MidReal Story
Sensory Summit: Adventure Beyond Words
Scenario: Existing verbal communication has limitations, especially in rock climbing, hiking, skiing, surfing, and biking, where some sensory experiences are difficult to describe, what if it were now possible to record sensory experiences during these activities and have the ability to share them with others?
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I have always been an outdoorsy girl.
I was born loving the feel of fresh air on my face and the sound of birds chirping over the quiet whisper of a mountain stream.
The mountains, the ocean, the forest—these are the places I feel most at home.
The activities that take me there are more than hobbies to me; they’re necessities.
I need to go rock climbing just as much as I need to eat and sleep.
It’s how I recharge.
I tried living in the city once, but I was miserable.
I felt like a part of me was missing.
It sounds silly to say, but it really did feel like my soul was suffocating in that concrete jungle.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of pushing my body to its limits and coming out on top.
It’s that moment when you’re balancing on the edge of a cliff, one false move away from tumbling down, and you know you’re going to make it, that you’re going to be okay.
The taste of victory is just so incredibly sweet.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not doing this for bragging rights or anything like that.
Being out in nature is humbling, and it reminds me how big the world is and how small I am in comparison.
I learn something new every time I go out, whether it’s about myself or about nature, and it’s those little things that keep me coming back for more.
Besides, I look good in spandex.
Rock climbing is my favorite sport, but I also love hiking, skiing, snowboarding, surfing, kayaking—well, you get the idea.
Hiking is great because you can do it anywhere.
You don’t have to drive two hours to find a mountain or a crag; you can just throw on your boots and go.
That doesn’t mean I don’t love hiking in the mountains though—I do!
There’s just something so satisfying about putting one foot in front of the other and knowing that you won’t stop until you reach the top.
Skiing and snowboarding are probably the most exhilarating activities I do on a regular basis—besides rock climbing, of course.
There’s nothing like flying down a mountain at breakneck speed with the wind whipping through your hair, the snow stinging your cheeks, and a clear blue sky overhead.
Surfing is totally different but just as fun.
There’s something so peaceful about being out on the water by yourself with no one else around.
You can forget about all your problems for a while and just focus on catching the next wave.
I’m not very good at it, but it’s still fun nonetheless.
There are so many things I love about the outdoors, and I do my best to share them with my best friend, Alex Johnson, through words and photos, but it’s hard to describe just how great it is to be out in nature without actually being there with her.
Don’t get me wrong—I love talking to Alex, and our conversations are always interesting, but there is something so special about being out in the wild that you just can’t put into words.
It’s like trying to explain what chocolate tastes like to someone who has never had it before—you can try, but you’ll never be able to fully convey the experience through words alone.
That’s the problem I have when I talk to Alex about my outdoor adventures, and it’s not because she doesn’t understand what I’m saying or because she doesn’t care—she does—but it’s hard to capture the full essence of a moment when you’re not actually there living it with me.
Alex is one of the few people who actually gets it, though.
She loves the outdoors as much as I do, and she gets just as much joy out of being out there as I do.
We are two peas in a pod when it comes to the things we love to do, and we’ve been friends since we were little kids growing up together in our small hometown in Colorado.
Sure, we live in different cities now, and we’ve both gone our separate ways career-wise—her as an engineer and me as a park ranger—but we still make an effort to see each other at least once a month, even if it means driving for hours to meet halfway or hopping on a plane for a quick weekend trip.
We don’t let anything get in the way of our friendship, not even distance or careers, because we know how important we are to each other, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
When we’re together, we spend hours talking about everything we’ve done since we last saw each other, reliving each moment like it was yesterday, and trying our best to explain what it felt like to be out there experiencing it all so that we never forget how amazing those moments were
The problem is, I know she’ll never truly understand how it feels to be out there without actually being there herself, and that’s why I’m trying so hard to help her see it all through my eyes.
We’re sitting on a cliff edge overlooking the ocean, our feet dangling over the side, and the sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, casting everything around us in a warm golden hue.
I’m trying my best to explain what it was like out there today, how the waves were perfect for surfing and how it felt like we had the whole beach to ourselves, but I don’t think I’m doing it justice.
