Guest Article: “Mom and Dad, We are Going to Take a Gap Year”

This article was written by Bill Buchanan–our dad.

“Mom and Dad…..We are going to take a gap year”

No longer a dream discussion, the statement was a bold commitment and it jolted me.  I was relaxing with the boys in the jacuzzi one winter day and paying nominal attention to the conversation. “Would you be ok with that? We are paying for it ” was the follow up.  It was well played and a cornering move as the normal tool kit parents use in such situations had just been disarmed.

The boys had worked and earned their money. They had done well in school and were motivated. Futures were promising and this was not an attempt to escape these things.

“Ye…es” I answered sincerely. There was a palpable uneasiness and they knew it. It wasn’t taking a gap year that concerned me. Rather it was their wanderlust for the extreme and remote world; a zeal for the jaw-dropping and unexplored adventure.  Scary and unpredictable stuff. In a flash I saw the stress this would put on us as parents. I knew we couldn’t share these fears with others. With the plans they had floated, there would already be more than enough material to fuel pushback by a more general audience.

“What do you think Mom will say?” 

“She will probably be very worried. You will have to ask her.”

Fast forward. It is 18 months later. I am now sitting in an Air BnB in the town of Almaty, Kazakstan. I am enjoying a closing moment in this saga. Someone above had acted on our prayers. The wild adventures did happen as I foresaw that day. Miraculously, all went well. I am peaceful and reflective now. To provide the reader context I will tell about our last adventure.

As a finale to their year, I was invited to join them for a 50 mile backpacking trip through the most remote corner of Kyrgyzstan near China; a place that abuts against a contested border zone. As such, it requires very special permits. Our trek would start  12 miles beyond an abandoned ex-Soviet mining town. We would spend the week in a place that doesn’t see tourists and hadn’t had visitors this season. Five hours of mud, snow, and ice in a rebuilt Russian paratrooper 4-wheel drive vehicle and 2 military checkpoints later, we were dropped somewhere in nowhere with a promise –  despite a language barrier – that the Russian speaking driver would return to pick us up. “Here.” “RIGHT HERE,” I remember stating emphatically as he nodded with apparent understanding. Yes, he would return. And he did. But his return was a harrowing story – all told with gestures – of a snowstorm in the mountain pass and news that he almost didn’t make it home the first trip.

I’ve told this story so that you understand what kept us up at night this last year. Real fears. Not just the terrorist and kidnapping risks that most Americans incorrectly associate with this area. Those alone were already becoming a popular concern expressed by those feeling a need to influence our decision-making.

A reprieve came when the Morehead-Cain Scholarship group unknowingly intervened.  “We would like to contribute toward Andrew’s gap year,” they wrote. With the caveat that “it meets certain safety requirements.” A Security Team would be reviewing and closely overseeing the plans and travel abroad. Kudos to them; a reassuring calm ensued. Andrew was “now safe” – we explained to our friends. “And Chris?” they asked. Frances, his girlfriend, was going to be with him; he is a college graduate, and other than intersecting with Andrew occasionally, he would be primarily in English- speaking countries, I explained. “Sounds a lot safer,” was the typical response. For them, but not for me. I know he lives to surf the world’s biggest waves. As his dad, I worry about what others don’t; that these “safe plans” morph with the cyclonic storm patterns of the South Pacific. NOAA doesn’t provide a “Safety Team” for people like him. I could only hope that airline fairs and his girlfriend Frances might discourage him from chasing the color purple that Surfline shows when ocean swells are expected to exceed 40 feet.

The decisions good parents make are not easy ones, and the discussions my wife and I had were not superficial. We weren’t on the same page with everything. “Reasonable” and “Safe” are highly subjective concepts. My worries weren’t necessarily hers, nor hers mine. For 18 months we shared our boys lives vicariously through FaceTime, their stories, and photos. We worried. And when things went well we we laughed at ourselves. The cycle repeated itself a lot. Denial is a poor defense mechanism in the world of technology.

So as I prepare my return home I will make a confession. We dodged a bullet. What if something had happened? As parents were we really accepting of the risks they chose to take? They are our self-funded adult children; arguably completely independent.   But sometimes a parent’s supporting opinion is more influential than a parent who is dissenting, exposing parents to an unnecessary confrontation if the risk materializes into reality. Maybe that’s why good parents just say “no.” It’s just easier. While we were mostly on the same page we did not clarify what we would accept and what we wouldn’t. The process moved along with plenty of distractions to keep us from these deeper conversations. As we motored over the last icy pass and looked over the cliff below before settling into the AirBnB in Kazakstan I promised myself: I will advocate to anyone else in this situation to have those conversations. 

