Once Upon Three Times: A Fearless Nomad Shares 3 Thrilling Adventures
Living on the road comes with heavy memories and nonstop adventure.
The question I get most often, aside from, “How in the world do you afford all of this?” is usually, “What’s the CRAZIEST thing that’s ever happened?” or “What was your FAVORITE place that you visited?” But the nomadic existence has nothing to do with where you go or how many times you jump out of an airplane north of Wellington in New Zealand. What’s most important are the feelings that arise and who invokes them. I’ll tell you about three times that I still think of today.
Quick Sand In Argentina
One day I got to my hostel in Mendoza, Argentina but my bed wasn’t ready yet. I had met a girl from Vancouver Island in Buenos Aires a month prior and we kept in touch. By coincidence, she was also in Mendoza at the same time. She asked if I wanted to hike around a lake with her while they prepped my room. So, she, myself and a girl from Belgium all hopped in a local bus and an hour later, got off beside some lake. It looked wonderful. It was tucked back in the distance and would take some hiking to get there. But the clear blue water surrounded by towering desert cliffs was worth the trek. We hopped over the highway and began our walk through the mountains when all of a sudden:
WHOOSH!
We plummeted into quicksand. I sank up to my knees and fell to the ground. I couldn’t move. I tried to get up, but my legs were sinking too fast. I was on all fours trying to break free as the Earth was swallowing my hands and feet more and more. I was nearly paralyzed. I tried to pull my body out with all my strength, but I just kept digging myself further in a hole. My sandal ripped off my foot as I flailed my feet and I gripped the ground with my fingers, desperate for escape, but fell deeper into the camouflaged swamp. I was nearly up to my waist in black mud. I thought I might die. The girls were screaming. WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?! But then my foot slipped free. My heart thudded inside my chest as I took a light step to more solid land, then another, and after an hour, I escaped my Argentinian death. We went skinny-dipping and jumped off a cliff to celebrate our close call.
Surfing In Peru
Later that week in some far-flung beach town called Mancora, Peru, known for big waves and a threatening ocean, I took a surf lesson. I grabbed the board that my instructor brought to me as he said without warning, “Okay. We go!” He spoke poor English. My board nearly fell as I rushed after him to the ocean. “Listo? (ready?)”. He asked me. “After wave thees you jumping quick!”
What the fuck did he say?
“Okay! JUMP!”
So I jumped in and started paddling after him, but the dude was fast.
“Rápido!”
I tried to move faster.
“RÁPIDO RÁPIDO!!!” He screamed nervously.
Why was he nervous? Oh no. FUCK! I looked up to see a seven-foot wave about to crash on my face.
“RÁPIDO HERMANO!!!”
And BOOM! I went flying off my surfboard and was dragged twenty feet. I couldn’t breathe. I swallowed a bucket-load of ocean as I tried to get my head above water.
BOOM! Another wave knocked me down. I was completely outa breath trying to get to air. I thought I was drowning.
Then BOOM! Another fuckin wave blew me straight into the sand. I couldn’t see. The world was spinning.
“Guud yob!!” I heard from somewhere ten minutes later. It sounded like my instructor, but I couldn’t see. I felt my face. There was a ball-shaped welt on my chin and I had no idea where I was. Locals were staring at me as my sight came back. It took me two hours to stand up without falling. I’ll never surf again.
A New Friend in Alaska
Another time I got to some hostel in Fairbanks, Alaska and in the bed next to me was an old dude in his seventies. He told me that he had been diagnosed with cancer and decided to go through treatment at the hospital that he had been born at, which happened to be down the street. He had been there since November. It was then June. We went on these long walks every day and stayed in touch for six months after I left. He wrote me an email one day that said:
I did not beat the cancer, so I will not be around long. I am not afraid, just disappointed that I cannot spend more time with my wife and family or even keep track of your success. So this is probably one of my last messages – I wish you well.
And I never spoke to him again.
It’s times like these that imprint memories that’ll never leave my brain. I recall nearly everything he said to me and although nothing “exciting” happened, it was a rare occurrence that only a traveler would stumble upon. Those are the experiences that keep me on the road. I hitchhiked my first ride when I was fourteen and my last ride a few weeks ago. I’m thirty-three and have never stopped learning. I now hold the Guinness World Record for longest journey by car in a single country, and on May 20th, I will attempt record number two. If not now, then when? Right? Safe travels.
All words and images by Greg Cayea
Follow him on IG here.
If you liked this story, check out more in our Urban Transplants issue.
