Chris Wristen

I never really understood why my parents’ eyes would tear up at the airport as I’d prepare to embark on another trip.

It’s as though I was being dropped off for my freshman year of college all over again, hearing reminders to be responsible but have a good time “and don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

With college, I was just 40 minutes down the highway. With my travels everything seemed relatively straightforward: Alaska is in the United States and as long as I carry bear mace I should be OK, and almost everybody in Western Europe speaks English so finding help in an emergency shouldn’t be all that difficult.

I suppose I got a taste of that parental instinct a few weeks ago when I sent away for my Tanzania visa. It’s standard practice that you must include your passport (they insert the visa into your passport, as well as — I’m assuming — use it to do some sort of background check before allowing you into the country). People send their passports away all the time in instances such as this, but the trip to the post office on May 4 left me with a bit of a pit in my stomach.

I felt like I was telling it “Have a safe trip to the embassy. Enjoy your time there, but make it back home in once piece.”

My mom has expressed disappointment that they don’t stamp your passport at every border crossing in Europe like they did when she was 18 because, even though the open borders allow for more hassle-free traveling, the collection of passport stamps made a nice record of where you’d been. The passport in itself became a keepsake.

In my case, the passport represents about a $5,000 or $6,000 investment and, if the passport doesn’t return on time … there’s no trip and only the refund of whatever my travel insurance will agree to.

I paid for expedited processing — three business days instead of the customary five or more — to make sure my passport returned home in time for me to not grow nervous. After about two and a half weeks, however, the pit in my stomach returned when the United States Postal Service online tracking service showed no record of the passport having been mailed back. I looked into how long it would take to get a replacement passport if need be, and I would be cutting it close if that became necessary. I searched online and found no records of others having problems getting their passports returned.

Then, at about midnight Thursday, the USPS website showed that the package had arrived in Kansas City, Kan., at a sorting facility. There was no record of it ever leaving Washington, D.C. Regardless, my prized passport returned home safely the next day with a visa as a souvenir.

Violence has raged in Bangkok for weeks, and it’s taken a drastic turn for the worse during the past couple days. In fact, the uprising in Thailand’s capital has become so frightening that the United States embassy today has begun doing voluntary evacuations of staff.

Travel to Thailand is being discouraged, and the Thai people — historically a very peaceful community — appear to be on the verge of at least a small-scale civil war.

I’ve found the recent headlines chilling because just six months ago my brother-in-law returned from a five-month work assignment in Bangkok. My sister and nephew were there for the first three months before pregnancy required her to return home. Their time in Thailand was a bit of a culture shock and an eye-opening adventure, but the country was at peace while they were there. The unrest that rocks the country today is happening one stop away by skytrain from their former residence.

Although they’ve been back in the United States for months, the news reports still make me nervous because of their close connection to the area. I know that if they’d stayed longer, their safety still would not have been an issue. They’d have been evacuated from the country — or at least relocated to a different part of the city — at the first sign of danger.

I reflect on this because as I prepare to make my first trip to Africa I’ve been asked if I’m nervous about traveling solo. I’ve been asked the same thing about previous backpacking trips to Switzerland. Just like with those prior adventures, my answer about this one remains the same: no.

I worry about others sometimes, but not myself. That hasn’t always been the case, but the more I’ve traveled, the less I’ve concerned myself with things beyond my control.

Most of my journeys when I was younger seemed easy. Mom and dad organized the trip, whether it was a flight to the beach or a road trip to Michigan, or we’d join a guided tour that made Mexico and Europe seem simple.

In college, there were a few bumps during business trips for the student newspaper — a missed late-night train after covering a basketball game at Madison Square Garden that left coworkers and I stranded until 3 a.m.; a quick overnight to Waco, Texas, to cover an ESPN Big Monday game without renting a car or booking a hotel room — but everything always worked out.

After graduation, however, I began to have some doubts when a trip to southern California in the summer of 2002 went catastrophically wrong. The trip started with a lobster-red sunburn and a lost pair of glasses in the ocean within the first 48 hours, and it ended with a trip to the hospital after severely spraining an ankle while stepping in a tidepool the morning after camping on the beach in San Diego.

Any travel fears were put to rest in 2006 when, after deciding to go to Europe about three weeks before departure, a few bumps in the road that could have been catastrophic turned out to be no big deal.

While making my way from Switzerland to Barcelona, I nearly got stranded in Milan, Italy, when I was informed that the next train with seats available would leave two days later — meaning I would arrive in Barcelona as my flight home was scheduled to depart from Madrid. After about two minutes of panic, I gathered my wits, grabbed my rail guide and rerouted back to Geneva before hopping a train to Barcelona.

Later, while waiting for a train from Barcelona to Madrid, I hopped online and discovered that a terror threat had been thwarted in London. Moments later, I checked my e-mail and had a message from my sister saying my parents were worried sick. Not me. What could I do about it? After replying that I was fine, I checked out the airline Web site to see what precautions I would need to anticipate at the airport.  A few hours later, I was back on the train to Madrid for a worry-free finish to an unforgettable journey.

