Overcoming My Fears In Norway

I’ll let you in to a little secret. In keeping with the general nature of secrets, it’s something I’m a bit ashamed of. It’s something that makes me feel bad about myself and it holds me back – both in my personal life and in my career as a travel blogger.

Here goes: I’m a massive scaredy cat. Huge. Ginormous. The scared-est of cats. The most petrified person to ever exist; but only when faced with a select and ridiculous number of tasks, all of which involve having faith in my own abilities as a human.

Doesn’t really bode well for someone who loves to travel and do cool things, does it?

You know how as children, we’re constantly warned by our parents to be careful? Those reproaches in our infant years and throughout youth were intended to keep us safe when we were toddling around like tiny, drunk old men: unsteady on our feet and unable to make good judgements. Come to think of it, I suppose that’s exactly why my mum’s be carefuls carried over to my teenage years – I was also unsteady and ready to make poor decisions after I’d necked a half bottle of Kirov in the local glen back then – but that’s another story.

Be careful served mainly as a preservation tactic, didn’t it? Tell your kid to be careful, and they’re less likely to die on you.  We’ve all made it to adulthood, so it obviously worked.

I think though, that I listened to those warnings too closely. I internalised this notion that the world isn’t safe and perhaps the most debilitating assumption of all: that I’m not capable of navigating it.

I was never a very bold child. I didn’t play outside much, found sports and team games mortifying because I wasn’t good at them, and was always happiest sat inside with an Enid Blyton book. That cautious nature carried over into my adult life.

But then I caught wanderlust and realised that the two don’t mix…

Watch my Norway travel video on Youtube

Recognising My Fears

My stand-offishness towards anything I deemed dangerous wasn’t something that I really noticed until university, when I left the island I grew up on and was suddenly thrust into a social circle full of people who were very gung-ho about travelling, something I was attracted to but had never really been exposed to before. And like, could a girl like me even do that?

Thankfully, I overcame my fear of / hesitation about travelling, and then of travelling solo, in my early twenties. You can read about how I moved abroad alone, even though I was terrified if you’re interested in that little story.

But at 26, there were still a few fears left to conquer. It’s a strange thing for a travel blogger to admit, because I’m supposed to be someone who inspires others and shows them how fun the world is, but I’m basically terrified of activities.

Fear Of Failing (and Flailing)

Walking into a room full of strangers and introducing myself? No bother. Journeying across the world alone? Nailed it. But riding a bike, driving a car or doing anything that requires me to coordinate my limbs and Be In Control? I go to pieces.

I can only suppose it stems from an inherent lack of confidence when it comes to anything that involves coordination. Steering any kind of vehicle, whether it has an engine or not, brings my heart into my mouth and makes me very, very aware of my failings.

You can image how I felt then, when I read my Norway press trip itinerary and saw two activities I generally try to avoid: downhill cycling and kayaking.

Shiiiiiiiiiii*t

Steering Myself Forward

I’ve been working on learning to drive a car (reluctantly) for about a year now. I just failed my fourth test (read the woe-is-me post I wrote after the test if you’ve struggled too) so it’s not going very well. I’m getting there with two-wheeled vehicles, though. I borrowed Tom’s nana’s bike in preparation for another press trip, where I had to do an e-biking tour in Benidorm last year. When the time came to saddle up, I fell off my bike at the foot of a hill in front of a gaggle of rowdy stags. You can imagine how that went down.

I can just about manage cycling on flat surfaces if there are no obstacles in my way, but in Norway I surprised myself. Despite being absolutely terrified, I cycled 8km downhill in the wind and rain, navigating tight bends and steep slopes, in Geiranger.

I didn’t do the entire route because the bottom was a bit too scary, but I dismounted that bike (which I’m pretty sure was a child’s bike, because nothing else was small enough for me), feeling absolutely made up with myself. For some it’s just a new, scenic setting for one of their favourite activities, but for me cycling down that mountain was a huge leap. It showed me I was actually capable of something I never thought I could do. Weirdly, once I got going, I kind of loved it. I’m not embarrassed to admit (okay, I am) that I whispered words of encouragement and later, self-congratulations under my breath as I zipped down that road at what felt like (but most certainly wasn’t) lightning speed.

Kayaking on the Fjords

Cycling task accomplished, I was then lead down to the waters edge towards my kayak. Now, if you’re a long-time While I’m Young reader, you may remember my blog post about kayaking in Kaikoura, New Zealand. If you’ve read that, you’ll understand why I was a bit nervous about kayaking. Basically, I capsized in the sea. In New Zealand’s winter. The instructors later told us we’d managed the first flip of the season! Not really an accolade I was aiming for, to be honest.

There had been no capsizes so far this year in Norway, but that didn’t reassure me much. Like, have you met me?

I fought hard to make sure I didn’t get the back seat in our two-man kayaks, because I didn’t want the task of steering. It’s the responsibility of controlling a moving vehicle that overwhelms me, so I teamed up with the instructor just to put my mind at ease.

It was absolutely incredible. I don’t even know why I was worried, because the water was calm and once we pushed away from the shore, a feeling of serenity washed over me. I was doing it! I was kayaking on the Norwegian fjords, which I now think should be on everyone’s bucket list.

Can you image if I had stayed inside, or stood waiting on the shore, just because I was scared or because I had a bad experience five years ago? I would have been SO disappointed with myself if I’d given it all a miss and had to listen to everyone when they came back and told me how amazing it was!

FOMO Versus Fear

My risk aversion prevents me missing out on a lot of fun, but I’m determined to die with no regrets and am trying not to say no to adventures just because my first reaction to them is a big fat nope. We all have our fears and things that give us that sicky, you’re-going-to-eff-this-up feeling in the pit of our stomachs. But if I can travel the world despite my careful (scared sh*tless) nature? You probably can too.

Travel forces you to get comfortable with being outside of your comfort zone, and that’s one of the reasons I pursue it so ferociously. Because I know it’s good for me. Because I’m aware that drinking tea and scrolling through Instagram on the sofa, or seeing the same faces in my local bar every weekend, isn’t going to be the stuff of lifelong memories.

Norway is one of those destinations that made me feel alive, and it reminded me that our comfort zones are meant to be left. Norway reinforced my resolve to make a habit of doing the things that terrify me. And for that, I’m forever indebted to the country.

Can you identify with my story? I’d love to hear your own tales of overcoming your fears while travelling! Make me feel less like a big wimp, please.