If you are only going somewhere once, make sure you do it right.
That’s our philosophy when it comes to planning bucket-list adventures, and that’s the philosophy we implemented for our recent trip to Antarctica.
We had written off Antarctica as a “maybe-someday-when-we’re-retired” destination, recognizing that our desire to do it right would mean a substantial financial and time commitment that was just easier to put off. There were other excuses not to do it, like worry about potential seasickness and hesitation at the thought of being on a ship for so long.
Antarctica remained on the “someday” list until a near-fatal brain bleed changed everything.
My unexpected brush with death at age 41 forced me to reflect on what truly mattered. I realized that if my time had come, one of my only regrets would have been never making it to Antarctica, a magical land at the end of the Earth that had captivated my imagination since I was five. Antarctica’s towering icebergs and desolate mountain landscapes called to me, a place that so few people get the privilege of visiting, populated by charismatic penguins, ominous leopard seals, and graceful humpback whales.