I’ve done two more solo trips to Switzerland since then, and also did a backpacking trip with friends in Denali, Wrangell-St. Elias and Kenai Fjords national parks in Alaska. Sure, there were a few opportunities for danger on those trips as well, but by taking proper precautions (don’t bring food in your tent unless you want grizzly bears to join you, don’t walk too close to the edge on a trail, always have a map) there’s little reason to worry.

Tanzania will be a new experience, as will the dangers of hiking at extreme altitude, but by training sufficiently and trekking with guides that take safety seriously I see no need to be nervous.

Anxious? Sure. Curious? Absolutely. But nervous or scared? Nah. Mom will take care of that for me while I’m out having fun.

A 30^th birthday, a volcano eruption in Iceland that shut down most international air travel, a healthy check-up and an understaffed couple weeks at work.

Yes, plenty has happened in the world at home and abroad during the past three weeks, and with it my departure day has inched ever closer.

With just a few weeks between now and departing for Kilimanjaro, so much has happened but so much is falling into place. My spot on the trek is reserved and paid for, my flights are booked, my Tanzania visa is on the way, my vaccinations are scheduled for this week and I made the last of my major gear purchases on Friday: an Osprey Talon 33 daypack that I will wear and an Osprey Transporter 75 for the porters to carry.

All I’m really missing right now is a well-broken-in pair of boots. I’ve owned a pair of Asolos for a year and wore them last summer in Switzerland. They’re durable, waterproof and provide ankle support, but they gave me blisters then and they’re giving me blisters now.

I’ve worn them on and off during the past year, but even now they’re still rubbing my lower right heel. Whether pounding out a few miles on a training hike or sweating in them on the treadmill or Stairmaster at the gym, a warm spot turned into a full-blown blister on the heel.

The solution? Duct tape.

If there are two must-haves for any hiker, energy bars and plenty of water are them. If there’s a third must-have, it should be duct tape. Good for patching holes in rain gear or repairing a damaged boot, duct tape also has been suggested as a possible deterrent or cure for blisters.

I’ve met a few hikers who swear by duct tape and others who laugh at the idea that the old fix-all around the house could also fix your feet. During the past week, however, it has done the trick. Two pieces about six inches long, wrapped around the heel and secured to the sides of each foot have done the trick. The left heel remains as healthy as always, while the right one is quickly returning to normal despite continued workouts on inclined surfaces.

If the tape holds and my feet are fixed, then these final few weeks of preparation should be stress free — as long as that volcano in Iceland behaves itself.

Some fear turning 30 as if it’s a plague.

It’s as though they believe they’ll go to bed a young, healthy 29-year old with a full head of hair, only to wake up the next morning wrinkled, white-haired or bald and an ancient 30 years old.

It’s pretty silly.

Older should mean you’re more certain of who you are, where you’re going and what you want to accomplish.

You don’t need to have all the answers, but it shouldn’t be an excuse to ignorantly fear change, whether in your life or in the world around you.

It’s like Andy Dufrense said in “The Shawshank Redemption”: “I guess it comes down to a simple choice really; get busy living, or get busy dying.”

I turned 30 today, and in addition to spending a few minutes pondering some insightful lyrics made famous by Tim McGraw and composed by the brilliant Phil Vassar, I spent my first day as a 30-year-old enjoying some of the good things that will make this year and the next 30 wonderful. I hung out with my awesome little nephews, did some more planning for my Kilimanjaro climb and enjoyed a sunny day in Lawrence.

Yes, 30 is a year older, but it’s also the gateway to many more great memories.

Two months.

If all goes well, that’s when I’ll be summiting Mount Kilimanjaro. Starting at the Barafu Huts in the middle of the night and climbing by headlamp light to Stella Point and, hopefully, on to Uhuru Peak. Two months from today.

It’s hard to believe that three months of training are already in the books, and these next two will fly by.

The goals during these next two months will be to get stronger, healthier, improve endurance and do anything possible to improve my chances of summiting. There’s so much to do between now and departure. There’s a flight to book this week, a Tanzania visa to obtain, vaccines to get and a few pieces of necessary gear to purchase.

I’m not nervous, but there is a bit of anxiety. I haven’t been to Africa before, so everything about the experience will be new. I don’t know any of my crew mates I’ll be climbing with — although I know the people I meet will be among the biggest highlights of the trip as they have been on previous trips abroad. I’ve also never undertaken a physical challenge quite like this at such extreme altitude, so I have no way of knowing if all of my preparation is sufficient until I’m actually on the mountain.

Only time will tell.

Two months … it’ll be here in no time.

I’ve secured a spot on a Kilimanjaro trek!

I received a response from Henry Stedman of climbmountkilimanjaro.com today, and have been accepted onto one of his treks. There’s a little bit of paperwork to take care of, as well as airfare to secure, but today was a big breakthrough!

