A Walk on the Wild Side

By Sally Franz

I love to travel. And while getting there is half the fun, being there is ecstasy. The sounds, sights, smells, and flavors of a new city are like a whole new uncharted universe. I am Captain Kirk on a mission. Not so for homebodies. They loathe the-getting-there and the-being-there bits equally. But for those of us who love adventure the world is a playground: thrills, spills and all. Albeit, research would indicate that adventure seekers apparently have a stymied frontal brain lobe. We are wanting in the section of gray matter that helps a normal person by offering a loud litany of warnings when asked the question, “What could possibly go wrong?’ Those of us with passports are either propelled into danger by an overzealous curiosity or we really don’t care what happens at our age, as long as something happens.

And while I am not about to test how strong my fillings are by bungie jumping off the bridge over the canal of Corinth, I did take a boat ride beneath the jumpers. I just love to venture off the beaten path. I specialize in once–in-a-lifetime thrills. I try to do something weird every year. This year I went snorkeling in the Dungeness River with a huge school of migrating salmon. Last year I went snowshoeing on the edge of Hurricane Ridge in the Olympic National Park.

I’ve hopped aboard the precarious Yukon Railroad along the steep gold rush trail in Alaska. I’ve raced the rails from Glasgow through the Chunnel toward Paris, I’ve traveled from San Diego to New York on Amtrak, and I’ve chugged along the rails from Oslo to Bergen. I’ve soared in a hot balloon over the Serengeti. I’ve helicoptered into the Grand Canyon and over waterfalls in Maui. I once dared a below freezing midnight sleigh ride through the Russian forest near the Winter Palace, outside St. Petersburg. And all I can say for a reason is, “Why not?”

I tried windsurfing in Mombasa and cruised down the Nile. I swam with hammerhead sharks, sea turtles and in the Galapagos I snorkeled with Manta Rays. I have floated down underground rivers in the Yucatan. I’ve hiked around Machu Picchu, Stone Henge and wandered amongst the Moi in Easter Island. I’ve scaled the walks that hang over the falls at Iguazu, zipped on lines above rain forests in Costa Rico and canoed in Canada. I’ve seen the divers at Acapulco, braved crowds for Bastille Day under the Eiffel Tower and merged with the swarms of people at a bazar in Turkey. I’ve journeyed on camel back at the great pyramids and through Petra. I’ve Jeeped to meet Maasi warriors and taken a Jeepny to the Hobbit Bar in Manilla.

I’ve boarded small prop planes to the Nazca Lines in Peru, Abu Simbel in Egypt, and a float plane to Friday Harbor. I’ve watched glaciers calve in Glacier Bay, Alaska. (Calving is what glaciers do when they break off into the ocean. Big, loud thunder sounds. Really awe inspiring.)

I’ve skied Innsbruck, Tuckerman’s Ravine, and Durango. I’ve bobbed up and down in the Dead Sea in Jordan, scoured the edges of Lake Michigan for Petoskey stones and discovered a moray eel’s cave in Bora Bora. I’ve sailed solo at sunset in Corfu, crewed J-24s in Santa Barbara and tacked across Lake Winnipesaukee. I guess I am an adrenalin junkie, pure and simple. The only problem is there are no self-help groups because when we get together we egg each other on to more insane thrills.

I also have this quirky need to try something on a dare. Which explains why I have willingly ingested seal meat in Copenhagen, avocado ice cream in Ventura, octopus in Quepos, matte in Buenos Aires, eel in Xian and drank way too much ouzo in Athens (Hint: NEVER go jewelry shopping while intoxicated). And what made me drink fermented camel’s milk in Uzbekistan I will never know. (It has a co-mingled flavor somewhere between skunk and a boy’s gym locker). If you are not a traveler, I apologize. Likely this has been a long litany of boring names and places you could care less about. But if you are a traveler, I hope this has been a walk down Memory Lane reminding you of how alive you feel when you take a walk on the wild side.