Are You Too Old for This? Why This is Such a Powerful Question
You're Too Old to Spend the Rest of Your Life on the Couch: Let's Adventure!
When do the wheels fall off? When you say they do
Dear Reader: Sometimes the body and/or the bank account disagrees with your brain. Frankly this is a problem too many of us hand ourselves due to lifestyle choices we don’t choose to change in time so that our last years are our best years. This isn’t that article. This addresses those of us mobile enough to take life on late in life. That said, you and I can still take on the greatest adventure of all, which is changing our minds. This is that article.
Rick stood in the middle the short, steep, rocky climb, balancing carefully as he deftly handled the bags and pads. Tall and lanky, he grasped each colorful bundle and swung them carefully up to me.
I was at the top of the short embankment, grasping the bulky, sometimes heavy gear that made up our camping equipment.
The restless Rogue River, one of America’s greatest treasures, ambled by. The rapids we’d navigate right after tomorrow’s breakfast sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The guides unloaded the gear for us and got ready to set up the tables to make dinner.
Our outfitter, Oregon River Experiences, has years on Pacific Northwest Rivers, and particular experience with older travelers. That’s why I chose to do the Rogue with them.
Half on the sandy shore were our two boats: a paddle boat, which Rick, his family and I had paddled that day with assistant guide Reed directing us, and the equipment boat, managed by the lead guide, Rylin and guide-in-training Elsa.
Rylin’s got 37 years on the river, starting when her father took her on her first trip at two-and-a-half months old. Her shoulders and back show the work of nearly forty years of oar work. Watching her navigate tough rapids is a joy.
The older I get, the more I want guides who have a few grey hairs. A personal preference, surely, but plenty of reasons for it.
Rick and I had formed a “bucket brigade,” a line of people to move items from one place to another. In this case, with the fastest access point both steep and rocky, Rick and I were at the either end of the short embankment.
I was making piles in the campsite, made up of drying grasses flattened by other campers who’d preceded us. Clients don’t have to do such work, but when you do, not only does dinner come faster, but you can take the time to take in the wild sooner.
There was plenty of wild to be had on the “wild and scenic” part of the Rogue River. With no cell signal to drag your eyes away, you can put your full attention on the glory that is one of America’s most beautiful rivers.
It was June, early in the season. The weather was perfection, the water cold. Raptors, songbirds and vultures were everywhere, circling in the thermals above. We’d seen turtles, large fish jumping, deer wandering near the campground. Light winds ruffled our hair and the skies were so blue as to hurt the eyes.
Rick and I are in our seventies. He’s had two knee replacements. I watched as he balanced himself on the side of the steep embankment, aware of his body, testing his knees.
My feet are laced with metal and all kinds of non-organic material which have changed how I stand, move, walk and maneuver over unpredictable surfaces. They wobbled every so often when I took a heavy item from Rick and stepped backwards to stow it.
Sometimes I fell. Didn’t hurt myself. This is how I learn to use new feet, just as Rick is still learning what his knees can and can’t do. It’s just life. Falling on this trip was part of learning where my new baseline lay.
Sometimes I don’t like the feedback. Sometimes the feedback simply tells me what work I need to do to get better.
But we’re here. We’re paddling, we’re hiking, we’re adventuring. Not at home with a remote watching other folks go remote.
Rick’s a lifetime firefighter. You can see that in his careful preparation, his assessment of situations, his respect for the elements. His daughter Abby and young grandson Everett made up the other clients on this trip. He’d carefully chosen this trip for the multigenerational experience for his family.
Are you too old for this?
As with all things, it depends.
For one thing, deciding on an outfitter is a key part of the equation. River “cowboys” are a dime a dozen. Plenty of low-cost outfitters can put you in a boat and ensure you a riotous time. The down side is that they may not- and often don’t- have experience with aging clients, their needs and limitations.
Nor can they often prepare the sometimes complicated menus for people who have unique food needs. Long gone are the days when a steak and a potato on the side of the river would be considered gourmet food.
Guides who understand the limitations of size, age, mobility and disability can still ensure an awesome experience without ever leaving a client feeling inadequate.
The best part of being on the river is that you’re buoyant, you have safety gear, and good guides know how to get you through the rapids and out of the water fast in case a bump sends you overboard, which is rare.
You can be big and still play.
You can be very old and still play.
You can be all kinds of things and still play, as long as you’re willing to allow yourself the joy.
As you and I age, if we have a bucket list that includes experiences like running rapids, the door only closes for two reasons:
Our bodies are beyond repair. This may often be more true in our heads than it is in reality.
