Whenever I hear the word “luck,” it conjures up vivid images in my mind. As I reflect on my life experiences, I realize that for me, “luck” has a number of different meanings.
I believe we have all breathed a huge sigh of relief when we have miraculously escaped, without harm, an incident that would have likely had serious or catastrophic consequences. Examples that come to mind include nearly capsizing my ocean kayak in heavy seas in Resurrection Bay, and losing control of my car on an ice-covered road, but recovering just in the nick of time to miss sliding into oncoming traffic. I consider both of those examples as being lucky.
A second kind of luck is when we actually suffer a mishap, but were lucky the consequences were not worse. Falling with a ladder off a second-story loft onto the floor below or being rear-ended by a speeding car while stopped to make a left turn, both fit into that category. While these accidents resulted in relatively minor injuries, they could have been fatal.
A third category of luck is when we “thank our lucky stars” for things that are largely beyond our control. This would include being born into a loving family and never having experienced food or housing insecurity.
Then there is the luck of being at the right place at the right time. You can’t help but feel lucky when a dream comes true and you see a rare gray wolf in Hustai National Park in Mongolia, black-necked cranes in the Phobjikha Valley in the Kingdom of Bhutan, or mountain gorillas in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest in Uganda.
I have also experienced another kind of luck, which I call “dumb, but lucky.” This includes something I did, where in the moment, I was oblivious to the fact that my actions could have resulted in my untimely demise. It is embarrassing to admit that three examples of this kind of luck immediately come to mind. They are incidents that are not easily forgotten.
The first example includes paddling an ocean kayak in Prince William Sound up to the face of a massive tidewater glacier, named Harriman. After beaching the kayak and making my way to where the towering glacier met the shore, I posed for a picture with my right hand literally touching the ice, as I pretended to prop it up. Having just recently moved to Alaska, I was blissfully unaware that the part of the glacier I was ostensibly holding up could have broken off in that instant, crushing me.
The second example occurred while tent camping adjacent to Lake Naivasha in Kenya’s Rift Valley with my partner, John. There were lots of signs explaining what to do if hippos emerged from the lake during the night to graze on grass in the campground. However, there were no signs regarding safety protocols for Nile crocodiles.
Upon discovering a twenty-five-foot-long crocodile sunning itself by the lake, eyes closed and mouth agape revealing its many sharp teeth, I saw an irresistible photo opportunity. As I crept ever closer to get that National Geographic shot, John repeatedly warned me to back away. Ignoring his pleas and feeling safe behind the camera lens, it wasn’t until later I learned that crocodiles, like the one I had approached within just a few feet, can sprint up to twenty miles an hour. I would have been easy prey.
The third example took place on a guided nature hike in Cordovaca National Park in Costa Rica with John and a couple from France. Actually, I experienced two kinds of luck during the hike. Initially, I was lucky when the young French woman noticed, as she stepped over a log laying across the trail, a snake curled up in a bent branch. Everyone except me had unknowingly stepped over the snake. When the guide backtracked to check out what she saw, he turned white as a ghost. He identified the snake as a Fer-de-lance, the most dangerous venomous pit viper in Costa Rica. Being bitten by a pit viper, while in such a remote location, would likely have been a death sentence. I considered myself lucky that I had not been the sixth person to try the snake’s patience by stepping over it.
After regaining his composure, our guide used a long stick to coax the snake out of its hiding place and onto the trail. I will always look back on what happened next with a mixture of “What the heck was I thinking?” and “Whatever possessed me to do that?” Almost instinctively, I reached out my right foot and used it to point at the snake. That was the epitome of “dumb, but lucky,” since the snake was already stressed, and I had just placed my lower leg within easy striking distance of its fangs.
I believe we can all agree that luck comes in many forms; that it plays a part in all of our lives. Sometimes the consequences of our luck are significant; oftentimes, they’re not. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel fortunate to have been born into a time when a farm girl from Nebraska has had the opportunity to live a fulfilling life full of adventure. For me that feels like the best luck of all.