The Real Adventure is Not What We Think It Is!

" In November 2013, I left India for Hong Kong to work as a Sea Kayaking and Backpacking instructor with Outward Bound Hong Kong (OB HK).

I had signed a two-year contract.

At the time, it seemed like I had finally arrived. For someone working in the outdoor industry, it was the sort of opportunity that many people spend years chasing.

The campus was located beside a beautiful beach inside Sai Kung Country Park. My accommodation was a bungalow by the beach. The water was crystal clear. The sand was white. On my days off, I could borrow sea kayaks and paddle among the islands that dot Hong Kong's coastline.

My colleagues came from Europe, Africa, Australia, and New Zealand. We played football in a semi-professional league. The salary was good. Life was active, social, and exciting.

Hong Kong itself was remarkable. Even today, I remember being struck by how clean everything was. Friends from the UK repeatedly commented on it. The city seemed efficient, prosperous, and exceptionally well organised.

And then there was the social life.

There were fashionable bars, expensive pubs, nightclubs, parties, alcohol, attractive women, and all the temptations that accompany youth, money, and freedom. We participated enthusiastically in all of it. There was always somewhere to go, someone to meet, something happening.

From the outside, there was no reason to leave.

Yet after only two months, I walked away from a two-year contract and returned to India.

Part of the reason was professional.

I was deeply disappointed by the culture of the organisation. I found it autocratic and, at times, openly racist. More importantly, I was unimpressed by its educational philosophy and pedagogy. Having already attended a couple of NOLS diploma courses in Glacier Mountaineering and Trip Leading (Backpacking and Teaching in the Outdoors), I found myself constantly comparing the two organisations. (NOLS : National Outdoor Leadership School, preeminent outdoor leadership school in the world from USA)

To me, Outward Bound Hong Kong felt strangely superficial.

The courses were highly structured, heavily controlled, and lacking in depth. The entire approach felt childish compared to what I had experienced with NOLS. And NOLS had already asked me to become their instructor in Autumn 2012.

The only other Indian staff there was the programme supervisor, Ashish Jonathan from Bangalore.

I was in awe of him.

He was one of those rare individuals who seem to exist several standard deviations away from ordinary life.

He had lived and worked as an instructor for NOLS in USA. In the outdoor world, that means you are a demi-god. He was also a professional rock climber and had guided on the great walls of Yosemite, on Half Dome, etc. At the time, he was planning an ambitious solo ascent in Alaska, on the most technical route on Denali - The Czech Direct.

For me, he represented the highest level of outdoor professionalism I had ever encountered.

When I told him I was leaving Hong Kong, he tried to convince me to stay.

He pointed out something obvious.

If I returned to India, there was very little future in adventure sports. The opportunities were limited. The salaries were poor. Professionally and financially, Hong Kong offered a far better future.

Everything he said was true.

In the years that followed, reality proved him right.

Yet I still felt compelled to leave.

During one of our conversations, I complained about the programmes.

"This feels childish," I told him. "This isn't real outdoor experiential education. This is Not Real Adventure."

I expected agreement.

Instead, he replied with a sentence that would stay with me for years.

"All these things we do in the mountains are not the real adventure. The real adventure is a man walking on the street."

I remember hearing the words and being completely unable to understand them.

What could that possibly mean?

At the time, adventure meant mountains.

Adventure meant glaciers, storms, technical climbs, remote expeditions, difficult rivers, and challenging objectives.

Adventure required specialised equipment, physical and mental fitness, technical knowledge, and months of preparation.

How could a man simply walking down a road be more adventurous than someone climbing a mountain?

The statement remained unresolved in my mind.

Five years later, in 2018, I was staying long-term (many months) at the Amazing (AirBnB) Bose Compound in Tiruvannamalai.

One day, a visitor from Chennai arrived. He came from a Rajasthani family, and after some conversation he asked me about my life. I told him about my travels, my work, and the unconventional path I had chosen.

He listened quietly.

Then he smiled and said something simple.

"Your life itself is an adventure."

The moment he spoke those words, Ashish's statement returned to me.

Suddenly, after five years, I understood.

The mountain climber appears adventurous because his activities look dramatic.

But in reality, most expeditions are carefully controlled.

Before departure, a good climber studies maps, weather forecasts, route descriptions, equipment lists, rescue procedures, and contingency plans. He trains for months. He prepares relentlessly. Every effort is made to minimise uncertainty.

A man walking down a road does none of that.

He simply commences.

He does not know whom he will meet.

He does not know what opportunities await him.

He does not know what will be gained.

He does not know what will be lost.

He does not know which conversation will alter the course of his life.

He does not know which ordinary day will become unforgettable.

He steps into an unknown future that no map can describe.

That is real adventure.

At some point, I realised that adventure is not an activity.

It is not rock climbing.

It is not kayaking.

It is not mountaineering.

It is not travelling to remote places.

Adventure is a state of mind.

It is a willingness to remain open to uncertainty.

It is the ability to meet life without demanding guarantees.

It is the courage to step into the unknown, be vulnerable and allow existence to reveal itself one moment at a time.

Once I understood this, something unexpected happened.

My fascination with adventure sports gradually began to fade.

Not because mountains became less beautiful.

Not because I stopped loving the outdoors.

And certainly not because I stopped appreciating the skill, discipline, and commitment required by those pursuits.

Rather, I no longer felt that mountains possessed something that ordinary life lacked.

For years, I had searched for adventure in remote places, wild places, places above the treeline (which is where I feel completely at home).

I had assumed that it existed on high peaks, in remote valleys, on difficult rivers, and on long expeditions.

Eventually, I discovered that the thing I had been searching for was present everywhere.

Life itself was the adventure.

The uncertainty I sought in the mountains was already present in every day.

The mystery I chased across continents existed in every human encounter, in every living moment.

The unknown was not waiting beyond the next summit.

It was waiting beyond the next moment.

In retrospect, what remains most valuable from my brief time in Hong Kong is not the beach, the nightlife, the football, the parties, the pretty girls, the money, or even the kayaking.

It is a single sentence spoken by a man I admired.

At the time, I could not understand it.

Years later, it changed the way I saw and live life.

"The real adventure is a man walking on the street."

At last, I understood!

"

PS: Below are some memories from Hong Kong!

Master TM from 'the' Globally Top-Rated Teacher

Disclaimer: Information on this website is provided for general purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. TM is not a substitute for professional medical care; individual results may vary.

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