With that disclaimer in the open, I will say it was fortuitous that Rena asked me to join them on two separate trips: driving Baja, and border crossings in Central Asia. Originally this was planned to fill some of my travel cravings while at the same time mitigate specific fears we had. By luck it was also their first and their last trips. “Bookend trips,” Rena says. But by the time these trips happened, I had decided this for me would be about two things:

First, I have publicly advocated there is an explicit value to taking a gap year. Now it was time to find I was right or wrong and in what ways. I could compare the bookends. How would my boys change ?

Second, I had decided to comply with their plans for minimalism and poverty on the last trip. Could I do it at this stage in life? and what could I learn by doing it….?

It’s More Than Growing Up….

Someone told me children “grow up” during experiences like these. I wondered how that might be different than just going to college. Children go to college, they “grow up” and then get jobs. College seems to be a perfect transition. Structured learning in a social playground protected with the safety nets young adults might need. Students can always find food, housing, entertainment, companionship, physical and mental health solutions when they need such help. All of this would be starkly absent I noted, as the boys embarked on their respective adventures in February carrying nothing more than 40 lbs of life’s needs strapped to their backs. 

February was different than the bookend trip I took with them November. In November, Brad’s truck and our suburban were fully packed with food, toys, money, music, and for good measure— two doctors. A large catamaran awaited us at the tip of the peninsula. A great trip punctuated by some adventure. But nothing like the scene in March, when Andrew, dressed in his now duct-tape-patched jacket, living frugally and meeting a personal challenge, had decided to sleep at a bus station in China. And recounts the story as meaningful because he had the chance to share a meal with a homeless man. That was the adventure he wanted to have. Chris, arguably enjoying a more tropical life, was frugally trying to make ends meet. Instead of going to the store or a cafeteria, he described in a text with accompanying pictures of his forages in the woods and the star fruit he’d found for dinner. Both boys were quite proud of these moments. When I met them in Kyrgyzstan I cringed, laughed and almost cried before I realized I was achieving the second of my goals on the back end trip. Six days into our seven day camping trip, I found myself complying. We had ample food for extra days but I too was  packing morsels of pasta, raisins and small quantities of grains into bags. “This is what we do dad. It’s kind of hard to change, even when you tell us we’re going to a restaurant tomorrow. It feels good to know we don’t need that much to be happy.”

When Chris was younger, he said he wanted “one of the biggest houses in Palos Verdes,” and Andrew within the last two years did say, “I want to make a fortune as a business man; then I will probably give it away when I’m old.” Children change their views with age. They “grow up” after high school in our systems of advanced education and with the responsibilities of adulthood. But I think something else happens during a gap year like this, where personal challenges become formative to one’s personality.

Getting the Most from Minimalism…

I wondered if I could still be like a young adult and be happy spending 4 weeks with just two shirts, pants, underwear, and socks. I doubted myself and took three. I was wrong; two was enough. Would I miss the comforts of home? This would be a true test, I thought. Simplicity and nature bring out the best if you accept the challenges of minimalism in this environment. As time passes on these kinds of trips, there’s great joy in mastering the challenges of little things. Packing differently so that you can now quickly reach your rain gear. Cooking a quick meal that tastes better than the last. Working more efficiently as a team to set up or break camp when challenged by the weather. Each day brings happiness by discovering the smallest achievements. I salvaged a broken backpack strap with some creative lashing. It was a great day. Chris and Andrew each talk of separate successes building fires in inclement weather.    Memorable stuff for them; I know as I’ve heard the stories a few times. Andrew described backcountry hygiene strategies that he learned in his NOLS course. Chris and I tried them—with success— and now I have changed. Sitting here writing I think these seem to be little challenges now, but I still see them as big successes. Getting a lot from something small. Feeling rich without money. At age 61 I didn’t think “essential oils” would become a notable addition to my packing list. But at the end of a hard day of hiking, a drop of lavender oil did exactly what the boys claimed; a new attitude, new smells and a great night sleep. I’m grateful to them for giving me this trick (and for very different reasons grateful essential oils weren’t part of my Boy Scout upbringing).

