things you can spot outside, from flora and fauna to landscapes and portraits.
Much More to Come!
I have very exciting news. I have partnered with a videographer friend, Pam Campbell Keyes, who is doing a series on hiking in SE Arizona targeting women over 50 on her YouTube channel. We will be bringing you a special film treat about our adventure to Mt. Wrightson in a few weeks. Don’t miss it!
If you follow any sports, you’re probably familiar with the phrase, “Go for the gold.” Aim high, shoot for the stars, and push hard. To remind myself of my goal to cultivate a growth mindset, I modified it to my new mantra, go for good. Simple. Catchy. Easy to remember. Motivating. I even wrote it on an elastic band and placed it on my wrist as a visible reminder of my intention.
A visible reminder of my intention: Go for Good band. Every time it snags on things it reminds me of my commitment. The more I discuss it with people, the more I look for challenges as positive learning opportunities. Gimmick? Perhaps. Effective? Definitely.
To me, go for good means seeking what’s good about any struggle, obstacle, mistake, failure, disappointment, or problem. Finding the silver lining. Turning what I may have previously viewed negatively into a positive. In other words, rewriting my negative stories is becoming a path toward building the mental muscle of optimism.
Flight Delay
Last week’s return flight from Asheville to Seattle is my first example of a negative story. Thunderstorms grounded all planes into and out of Chicago’s O’Hare International for several hours mid-day. Instead of arriving in Seattle at 6:30 p.m. I got home past midnight. With only four hours of sleep before a day of clients. It would take several days to recover from lost sleep and jetlag. But we have no control over Mother Nature.
Ajax poses in front of cherry trees on the UW campus.
Go For Good 1
I rewrote my story to include the following good lessons. I:
am fully capable of solo travel even when things go haywire
have a greater appreciation for our local airport in Seattle, which feels far more manageable than O’Hare
had ample time to fully recharge my phone battery, which had declined to 10% (neither flight had charge capabilities in my row)
remember how important it is to set and stick to personal boundaries (courtesy of my brother)
enjoyed recounting my adventure with my husband who picked me up at the airport (with Ajax). I can use my light rail pass for a future trip
came up with ideas for future unplanned or long layovers: explore the airport
A shot of artwork at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport en route from gate D4 to C31. It’s an intimidating airport but next time I get stuck there I plan to explore it more fully.
In short, if I stop, reflect on the entire experience, and look for the good things, it’s likely that I can find them. I can also learn from previous mistakes and plan how to handle them the next time they happen.
Today, I describe my return trip to Seattle in terms of “an adventure” rather than “a disaster.” As a learning experience rather than an epic failure. What’s more, instead of dreading my next flight, I’m eager to see what challenges come up. Because they will.
Cherry Blossom Ramble
Another example of a story I’ve rewritten happened on a recent ramble with Ajax. The cherry blossoms on the University of Washington campus reached peak bloom on April 5, 2023. On Tuesday, I had a few spare hours, so we drove to the Horticulture Center for our thirtieth unique Active Ajax Adventure.
Cherry blossoms in full bloom on the UW campus in Seattle. Go for good: on a rainy, windy, mid-week day, “the good” included fewer people lingering for photos, pink “snow” to add a playful quality to our ramble, and a moody sky for atmospheric photos.
We headed up the steep hill to the north campus to see the cherry blossoms on the quad before wandering around the Union Bay Natural Area viewing twenty species of birds. We had high winds, high lake levels, chilly temperatures, and overcast skies. What’s more, my plan to connect with my daughter in the morning failed. Without her, who would take my picture? And what about getting a photo of the two of us with the trees?
Go For Good 2
It turns out that she had a science lab at noon. She kept her phone off until later in the afternoon. But if I rewrite the story with a focus on the good, I come up with the following positives:
Rainy conditions mean fewer gawkers in my photographs and fewer distractions for Ajax
Overcast skies create dramatic backdrops for photos
Ajax and I had a lovely 90-minute ramble together, the first since my trip to North Carolina
I reflected on my own time on campus during grad school, as well as last year’s visit to campus for Prospective Students Day with our daughter
We enjoyed pink snow as the wind blew petals from the trees. Where else do you get to see that?
I got to be spontaneous, something I want to do more of
And though I’m not a fan of selfies, it’s always available as a last resort
What’s more, by trying something new, I continue to model for my daughter how to take risks, get outside our comfort zones, and keep trying if we happen to fail the first dozen times.
A beaming pair of friends at “Prospective Students Day” on March 26, 2022, along with thousands of weekend spectators.
Challenging Interactions
My last example of a rewritten story includes interactions with challenging people. That might include folks who have differing opinions from mine, who are in a different stage of life, or who make me feel inadequate. You know the type: anyone you might tend to avoid.
Go For Good 3
Instead of avoiding challenging people, I can remind myself that:
Everyone is doing the best they can with the tools they have available
Each person has a complex backstory that shapes them, a story I can’t imagine; I can only ask about it
My job is to get curious about each person I meet and look for a way to connect or similarities in our stories
If I look at challenging people as mysteries to solve or puzzle pieces to fit together, I can replace fear with curiosity, which unlocks my problem-solving ability and makes the conversation far more enjoyable
I can seek one GOOD thing about each interaction. It’s there!
A selfie with the cherry blossoms.
Go for Good Takeaways
In order to rewrite your stories, here are some takeaway tips. The next time you feel like you have a problem you can’t solve or something has gone wrong, ask yourself three questions:
What would an optimist focus on in this situation? In other words, what GOOD do you see?
What have you LEARNED from this experience that you can apply to future experiences? Everything is a teacher if we are open to learning
How could you turn the current problem into an OPPORTUNITY to explore something you haven’t before?
If technology frustrates you, try thinking of the advantages it might bring once you master it. When you have to wait in a long line, consider striking up a conversation with the person behind you. And the next time something doesn’t go quite as you expect, look for the benefits of the way it did.
Please feel free to share any comments below. I love hearing from readers.
