Solace in the Southern Alps, New Zealand

Wilderness has long been a source of intrinsic romantic notion with all generations of man, perhaps because the word itself stems from the word “wild.” Uncultivated, uncontrolled, unrestrained wilderness beckons to many of us that seek to peel away the layers of cultivation, punctuality, and boundaries that modern life has imposed. Travelling is similarly intertwined, in this sense, with the idea of wilderness. They go hand in hand in that the traveler is often in search of a new “wild,” and whatever wilderness he or she finds then becomes the impetus for the next journey. The search for wilderness has long left me a starry eyed traveler; I dreamt of what more was in this world since long walks in the New England woods as a child. Places in this world have called to me since I can remember, and it was this search for new wilds that left me to wander, to travel, in order to see all that I could. It was during these wanderings, in the Southern Alps of New Zealand, that I found the greatest product of travel: freedom.

Wilderness and travel have long been catalysts in my life; I chose to move to the mountains after graduating from college, and as soon as I had saved enough money serving coffee and cheap beers, I packed my backpack and bought a one way ticket to Hanoi, Vietnam. After backpacking through Asia for several months, the spark of adventure still burning brightly inside me, I decided to travel to New Zealand, where I lived for a year. I found my home in the heart of the Southern Alps on the South Island of the Land of the Long White Cloud. It was here that I discovered a passion that would become a piece of my everyday routine- trail running. At home in Colorado, there was no sort of expiration to when the trails and mountain passes around me would be closed, but in New Zealand, the fleeting time I would live there left a sense of urgency to explore as much as possible. I began to hike the trails around the area with a feverish intensity, knowing full well that at the end of the year I may never be there again. It was with this pressing sense of exploration that I realized I would cover more ground if I ran. I soon began running almost every day, consumed by an insatiable need to see as much as I could. There was a trail behind my house, in particular, that became a sort of daily pilgrimage for me, the Fernhill Loop. The first time I hiked the beginning of the trail, I toiled on the uphill, panting, wondering if I would ever have the time or energy to hike the whole thing. It wasn’t until I pushed past the mental burden of the physicality of the climb that I realized the only way I would see all I wanted to was if I ran. The first time I ran just below the summit of the trail, not knowing how close I was to the top, before I turned around. I was limited by how hard I perceived it to be, the idea embedded in my head that I couldn’t possibly run that far. After the next few tries, all making it to the same point, I finally realized that it wasn’t my legs, it wasn’t my endurance, it was that I wasn’t truly free. I wondered why I felt so limited; I had moved across the US when I was younger, I had boarded a plane to a country full of unknowns, I had set goals and achieved them. It was in this moment that the gate opened, I realized that the only limitation was myself; all my time spent travelling in search of this new wild had brought me to this pivotal moment I had always been running towards: self realization, actualization, and ultimately freedom.

Standing at the top of the climb for the first time was the moment that I realized I was free, I am free, and I could never be caged. I was looking down on this incredible place, towards the other end of the Earth from where I was born, on a slope to which my legs had carried me. I was flanked by the peak of Ben Lomand, the piercing blue waters of Lake Wakatipu spread before me with the peaks of Walter and Cecil’s erupting from the shoreline, the Remarkable Range to my side. I had pieced together a vital piece of the puzzle to my own life- the strength within myself that had willed me to want to see more, and the mental freedom that was needed to achieve such a goal.

About the Author:
A self proclaimed connoisseur of local beer (particularly IPAs and those of the hoppier variety), locally roasted coffee, and jagged mountain peaks covered in snow, I’m a New Englander by birth who fell in love with the mountains. I enjoy athletic endeavors that get me outside and on an adventure, be it training for an alpine marathon or chasing winter through multiple continents with my snowboard. I am an avid traveler, and when not found at my home in Colorado, I’m typically camping, hiking, snow shoeing, road tripping, or looking for my passport.

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