You don’t need much to live on trips like these. I suggest the actual challenge of using even less makes it more rewarding. Marie Kondo trekking I think. For better or worse, as a post script note I will tell you that upon returning home Andrew promptly removed and gave away half the clothing in his closet. He has a very small closet. “I just don’t need this much.” When Chris was much younger he gave me a gift. He painted inside our closet, “The best things in life aren’t things.” I thought so much about that during our trip.

Much more than fiscal responsibility….

What happens to young travelers on budgets? Having met a few of their hostel “colleagues,” I have an observation. Unlike their college counterparts (“the only time they call is when they need money”), the backpacker tries to extend the trip as far as possible on the budget they have. These guys keep talking about trying to go farther and stay longer limited only by money or time. They say things like, “I wish I could have gone there; I ran out of money.” It’s subtle but they don’t say, “I need more money.” Think about it. It’s about the experience, not the money and not the things. And that may be why hostels are safe environments. Theft is reportedly low, your backpack is safe, and people help each other.

But just outside of the hostel, the world may be hostile. And since “street smarts” aren’t learned in the classroom, Rena and I tried to educate our sons with our losses as young travelers. Despite their objection, and to their amusement, we packed a wad of emergency cash amongst their toiletries. It made us feel better. We didn’t know how things might go for them. We hoped for nothing bad but wondered if there might be stories.

On the second bookend trip, the three of us decided to share a taxi with a fourth backpacker, an architect from NZ taking a year off. The trip cost was 1500 som for a 2-hour journey. Cab drivers frequently try to exploit the language barrier and it’s a vulnerability the boys explained. “This guy only speaks Russian. So I entered the exact amount on his calculator screen in advance to confirm it,” Andrew said. They’d been victims before in the Caribbean, Chris said. So we were now five miles down a lonely road in Kyrgyzstan and the cab driver tells us the cost was really 2000 som because no one told him about the “extra person.” Andrew instantly disagrees. The new number is clear on the calculator; the reasoning is muddy. “Niet Niet Neit” say the boys. “1500.”  Then the process gets a bit ugly. The man from NZ says he’s easy; he’ll pay whatever. I’m now quiet and fascinated. My chance to see how my boys are changing in their gap years. This is going down in a foreign country in a foreign language and my boys aren’t giving an inch on what’s now being framed as a compromise for their misunderstanding. “Stop the car. We’re getting out. It’s all about principle.” Guess what? The cab driver laughed, the boys laughed, and the architect and I shared looks; we’d probably read too many Gulag stories. We finished the 2-hour ride for the original 1500. That’s not something you learn in college.

Type 1 and Type 2 Fun……

Type 1 Fun…what most people call fun; enjoying the exact moment in which it occurs because it’s fun; instant pleasure. Type 2 Fun … enjoyment or an appreciation after a challenge or adversity. Okay; those are my definitions after listening to my offspring describe things. A bit like “good” and “bad” cholesterol when it comes to things affecting your overall health. Surfing, Kiteboarding, riding on Brad’s catamaran in November – a lot of Type 1 fun. Sandblasting and vortex winds camping in Baja at San Carlos; Type 2 fun they figured a few days later. But a lot of Type 1 fun in November on the first bookend trip.

And the culmination trip in Central Asia? Especially in landlocked countries for Chris? Almost all Type 2 fun. The boys think you need both. But as you “get older” (grow up) it appears they are liking more Type 2 fun. As a dad, I think its more like the cholesterol model; less of one and more of the other is healthy but yes, you do need both.

Challenges and more challenges….Isn’t that just more Type 2 Fun?

By the time I had joined the closing trip, everything had become a challenge. Better cooking, lower costs, the most remote and more challenging hikes. Surviving rain. Going to the bathroom in the rain. No toilet paper. “Part of the adventure,” I said. “Type 2 fun,” they responded. No longer children, they weren’t complaining. They were interpreting these difficulties as delayed gratification by virtue of accomplishment.  Chris, who hated sleeping outside, hates being cold and can’t live away from the ocean, wants to go back. He’s officially a backpacker now. And Andrew, now at home, isn’t wasting much of the day. It starts before sunrise; he’s training for a triathlon again but realizes the early hours of the morning are much better for cycling, and he prefers this to staying out late at night even though it’s summer vacation. That I think must be more Type 2 fun. 

