I’ve always loved the well-worn phrase, “All who wander are not lost.” I know I’m neither the first, nor the last, of millions of individuals who identify with this sentiment. It made the younger version of myself – the one who had just gotten her first taste of traveling overseas and was flush with the travelbug fever – feel seen and understood.
It’s weird, in these recent times, how sharply the loss of travel can feel. In fact, myself and many others who feel most grounded when attempting to get lost in a foreign city, feel more lost than ever amidst the heavy blanket of COVID travel restrictions.
As with many other complex psychological impacts we’ve all felt during the global pandemic, the ensuing stress is immediately guilted by the knowledge of how lucky and privileged we are. Yes, we had COVID early on, but we were asymptomatic and stayed healthy. Yes, we know many people who have – and still are – suffering COVID symptoms, but I have not personally lost anyone from this horrible virus. The brain is constantly surveying this landscape of ubiquitous stress, comparing and contrasting our own feelings with seemingly appropriate justifications. It’s easy then, for us to feel pressured to squelch our sadness about canceled plans, missed celebrations, and a general itchiness to travel again.
I think you need to hear this.
It’s OKAY to feel saddened by the loss of travel. It doesn’t make you unempathetic to other people’s trauma. It makes you human.
I want to share a bit of advice that I got over a decade ago, when I was preparing to go through a divorce. It was an amicable breakup, and we both still love each other very much. There were no lawyers involved. No arguing over stuff. No name-calling or even fighting. It was simply time to part ways, as we needed different things that we could not give each other any more. It was truly for the best.
So why did it hurt SO MUCH? Why did my heart ache so horribly, even though it had ultimately been my decision? It’s not what you have– what you are giving up- that you are sad about. It’s the vision of a future you thought was yours.
So, as my wise friend, Jessie, told me, “Allow yourself time to grieve that future that is no longer.” It’s okay to be sad that it’s no longer possible. It’s okay to be scared by not knowing what (or when) that will be replaced with.
I thought that I knew this lesson inside and out. I’ve applied this grieving process to many of life’s disappointments that followed that big change. I was a champion at processing losses and moving on in a healthy manner. Until a few weeks ago.
In the past year, I’ve had plenty of exciting travel plans. We had been organizing a big trip for April 2020 to celebrate the year that I was to turn 40, and my mom, 70. So, my wife and I were to set out in advance for 2 weeks, just the two of us, exploring Peru, hiking Machu Piccu, then meeting back up in Ecuador with my mom for a memorable week in Galapagos Islands! Of course, our ill-fated departure date was just one month after coronavirus wiped out normal life as we knew it, forcing most of us to suddenly either get laid off or switch to working from home. Our trip was understandably postponed until April 2021.
Optimistic, (back when most people didn’t think it would take more than a couple weeks or – at most – a couple months to get rid of this pesky virus), we planned a new trip. We would go back to Thailand, to finally reunite with ‘our Thai son,’ Veeraphat. He had lived with us in Ypsilanti, Michigan, back in 2012-2013. Now that he is a grown man, finished with university, his family opened a small resort with some guest houses we could stay in. We were so excited! I jumped on the drastically reduced airfares in April, and scheduled our trip for December 2020.
The summer was quiet, with just a few cautious camping trips close to home. We grew accustomed to hiking with masks on, and finding wider spots on trails to step aside as oncoming hikers approached. During one visit with a dear friend, who also loves to travel, we learned that she, too, would be celebrating a landmark birthday, and she planned to go to her 50th state in February to ring in her 50th year. As we learned of her plan to head to Hawaii solo, we eagerly volunteered to join her! With all of our recent cancellations (business trips too), I had plenty of travel points waiting to be used.
As November holidays came and went, and predictable surges in cases came, we had already made the decision to continue avoiding all family holidays, for fear of spreading COVID. We were worried about the upcoming trip to Thailand, whose government still had not lifted the ban on ALL commercial flights entering the country. We literally could not even get there if we wanted to.
Sadly, the trip to Thailand got cancelled too. We hope to reschedule to December 2021. But at least we have Hawaii!
As a backup plan to Thailand, we decided to take our road trip to Big Bend N.P. It was such a relief to FINALLY, safely be able to get out on an adventure. I can count on one hand how many people passed within 6 feet of my during those 3 weeks, always masked. We missed spending Christmas with our families, but we knew this was a much safer plan. I’m so grateful we managed to get away, even just a few states from home.
As Hawaii approached, the COVID restrictions clamped down. Because we were planning to go to Kauai to hike the Kalalau Trail, it required a number of new requirements:
- Get a negative PCR test no more than 72 hours before departure
- Arrive in Kauai, without stopping and leaving any other airport along the way
- Do NOT rent a car. Go directly to an approved ‘Resort Bubble’ to quarantine for 3 days
- Pay $80 for a tracking bracelet
- Figure out how to get food without leaving the resort, even though all hotel restaurants are closed, and there is no room service
- After 3 days, pay another $200 for a rapid COVID test. If negative, feel free to proceed about the island
We understood and accepted all these parameters. We knew it wouldn’t be the relaxing, luxurious version of Hawaii that most people seek out, but we were truly there for the hiking. Kalalau trail is very sought after, which required booking an overnight camping permit in advance. We managed to secure our spots for 4 days, just to be safe. We expected to hike in and out in 3 days, with a buffer day planned, in case of bad weather.
