Mourning Missed Experiences
This is part of a series of posters designed by artist Amber Share that illustrates real people’s one-star reviews of National Parks.
Months ago, Michael and I bought tickets for a flight to Fresno, California. We had both been approved for a two week vacation in June, and we had a perfect plan. We were going to Sequoia National Park, then a 6-7 day backpacking trip across the High Sierra Trail, to the summit of Mount Whitney, then hitchhike to Mammoth Lakes, and spend the remaining days at Yosemite National Park before heading home. Yosemite has been on my bucket list since I was a kid. And this was going to be my first backpacking trip. We were stoked.
I bought a real backpacking pack, a new puffy jacket, rain jacket and rain pants. For my birthday I got a water pump and filter, money for a National Parks Annual Pass, and a bear canister. I did hours of research into the best trekking poles, crampons, and titanium long handle spoons. I read a whole book about ultralight backpacking, and watched dozens of YouTube videos from folks who had hiked the Appalachian Trail, or the Pacific Crest Trail. I had a Google Spreadsheet full of estimated expenses, lists of the shuttle services we would use, the campsites we would stay at, the permits we would need, and the best spots to explore.
It was just weeks after we bought those plane tickets that the pandemic took hold in the states, and suddenly things started shutting down. It’s funny how naïve I was at the beginning. I honestly thought it would all blow over by June. After all, that was months away!
As time wore on, we held out hope. Yeah, the pandemic wouldn’t be over by then, but restrictions were lifting already, so it could still work. We would be in the backcountry nearly the whole time, so our exposure would be pretty limited. We scrapped the hitchhiking plan and instead found another shuttle to get from Mount Whitney to Mammoth Lakes. We would take our masks and hand sanitizer and be extra cautious, but it would work out.
As mid-March somehow melted into late May, I was frantically searching for news about California’s national parks reopening timeline on a daily basis. Mid-June seemed like a real possibility. Surely any day now they would make an announcement? Other parks had already reopened! Come on baby, come on!
On June 2nd, we finally called and cancelled our flight, eleven days before we were supposed to leave. Even if the parks were open by then, we found out the shuttle service we were relying on to get us from the Fresno Airport to Sequoia National Park had cancelled it’s full 2020 season. Uber seemed out of the question for such a long drive, especially during social distancing. We couldn’t rent a car, because the backpacking trip would end on the other side of the Sierra Mountains, and we couldn’t abandon a rented vehicle in a national park we weren’t returning to.
If I had the option, we would have just rescheduled our flight, and rescheduled our vacation days for later this summer. July or August are perfect times to be high up in the mountains. Unfortunately, the way my vacation days work at my place of employment, some expire on June 30th this year, so I have to use ‘em or lose ‘em. I have tried not to be crushed by this. After all, we’re still taking two weeks of vacation this month, and I’m sure whatever plan we throw together in the next week and a half will be totally epic. Plus, we’re getting a full refund on our flight tickets. Silver linings abound.
And yet...I’m still sad. We spent so long planning and prepping for that trip. That’s the trip I wanted to take. Those were the bucket list boxes I wanted to check. And I had already invested so much time and money into the gear and the research. It feels silly to be sad about it. I fully recognize that. I’m lucky to be in good health, I’m lucky to be employed at a place that allows me to take two weeks of vacation at a time, I’m lucky to have the money to invest in gear and trips, and to have a partner who wants to go on adventures with me. But still. sigh
This wasn’t the only thing, of course. There were dozens of other experiences this year that I didn’t get to have. I didn’t spend my birthday romping around St. Louis like I had planned. I didn’t spend Easter with my family. I didn’t spend Memorial Day Weekend on a whitewater trip with dozens of our friends and hanging out long into the night. Tuckfest (one of my favorite weekends of the year) was cancelled. I suspect that the Railbird Music Festival I was planning to go to in August will be cancelled too.
As I contemplate the fact that I may not even get to walk when I graduate from my master’s program in December, I realized that in these times, it’s okay to feel sad about missing out on experiences I should have had. That doesn’t take away from the experiences I’ll have instead, or in spite of. I’m going to have an amazing vacation later this month. It will be full of spontaneity and beautiful places, like a good adventure should be.
Someday, I hope to do the vacation we had originally planned, exactly as we had planned it. I hope that day is sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, Yosemite isn’t going anywhere. Mount Whitney will still be the tallest mountain in the lower 48, even if I’m not standing on top of it as soon as I expected. And even if my graduation ceremony is canceled, I’ll still have a master’s degree at the end of this year.
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” --John Lennon
