Fear...and Sleeping on the Beach

I have thought a lot about fear during this time on the road.  Fear, anxiety, worry.  Different names for the same, or similar emotions.  Whatever you call it, worry has been popping up in all sorts of different situations, for different members of the family, at different times.  Being together 24-7 and in new and uncertain situations has certainly allowed me to see how we all worry in distinctly unique ways.

Swing bridges are a common fear-inducing experience. 
But one we all conquered and faced repeatedly on our walks.

Looking down what could be a fear-inducing swing across the river. 

Is it scarier to swing across or to watch someone you love zip across?

There have been the predictable and usual worries such as fear of heights, spiders, missing a plane, getting lost on a subway. There are the grownup worries like "is this trip a mistake?" or "where are we sleeping tonight?" or "are the kids going to be really behind in schoolwork" (which often leads to worries about their education in general).  There are all the worries that go along with making decisions and the fear of making the wrong one (we can't do it all or see it all, so did we choose the "right" country/ sight/ town/ route/ walk/ museum/restaurant ... you name it and we can probably find a version of FOMO).  There are fears at bedtime and sleeping in strange places.  There is the constant quiet hum of parenting anxiety; what are our parenting blinders not letting us see? Are the kids learning enough resilience, discipline, kindness ... let alone math, spelling and critical thinking skills? The worry about the path to their still unformed futures, how to help guide them and support them, and then the worry that my worry will seep out onto them.  The worry that I am a jerk, or not enough of a jerk, when I keep marching up the trail as my kids complain behind me.  (For the most part I think I am just the right amount and don't worry too much about this one ... just when the complaining lasts the entire hike, or museum, or whatnot, I start to question my commitment to following through on that one activity...)  And so, there is the omnipresent flicker of worry, fear, anxiety.  Call it what you may.  Perhaps we are a family of worriers.  Perhaps we have just thrown ourselves into an advanced level course of living with uncertainty.  Perhaps it is a bit of both.  Either way there is lots of energy that goes to managing the worry.  Working through it, acknowledging it.  Sometimes explicitly, sometimes gently, sometimes with laughter.  And sometimes it sneaks up and catches us unaware. Like a wave.  A Tsunami if you will.

Never was this so clear as during our time on the Able Tasman coastal track on the South Island of New Zealand.  The Able Tasman is known as a beautiful national park with wonderful walks that lead you from hidden cove to hidden cove.  It is a kayaker's paradise and camping along the great walk is one of the most sought out experiences on the island. 

Ferry from north to south island.

Our trip to Able Tasman would start once we arrived on the south island, driving a few hours northwest from Nelson.

Leo took the lead months before we arrived in New Zealand to research where we could camp and applied for a permit for a night of camping on an isolated beach an hour or so walk in from a campground.  There was a limit of 12 people at this beach so we would be half of the crowd.  This walk and camping spot was something Leo and I had been looking forward to.  It seemed like a unique opportunity and the descriptions of the area sounded beautiful.  We made our way to the start of our walk.  It took a lot of extra driving, but we were sure it was "worth it."

The drive from Nelson to Able Tasman was beautiful.

More views on the drive.

We loaded up our packs and headed out on the trail. We were excited and ready for an adventure.

All was fine until the kids realized where we were heading.  It might have been the Tsunami evacuation signs that tipped them.  It may have been hearing that there had just been an earthquake near where we had just spent the last week.  It may have been their active imaginations.  Whatever it was, at least 2 of the 3 were NOT excited about the idea of camping on a beach.  Nope.  Didn't matter that it was beautiful.  Didn't matter that it was a rare opportunity.  Didn't matter that it was isolated and no one else was there.  In fact that made it WORSE.  Why would we be the only ones who chose to camp here?  The worries, the fear, the anxiety at first seemed a bit like a joke.  But nope, it was real.  The kids were NOT into the idea of camping where a Tsunami could arrive without warning.  It didn't matter that Tsunamis were rare.  They made an evaluation of the site and determined which way to go to get to high ground.  They expressed their displeasure at the choice of camping spot.  They stated this was the worse decision we had ever made and they were not going to sleep.  They sulked a bit and fretted.  And then they did settle in. 

Our tent was in these trees on Anapai beach.

This was the beach.

We discovered that dad's criteria for isolated and private beach doesn't jive as much for the kids.

We walked the beach, looked for shells and watched the sunset. 

Luna prepared "meals" from the sea.

We had lots of fun with the cheeky Weka birds who were master thieves.  We had become complacent with our food around camp as New Zealand doesn't have lots of critters that will get into your stuff as we do at home, however the Weka were as efficient as any camp robber we've known.  They stole half our food in the blink of an eye and almost made away with our car key.  This provided good entertainment for all of us.  Luckily we had more than enough food and made do with noodles in a cup for supper. 

The Weka's were persistent and sneaky!  They provided lots of entertainment.

Solaz and I hiked to a neighboring cove, admiring the view.  We all explored the beach.  We did not retreat.  A type of exposure therapy I suppose.

Looking down at our beach.

The neighboring cove.

All in all it was a beautiful walk, a special place to camp and a memorable 24 hours.  But as soon as the sun was up and camp was down the kids wanted OUT.  So there was no lingering, it was all business as we exited the "tsunami zone".  Leo and I could only laugh. Really, you can never totally guess what will provoke fear, worry or anxiety.  And so we continue to meet it, head on, in ourselves and our kids, when it pops up. 

And we are out of there...

Almost back to the car.