Alex is nodding along, trying to picture it all in her head, but there’s no way she can.
She wasn’t there; she didn’t experience it for herself, and that makes me a little sad.
I want her to know how great it was today, how beautiful it was, how lucky we were to be out there on such a perfect day, but I know I’ll never be able to tell her how great it was without actually taking her out there myself.
I wish I could describe it better, put into words what it felt like to be out there on my board with the sun on my face and the smell of saltwater in my nose.
But no matter how hard I try, I always come up short because there’s just no way to explain it all.
I don’t have the words, and I don’t think anyone does.
It’s like trying to describe color or sound or taste: you can get close, but you can never really capture the essence of it all, never truly convey what it feels like or looks like or sounds like without actually experiencing it for yourself.
And that’s why I find myself at a loss for words yet again today.
I’ve been sitting here for the last ten minutes trying my best to explain what it was like out there today—how it felt like we were riding on top of the world—but nothing I say seems good enough.
“I think you need new words,” Alex says with a laugh when she notices me struggling again.
“I mean, if you can’t explain it all with the ones you’ve got…”
I roll my eyes at her and give her a little shove with my shoulder.
“I don’t need new words,” I say.
“It’s just… I don’t have the right ones.”
Alex raises an eyebrow at me, and I let out a little sigh.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I guess I just wish I could find a way to explain it all better.”
“Some things are better left unsaid,” Alex says with a shrug.
I look at her and smile because I know she’s right.
There are some things that you can only understand if you’ve experienced them for yourself, and this is one of them.
So instead of trying to find the right words again, I decide to give up once and for all and accept the fact that some things are better left unsaid, some things are better left unexplained, and some things are better kept all to myself as much as it hurts me not to be able to share them with her.
“Not too much longer,” Alex says after a few minutes of silence.
“A few weeks at most.”
I look at her and smile because I know she’s right about this too.
We might not be able to put into words how great it was today, but it won’t matter once we’re back out there in a few weeks for the big competition that will bring us here again.
We’ll have our boards in our hands, the ocean at our feet, and the sun on our faces, and none of this will matter at all because we’ll be out there doing it all over again instead of talking about it.
It makes me happy just thinking about it, knowing that we’ll be back out there soon doing what we love most in the world together again.
“I wish I could take you with me,” I say, “so you could see it all for yourself.”
“I wish you could too,” Alex says with a smile as I take her hand in mine.
We sit there together, watching the waves roll in as the sun sets, knowing that we’ll be back out there soon enough doing what we love most in the world, but for now, we’re just happy to be here together, talking about it instead of doing it, not because we want to, but because we have no other choice.
I sit back against the hood of my car, watching the sun set with my best friend, listening to the sound of the waves and feeling the cool breeze on my skin, knowing that we’ll be back out there soon enough, but for now, I’m happy just being here with her, talking about it instead of doing it because we have no other choice.
It seems like I’ve been here before, doing this exact same thing with her, sitting on the hood of my car watching the sun set after a long day of surfing while trying to figure out a way to put into words how great it was out there today, but I guess I probably didn’t because I know I would’ve remembered if I had because this is one of those things that you don’t forget.
For most people, surfing is just another activity that they do for fun because they like being in the water, but for me and Alex, it’s so much more than that, just like rock climbing is too, which is why we always find ourselves at a loss for words when we try to explain what it was like out there today or last time or any time at all because we can never really capture it all, no matter how hard we try.
We can try, but we’ll never be able to do it justice no matter what we say or how we say it because some things are better left unsaid, some things are better left unexplained, some things are better kept all to ourselves no matter how much it hurts us not to be able share them with others.
Liam says when he joins us a few minutes later, but I know that he does too even if he doesn’t say anything.
I don’t know how many times I’ve said those exact same words since I started climbing, but they’re always true, even if you don’t want them to be.
I’ve been trying to explain things for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been able to figure out how, and I probably never will because some things are better off not being explained.
It’s like trying to describe what an orgasm feels like or what a rainbow looks like or what ice cream tastes like, you can try and you can try and you can try, but you’ll never be able to describe it perfectly, you’ll never be able to convey exactly what it’s like, and you’ll never be able to make someone else feel the same way you do when you think about it, when you talk about it, when you dream about it.