No more dreaming. Time to do it.

I heard back from Intrepid Travel on Wednesday, and at this point not enough people are signed up to guarantee the departure of the Kilimanjaro trek I’d been planning on joining.

Now, I’m looking at other options.

I submitted an inquiry on Thursday with another guiding outfitter that looks like an outstanding option — as long as they can guarantee departure. That outfitter, climbmountkilimanjaro.com, is headed by Henry Stedman, the author of “Kilimanjaro: The Trekking Guide to Africa’s Highest Mountain.” It’s widely considered to be the definitive guide to climbing the mountain, and the possibility of climbing with the author or one of his hand-picked guides is very appealing.

Unfortunately, he’s on the mountain as I type this, so communication is a bit slow. My hope, of course, is that it will be worth the wait.

A week ago today I received a phone call from Justin. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, they will be unable to make the Kilimanjaro trek with me.

I’m definitely disappointed for them because I know it is a journey they’ve wanted to take for a number of years. I’m also disappointed because they are outstanding travel partners who make any adventure better. Our two-week Alaska trip in 2008 was proof of that.

Still, I’ve traveled abroad solo before so this won’t be new territory. I’ve been training seriously for nearly three months so I’m still planning to move forward. I’ve examined a few fallback options, but my focus remains on Kilimanjaro.

I contacted an outfitter today regarding joining both a climbing trek and a post-trek safari in Kenya and Tanzania. At this point not enough people are signed up for the climb to guarantee it’s departure, but they will get back to me tomorrow about it.

I’m looking into a couple other outfitters just in case it doesn’t work out. The hang-up I face at the moment is time limitations. This trip basically is only possible because I have a money credit with an airline, but it expires June 23 so my trek options are a bit limited.

Hopefully I will know more tomorrow. I’d like to get the trek booked by the end of the week so I can finalize my flight plan and then move full speed ahead with obtaining the necessary vaccinations and visas.

167.

That’s the number that stared back at me when I stepped on the scale a few days after returning home from Denver.

A few calories had been burned going down the slopes at Keystone and snowshoeing on Squaw Mountain, but a majority of the trip was spent kicking back with friends, stuffing myself silly and enjoying some of Colorado’s local breweries — more carb-loading than calorie-burning.

Weight itself wasn’t the issue, even though it’s the heaviest I’ve ever been. Instead, it served as a reminder that I have a long way to go if I hope to condition myself well enough to be confident that I can reach the summit of Kilimanjaro.

Since returning home from Switzerland in late June, my cardiovascular efforts gradually tailed off. That, paired with my habit of eating two large Little Caesars hot-and-readies per week, made for a dangerous habit that needed to change.

In the two months since returning from Colorado, cardio has been a major part of my routine five days per week. In the process, the excess pounds melted off quickly. Within a month I was back to my normal 160.

My legs, lungs and knees all feel stronger. I’m feeling more confident about my chances moving forward, and I’m eager to nail down a departure date for Tanzania.

In fact, now that my cardio training is coming along, I’m taking another step in my trip preparation — adjusting my diet.

For the first time in ages I went to the grocery store this week and returned home with no frozen pizzas. The only frozen goods in my basket were some yogurt, vegetables and some grilled chicken strips to go on salads. I cut back to one hot-and-ready last week and will do without entirely this week, opting instead to cook for myself.

It’s not a complete transformation, but it’s a step in the right direction.

The local gym isn’t exactly the equivalent of the Olympic Training Center, but suffice to say there are a few similarities this time of year.

For one thing, I’m surrounded by lots of like-minded people with various athletic goals in mind, whether it’s training for something or simply striving for a healthier lifestyle.

Then there’s the fact that it just might be colder here in Kansas than it is at the Winter Olympics in Vancouver right now.

Also consider that Olympic athletes can be seen on the TV screens all over the gym right now, so — in some stretch of the imagination — I’m surrounded by Olympians.

Sure, it’s a bit of a stretch to call this the OTC, but whatever. The fact of the matter is the Winter Olympics have provided an ideal source of inspiration to ramp up the intensity of training to climb Kilimanjaro. Every athlete has a story. Every one of them has pushed through physical pain much greater than mine to reach their goals.

I’m getting too old for this. You’re not that old. Apolo Anton Ohno is just two years younger and chose to put himself back into training to make a third trip to the Olympics.

My knees hurt. So what. Hannah Kearney tore her ACL three years ago, rehabbed her knee and won the gold medal in the moguls.

Climbing to 19,340 feet might be dangerous. Dangerous? Tell that to Shaun White.

It’s easy to make excuses and let fatigue or laziness take control. Thankfully, these gym walls are filled with screens of inspiring Olympians, making it just a bit easier to stay on the bike or Stairmaster a little bit longer, watch one more race or one more run down the slopes and push the body harder than it originally wanted to go.