Finding Better Ways to Find My Way….

By October I had researched navigation in Baja. maps.me provides country downloads that leverage your GPS tracker even if you don’t have a local SIM card. As a backup I ordered two detailed paper maps. Brad and I used these paper maps; there were so many routes I just didn’t see on the digital formatting. But we still couldn’t find Shipwreck’s until we had made a call back stateside. Even though Baja wasn’t a real problem, I now think there are better ways to navigate. What I do know now is that there are many other ways to get really good information. I now know that Google Maps downloads work very well with GPS navigation and that things travelers need are readily available in that format provided you plan accordingly. Except in China where it doesn’t work. Alibaba maps is the answer if you need to know.

“How did you know THAT ?” I asked someone. “You have to talk to the local Hostel travelers. They know all about the other (local) Apps, the ones that work, the free ones, the ones that show you the non-tourist prices. Sometimes you have to buy a local SIM card but it’s usually worth it.” Sometimes you find this stuff on Lonely Planet or search platforms but sometimes you don’t find out unless you ask the right traveler. “Yandex” will get you a guaranteed-price taxi in Russian-speaking countries; pick up and drop off language translations. Other related apps will show you all the local bus routes and map your buses with realtime GPS progress mapping without a local SIM card. Saves a lot of money when you are poor, but more importantly, embeds you in the community. My take-home learning: connect with the backpacking hostel crowd or the couch surfing crowd on their digital platforms. These folks are better than travel agents, they willingly share, and they are experts in prices, good finds, and current local information.   Even if you don’t plan to travel or live in the same style.

“Get out of your routine”   

That’s my personal take-away as a guest on their gap year adventures. And that’s my resolution going forward now. Stripped of all but the essentials, I noted while wandering on our journeys, left me vulnerable to the influence of my boys’ ideas.  Instead of “no I have work to do” excuses I found myself compliantly “going along.”  Much like we all do on any vacation with others. But in this environment the impact was more significant. I relinquished and adopted their line, “Ok, let’s try it.” And that’s how I rationalized things one evening as the sun was getting low and the air cold. No longer backpacking, we were day-hiking on a whim. We had limited water, limited food and limited money in the daypack. We had left a warm town in Kazakstan and our warm clothes behind and decided to try and ascend a mountain to a popular lake. We could have hired a guide to drive us…..or we could just set out on foot …. and bus…and see what happens. That’s the stuff I really worry about. We didn’t appreciate that the bus line terminated early and that the ascent to the lake was significantly more miles and vertical feet than depicted in our information. And we had already hiked 6 miles to the beginning of our short bus route. And now we were another 6 miles up the mountain road. “We could hitch-hike Andrew suggested.”

“Okay, lets try hitch hiking,” I said.

Now extract yourself from this story. You’re presumably in the US. This is Kazakstan, the country is Russian-speaking and it’s a short travel to some really dangerous tribal places. I’m nearing retirement age and not poor. Yet I’m agreeing to hitch-hiking. Ask yourself -would you do this? Have I lost my mind? Is this craziness because of my new commitment to try new things? Or is it out of desperation? The answer is really important. If in November you told me I would be hitch-hiking in a remote are of Kazakstan I would have not gone on the trip. I would have guessed it to be a  desperate situation or some form of really bad judgement. It was not bad judgement and we were only minimally desperate. But by getting out of my routine I went to Kazakstan. l then learned about the people and the culture. Riding with others is safe; it’s encouraged and most all of the locals do it. You give them a little money; it’s a win-win. We had watched it happen a lot. So, a van that had picked up two Russians we had met previously while hiking stopped to give us a lift. We saw the lake, enjoyed their company. We told stories and took pictures with them. And got a ride back with them back to the bus line. Warm and dry. That night we were tired. Instead of going back to the hotel after dinner I reminded Andrew about my new found philosophy; getting out of my routine and suggested we walk down another street. We found and then were entertained by an older Kazakstan man playing the accordion. He had something he wanted to communicate to us. Several people stopped by to help. I think the group tried 5 languages before we met a Russian who spoke Spanish. That worked for me.  Turns out he had spent 3 years riding a motorcycle around South and Central America.  The organist- he just wanted to sing and play us a song in Italian. So we all had a wonderful evening together. Getting out of my routine. That’s what I learned on this trip.