And some things, like today, are so much better than orgasms and rainbows and ice cream, but they’re also a lot more difficult for people who haven’t done them before or who don’t understand them or who don’t appreciate them for what they really are for some reason, which is why we’re always at a loss for words when we try to explain what happened or how it felt or why we did what we did.
And today was one of those days.
I say, not even sure how to begin because there’s so much that I want to say and so much that I need to say, but I know that there’s no possible way that I’ll be able to remember all of it right now.
I need those glasses, I say before she has a chance to answer.
Then everything will finally make sense.
We’ll finally be able to explain everything.
I know that won’t make a difference, but I keep saying it anyway because maybe if I say it enough times then I’ll start believing that it’s true, even though I know that I won’t.
There’s no possible way that I’ll ever be able to explain what rock climbing is like after a long day of climbing, especially today, without being there myself or without having those glasses on my face because there are some things—like getting rained on while you’re hanging by your fingertips from a rock in the middle of nowhere—that just can’t be explained any other way than by experiencing them.
I can try to explain what happened or what I saw or what I heard or what I felt or what I smelled, but I’ll never be able to do the whole thing justice because I’ll never be able to explain how everything came together perfectly in the end no matter how hard I tried or how hard I tried to believe that I could.
I’ll always be missing something.
I’ll always be leaving something out.
I’ll always be at a loss for words.
But then I have an idea.
Then I know that I have a chance to say everything that needs to be said before it’s too late.
Then I know that we finally have an opportunity to explain everything.
I say to her and Liam, both of them looking at me with their mouths hanging open, both of them listening to what I have to say as if their lives depended on it.
Imagine being able to record everything that happens on a climb or a hike or a surf or a ski and not just the sights but the sounds and the feelings and the scents too, imagine being able to put everything back together again after you’ve finished recording and relive everything exactly the way that it happened so that everyone else can see what you saw and hear what you heard and feel what you felt and smell what you smelled over and over again.
Imagine being able to relive your climb over and over again after you’ve finished recording so that everyone else can see what rock climbing is like from start to finish for themselves instead of just taking your word for it or instead of trying to come up with their own explanation on their own because they think that they know what rock climbing is like even though they don’t.
I ask them, not sure if I’m explaining myself well enough or if they’re understanding what I’m trying to say.
If we had those glasses on today or if we had them before or if we had them tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, then maybe that would be enough.
Then maybe that would help.
Maybe then we’d finally have a chance to explain everything.
Maybe then more people would understand what rock climbing is like.
Or hiking and skiing and surfing.
Or anything else that happens outdoors.
Or anything else that happens in general.
Instead of just listening to us talk about what rock climbing feels like or watching us climb a wall for themselves, they’d be able to actually see us climb from start to finish without missing anything at all.
And then they’d know.
And then they’d understand.
And then they’d see what rock climbing really is like with their very own eyes.
I ask them, not sure if they understand how important this is or how amazing this is or how exciting this is, but knowing that the moment that they do will change everything forever.
Because nothing will ever be the same again from now on once they know that it’s finally possible, and I’m not sure that we’re ready for that, but we don’t have a choice now, do we?
I ask her and Liam, both of them looking at me like I’m crazy, but both of them finally understanding what I’ve been trying so hard to explain and finally believing that it’s true and that it’s possible and that it’s finally time, but not sure how to respond or how to explain what they think or how they feel about it or how they think that it will change everything forever even though they know that it won’t, just like me, even though they hope that it will too, just like me, even though they wish that it will and that it won’t and that it might and that it might not, just like me.
I say as she looks at Liam and he looks at me and I look at Alex and we all know what each other are thinking before the other one even says a word because we’ve been thinking the same thing all along anyway.
I ask Alex and Liam, both of them looking at me like they already know the answer, but wanting me to answer anyway so that they know for sure instead of just guessing and hoping and praying that everything will work out the way that they hope so hard that it will or the way that they think it might now.
Because there’s no way of knowing either way unless someone asks the question first and someone answers it honestly and truthfully without holding anything back or leaving anything out because there’s no way of knowing either way unless someone says something first so that everyone else knows what the answer is once and for all.