The seasonal timing was risky, since February falls squarely in the rainy season. As I researched the trail further, I learned that, as one of the top 20 most dangerous trails in the world, the biggest risk comes not from tumbling off the cliff at Crawler’s Ledge, but rather attempting to cross one of 4 river crossings during flood conditions. Many a traveler has refused to wait out the weather, and instead insisted on forging through raging, waist deep rivers gushing with epic force from the mountains above. They either get washed out to sea and sucked into the strong rip tide, or banged against large boulders by the strong currents. We discussed these risks as a group, and agreed to turn back if anyone felt unsafe. Nobody would be dying our our trip.
The week before our flight, we were eagerly giddy, as it finally seemed that our travel plans would go through! We packed and repacked our bags, prepared with extensive gear for the 22 mile, treacherous backcountry hiking and camping. Then, as if in a dream, we starting hearing the reports.
“Winter storm Uri preparing to hit U.S. hard with record ice storms, extreme winter weather, and artic cold air.” NOOOOOO!
We hoped for the best, despite our flight laying over in Houston. We always try to route our winter flights through Texas or Atlanta, because Chicago ORD is so prone to cancelled flights. Never would I have thought that the entire Houston International Airport would be shutdown due to a winter storm. We were glued to the forecast, watching each day as Uri crept across our nation, stretching from our southern border with Mexico clear up to Canada. The forecasters predicted devastation, and once it became clear that they might be right, we began calling our airline to see if there was anyway to be rerouted. So did everybody else. Then they started talking about Winter Storm Viola, the one-two punch just nipping at the heels of Uri.
We were basically told there was nothing we could do but wait. Sure enough, two days before our flight, as the snow was just starting to fly here in Indy, we starting seeing reports of massive ice storms, rolling blackouts, and impassable conditions across Texas. We checked in on friends and family from Houston to Austin to Dallas. No one was spared from the impacts. We shared any cold weather tips we could to help minimize the damage, but sadly watched the updates on social media as families huddled around gas fireplaces, candles were lit, water in toilet bowls froze over with ice, and, eventually pipes began to burst.
When our flight was officially canceled, we were not surprised. We called again, hoping that maybe we could at least get rescheduled the next day, or the day after that, but the massive round of cancellations across the country had left thousands of passengers stranded, and we were a much lower priority, safely stuck inside our home, by then with our own foot of snow and impassable roads. Even if our flight hadn’t been canceled, we could not have made it safely to the our local airport by 5am the morning of our departure.
The earliest we could get rerouted from our airline would have been 3 days later. By then, with the mandatory 3-day quarantine still in place, we would have completely missed our window to hike the Kalalau Trail. Our reservation could not be altered or canceled. It was the only part of our trip that couldn’t be refunded. So, with heavy hearts, we accepted the reality that our trip was now completely canceled.
At first, I was okay with this. I’m not one for fighting the Universe tooth and nail, when something is so clearly not meant to be. I mostly felt heartbroken for our dear friend, C.C., whose own recent struggles had left her desperately needing this trip to happen. Complications with her family had already altered her plans significantly, and made the whole thing even more of a disaster. She was, understandably, extremely upset, and we scrambled to figure out some other way to be able to celebrate her 50th with her. But, with flights completely jumbled with rebooked stranded travelers, and our roads being too dangerous to make the 4-5 hour drive up to Michigan to see her, we were left feeling helplessly inept.
I thought my heart ached for our friend. We can always reschedule, I thought. In fact, it seemed kismet, because my own 2020 trip to Galapagos, which had been rescheduled for April 2021, just got postponed once again to 2022. Suddenly, time I had blocked off for that trip was available, and the weather in Hawaii would be far more desirable for the hike then. But, C.C. said this was not possible on her end. Hawaii 5-0 was officially a no-go.
C.C. managed to book a flight out to D.C., where she was born and raised, to celebrate with a couple of old friends. She seemed to recover well from the extreme disappointment, determined to have a damn good time SOMEWHERE other than home. It was only then, when I breathed a sigh of relief for her, that I realized my heartache didn’t lighten. It wasn’t just her that I was sad for. It was also for me.
This was when I realized, I needed to heed my own lesson. I needed to respect and acknowledge that, not just this one trip to Hawaii, but ALL the trips that had been canceled since COVID were weighing on me. No amount of optimism and good attitude can compensate for grief. So, this past week, I’ve finally allowed myself to grieve. For memories with my aging mother on a trip that was her dream. For a long overdue reunion with our Thai son that had taken years to get our schedules to align. For an unexpected but highly anticipated excursion to celebrate the life of our friend. For all the small moments that each of these trips would have granted us. I grieved the losses of the sleepy mornings together staring at the skies over a cup of tea; the tiny moments of infectious laughter; the exhausted silliness that followed and intense day of hiking; and the goodbye hugs that would be the perfect bookend to time spent with loved ones.
I know that there is more travel, more memories, and more life ahead of us. It’s now time to start dreaming again about future adventures. Where to next????
Travel Grrrls 
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