Discomfort

For a while now I have been formulating a theory – that when you are tested through adversity, you become better.

I call this the theory of discomfort.

What I mean by this, is when you experience some kind of discomfort, you learn about yourself, you surprise yourself with your ability to cope and more often than not, overcome fear and weakness.

Now I hate preachy stuff, but this is something I have begun to truly believe and I have done so through experiencing it myself. From my experience in research in the arctic, to public speaking in front of over 200 people. Each of this uncomfortable experiences make you better and I believe we should all seek discomfort and its benefits.

As part of this, a good friend of mine, Bree Stewart, has chosen to join me in a charity bike ride from Adelaide to Uluru in September. Our goal is to raise awareness and funds for mental health and the charity, Beyondblue. It is also to help me regain fitness after three torn ankle ligaments as well as giving us some much needed discomfort. You can view (and perhaps donate) our charity donation page here. 

Neither of us have much road riding experience beyond riding to work. We have a lot of work to do to get the endurance into our legs but we are very positive.

11052489_342673249269686_4093754021783316071_n

Along with this theory of discomfort and my passion for adventure and journalism, I will be launching a blog and online magazine later this year. Discomfort magazine will be all about promoting mental health, personal development, conservation and appreciation for nature through adventure, physical experience outdoors and a little risk taking. A little wordy, but it is basically aimed at getting people outdoors and back to nature, as I believe it is good for the mind and soul. Stay tuned for it.

National Geographic explorer and photographer Cory Richards, a personal hero of mine, explains this theory and his personal story.

Advertisements

The land of the long white cold

Video

In February of 2014, I traveled to the hamlet of Ulukhaktok in the Canadian Arctic. The project focused on Inuit traditional knowledge and adaptation to climate change.

My role was to document this project.

Along the way, I made many friends and learned valuable life lessons. The journey has changed my life.

The deep bite of the arctic

The sun sets over the horizon. The frozen sea seen here is the infamous Northwest Passage.

The sun sets over the horizon. The frozen sea seen here is the infamous Northwest Passage.

I sat at the table in awe of the story I was listening to – it involved a hammer, wood chisel and a frost bitten toe. I could barely contain my amazement at the story and tried to act casually by sipping my hot, black tea. Stories of pure cold that bites deep into your bones are as alien to me as this landscape – for a boy from sub-tropical Australia, the Canadian Arctic is another world. Continue reading

Ulukhaktok

1N3A7442

I stared out the window of our plane with awe as we soared above the Earth. The vast landscape of trees and small hills stretched to the horizon. To the north, a line was visible. the trees became thinner, smaller and not so dense. Then there were no trees at all. Just snow and ice. Continue reading

Heading north

 

Polar bear at the airport – Yellowknife

I sat with my head buried in the toilet, throwing up my lunch and dinner. Something had invaded my body and really smacked me around. The night was spent wrenching while Teeny called Australia for advice from my parents. We needed to catch a flight north from Calgary to Yellowknife in five hours. Continue reading

The Fish, again…

1N3A7158

On the 9th, we all travelled south the the US state of Montana. Our destination was Whitefish. After a unique and humour filled visit to the US border customs offices, where we were “interrogated” (filled out some forms) by an aloof customs officer who clearly enjoyed entertaining Australians. Teeny somehow sweet-talked the officer into giving us wicked Elk stamps in our passports (I know you’re jealous). After three hours or so, we arrived in the “wild west” town of Whitefish for the third time. Continue reading