Pure fear. In my book, that’s the perfect reason to just go do it.
There, with friends, she took on all manner of gentle adventures in one of the most gorgeous places on earth. Amy’s in her sixties. This is what she writes:
My favorite quote:
If we are to change and grow and evolve, we can’t remain at one fixed point. I don’t want to stay the same. I’m hungry for life, eager for new experiences and adventure. Over the past few years of deep self-inquiry, I’ve been getting to know myself better and I like what I see. I’m in a relationship with this woman first and foremost. She’s got some surprises up her sleeve and I can’t wait to see where life takes us. This is the path of Discovery, one I have been on my whole life, but now, with eyes and arms wide open. (author bolded)
I entered my sixties much the same way. My path has been different, and I am not in any way telling you that you have to do what I do.
I am suggesting that the opportunity to play late in life is wide open.
It’s up to us to walk through the doors which beckon us. We may well find out, like Amy, that we like what we see. Therein lies Destiny.
I took on all manner of extreme adventures because that’s what appeals to my nature. For most people, simply heading out to a new country and learning to snorkel is beyond the beyond…but in doing so, such a gentle exploration of the world is also a gentle exploration of the self.
On our trip, the grandson, Everett, had never been on the rapids. As we took on each challenge, his confidence grew. At one point, we hit a high wave and Everett was thrown into the bottom of the front of the boat, precisely where he needed to be in such a situation.
While that momentarily scared him, as it would anyone, he quickly realized that he’d done exactly what Reed said to do in our pre-trip safety briefing.
We watched his confidence grow as Reed took the family through the rapids, and Rick coached his grandson with his paddling.
You and I embody a child just like Everett inside. Every time we head out to play, every time we try something new, we invite that child in us to see differently, explore and grow.
As someone who has had to eschew much adventure travel because of surgeries these last several years, I had the same opportunity.
The hardest part for me was just walking again.
Just walking. We hiked up uneven rocks to get a bird’s eye view of Blossom Bar rapids before we ran them. Hiked up a cold stream, both hikes in kayaking boots, which forced my stiff feet to work hard.
I did the slog work of finding a camping spot every night, setting up my tent, doing laundry, all those aspects of camping that have to be done and which offer great satisfaction when done well. A while back I couldn’t have done any of this at all.
O.R.E.’s guides would have gladly assisted- even though their days begin at dawn and end well beyond sunset.
Sometimes my feet hurt a great deal at night. The next morning I was ready to go again. That’s feedback.
One thing I valued was that the crew was well aware that I might have some limitations on this trip. For my part, I was willing to do just about anything, if for no other reason than to test my body and get a new baseline.
As we age we are, every single one of us, finding new baselines.
Amy went to Costa Rica and started establishing a new baseline. It doesn’t matter how you do it.
It only matters that you put down the remote and go remote.
Remote is how you define it.
I just got a wonderful comment from fellow Substacker
which I have permission to share here, and which speaks to the beating heart of the bird in our chest:We all suffer injuries, and the joint, cartilage, and other hinges eventually wear out, so you have to be realistic about recovery, training, stretching, and the like. But the notion that adventure is determined by age rather than spirit is ridiculous to me.
I am 64, and just hiked the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim in a day. Over the next few months, I'll be climbing Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower 48 for the third time, and backpacking into the wilds a lot. I don't understand sitting on the couch, actually or metaphorically. (author bolded)
Precisely. But you don’t have to do the Rim to Rim.
You don’t have to be
who hiked the Dolomites with his wife.You don’t have to be Dora the Explorer.
You can choose a gentle on-ramp to adventure by selecting outfitters who specialize in working with older folks. O.R.E. does trips with Road Scholar, for example, using some of the same guides I just spent four days with on the Rogue. I can see why.
You can find a group of like people and learn to play pickleball. It just doesn’t matter.
Look. You do you. However, using the excuse of being “too old,” is, well, too old. We’re living another twenty years these days.
What are you going to do with the time given to you?
Let’s play.
Thank you as always for coming along with me. I hope this article gave you pleasure and inspiration. If you got value from this article please consider
It’s how I pay my bills, and I very much value the support.
If you know someone who could use a loving nudge to get out there and play, please also consider
Either way, let’s please live in the time we have.
I think respecting one’s potentially ever growing twinges and limits is important but I for one will never use them as an excuse to not do all I want/can. I’ve found there’s almost always a way forward. Glad to see you getting back out there more and more
It's such a joy reading your writings! Glad to see you're enjoying yourself in the time you have.