There are places you can only go with limitations. Perhaps more often than not. For those who grew up in a country with a lot of freedom and position of even basic privilege, we can assume access. To be honest, it’s what has brought us into the messiness in which we reside today. It’s not a bad thing to want more. But to assume more, demand more, and to judge, disrespect, and damage others in the process? It’s a problem, individually and collectively. We can point fingers, but unless we’re all on high alert, self-reflective, willing to respectfully speak up and establish guidelines, we won’t see issues right in front of us much of the time. How much change will we see in our time? Sometimes my hope wanes. But I digress.
When travelling years ago with a small group, one person was sensitive to scents. I asked everyone else in the group to be mindful of anything they used on themselves, but the next day, the individual let me know she was still struggling. The issue was I didn’t fully understand what her sensitivity involved because I wasn’t familiar with the extreme of it. While I couldn’t keep people from using soap and shampoo, I could ask them not to use anything additional on themselves in the mornings. No lotions, perfumes, hairspray, etc. Then I could reserve a place in the bus with empty seats and an open window for the woman. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was something. Also, we were in a hot environment. We were all going to sweat through the day and put up with some kind of smell. It might as well be as natural as possible. However, I couldn’t control it all.
On my trip to Alaska, the only way to see the majority of Denali National Park is by shuttle bus. Well, that’s not true. The only way to see the true majority of it is by backpacking it. But for most of us visitors, it’s by shuttle bus. It’s a half day trip. Some people might see it as limiting—not being able to drive themselves, pull over when and where they want, walk where they want. There are confines, but guess what? I got to see much more than if that bus didn’t drive that road every day. I got to take photos because I wasn’t driving. I didn’t risk driving off the side of a mountain. Important landmarks and history were pointed out to me. And there were dozens of eyes scouring the landscape for wildlife instead of just mine.
Not everyone could have a window seat. Not everyone was on the side of something of interest that was pointed out every single time. Not everyone was close to the door when it was time to exit. Not everyone could hear the driver as well when he was telling stories. Not everyone had the same fresh air. Not everyone agreed with the speed we were going. Not everyone saw the same wildlife. Not everyone got the same photos. Not everyone liked the snacks. Not everyone had the same attitude.
We were all on the same bus that day in Denali National Park. We all had an amazing opportunity to experience beautiful scenery and amazing wildlife. Every single one of us could enjoy the day—or not.
It made no difference to the mountains around us. It made no difference to the rushing rivers or the soaring birds or the ptarmigans perched on the treetops. It made no difference to the Dall sheep far above us or the fox on a mission to deliver the vole to his family or the wolverine that was sneakily only seen by a few. It made no difference to the moose munching through the forest or the caribou traipsing through the river beds and brush.
And honestly, would it make much difference to us if we saw a specific animal or not, if we got a specific photo or not? Sure, we’d get to tell a cool story, but if we were focused on something else, if we let someone else look out the window, or if the timing was simply off, was it the end of the world?
There was a group of girls in the bus, and they were having a blast handing their phones back and forth, scrambling to get the “money shot” anytime we were close to an animal. At first, I was a bit judgy, thinking, “Do you really think your life is going to change, because you take a photo of an animal from a moving bus?” But then I realized that wasn’t what it was about. They were making memories together. It was the process, not the result. And that was the money shot. The core memory wasn’t the photo they’d hang on the wall; it was the memory recording of all of them giggling and scrambling and sharing the afternoon together.
Are there limitations? Absolutely. But let’s enjoy what we can with whom and where we are. Because otherwise we’ll miss out on some pretty cool snapshots of memories.