This is 40: Summiting Kilimanjaro, Learning on Safari, and Recharging in an Overwater Bungalow

Growing up, I remember seeing adults turn 40. It was always a huge milestone marked with black balloons, "over the hill" decorations, and R.I.P. tombstones on birthday cakes. As a six-year-old, it seemed as if turning 40 was a sure sign that life was over.

Yet here I am, and I definitely don't feel like I'm on death's doorstep. In fact, I don't feel any type of way about turning 40 at all, and the only hill I've ever felt "over" are the ones I've climbed up and am headed back down. I feel strong, healthy, and grateful to run a business that gives me freedom with my time and location, plus the financial stability to keep doing the things I love most.

Even though turning 40 didn't feel like a near-death experience, or even a milestone for that matter, I definitely went all out for it. But that's probably because I've gone big for every birthday since I turned 15 (big Leo energy here). For the past 25 years, I've spent August 10th in a new place, celebrating myself and whatever phase of life I'm in by doing something I've never done before—throwing a rager on a New York City rooftop, sky diving in Ireland, watching lava flow in Hawaii, hiking Mt Rainier, and so on.

This year was no different. I wanted to celebrate turning 40 in a way that felt true to myself, while reminding me that I'm far from throwing in the towel on this thing called life. Following some of my most prioritized values (physical fitness, spending time outdoors, learning, and prioritizing rest) helped me plan an epic month-long celebration in East Africa, where I hiked Kilimanjaro, went on a photography safari in Kenya, and did absolutely nothing at an overwater bungalow in Zanzibar. Of course with that kind of itinerary, it didn't hurt that I'm also the one in charge of approving my OOO.

Summiting Mt Kilimanjaro

At 5,985 meters (19,341 feet), Mt Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain in Africa, and the highest freestanding mountain in the world. While the altitude is impressive, it's often considered the easiest of the Seven Summits (the highest mountains on each continent), since reaching the top doesn't require any technical mountaineering skills. The biggest challenge for most hikers is the altitude, since its effect on the body is kind of a crapshoot, and sometimes the only cure is to descend. Prior to Kili the highest I'd ever hiked was to the top of Mt Whitney (4,421 m/14,505 ft) in California, so I had no idea how my body would handle 19k+ feet. I'm happy to report that with the help of Diamox, acclimatization hikes, and a couple doses of Zofran and Ibuprofen, my body handled the altitude way better than I expected, with no major symptoms or trail-side vomiting.

Aside from it being my birthday, this was the first big hike I've done where I didn't have a deeper "why" for doing it. It was more like a "why not?" I love mountains, I love hiking, and I love training as a way to keep my fitness in check. I figured since I had the time, the funds, and the curiosity as to if I'd enjoy high-altitude hiking (spoiler alert: I do, very much), why not?

But the thing that initially put Kilimanjaro on my radar was hearing how much it meant to one of my most value-aligned clients, WHOA Travel. It's where they got their start over a decade ago, and it remains a pivotal experience for everyone on their team. Since I'm so deeply aligned with so many of their values (getting more women outdoors, working with local partners around the globe, using adventure as a tool for growth, protecting the environment and outdoor spaces, and so on) I figured I might have a similar experience. After years of writing about Kili and hearing dozens of inspiring women in their circle talk about summiting this mountain, I wanted to experience it for myself. It felt like a no-brainer when I saw they were headed up over my 40th birthday week.

Our trek took us up the Machame Route—a route designed for optimal acclimatization, and a glimpse of all five ecosystems on Kilimanjaro. It took us about six days up, two days down, and every single one of those days went as well as anyone could hope. We had perfect weather (seriously no rain or snow, and it wasn't nearly as cold as I thought it would be), only one night of wind, and sunny skies once we got up above the clouds. Probably a testament to my training, but I was surprised that even with a 40-year-old body I never really had to dig deep and push through any part of this hike. I was also surprised that the steep initial descent from summit (I'm a total uphill person) ended up being my favorite part of the hike. Turns out skiing down ankle-deep volcanic rock for thousands of feet is such a fun and efficient way to descend a mountain.

I don't always travel with groups, but there are some places and activities I prefer to experience with the safety and support of a guide or a group—like hiking above 19k feet for the first time. I'm so glad I came across a company who aligns with my values, because not only do I get to accomplish something awesome on their trips, I end up having an experience I can feel good about too. I know that the guides and porters they use are paid and treated fairly, and that they're making every effort to minimize our footprint on the environment too.

Learning Photography in Kenya

The decision to go on safari really was as simple as "I'm going to be in Africa, I might as well go on a safari." It's something I've wanted to do for years, and I finally knew how to use my camera well enough to justify it as an excuse to practice wildlife photography.

Outdoors photography became a serious passion of mine in 2015 while backpacking nearly six months through some of South America's most beautiful landscapes. But my first significant investment in growing my skills came last spring, when I booked a photography workshop in Lofoten, Norway. I learned more about landscape photography in that week than I had the previous decade of figuring it out on my own, so this year I decided to book another photography-focused trip.

At this point, my photography is still more of a hobby than a revenue generator. But it's just as important to me to invest in my hobbies as it is my professional skill set. Plus, my professional skills always improve as a side effect of pursuing my passions anyway, so it's a win win.

If you still live by the childhood lesson "don't talk to strangers," stop immediately. I stayed at Mara Major Camp thanks to a recommendation from a complete stranger on the internet, Ivan Glaser. Once I decided I'd visit Maasai Mara due to the timing of The Great Migration, I started reaching out to random photographers I found on Instagram asking if they could recommend any photography-specific camps. I didn't find exactly what I was looking for—a hands-on learning experience out in the field with an instructor and a group of amateur photographers—but I did find a photography-focused camp co-owned by another very talented hobby photographer, Christophe Dandurand.

From the second I arrived I received such a warm welcome from Christophe and his wife Sylvie. Since I was solo, they came with me on my first game drive, ate meals with me, and Christophe shared advice on how to edit photos quickly and shoot those shots even quicker.

Every day I set out with a Maasai guide named Saruni from sunrise to sunset. We'd bring a packed breakfast, coffee, and lunch to eat on the savanna while watching for animals.

Saruni was such a wonderful, insightful, skilled person to lead such an experience. Christophe called him "Eagle Eye," and it wasn't long into our adventure before I understood why. He could spot a lion laying on a rock from miles away, or a baby topi hiding in grass twice its height. I was constantly amazed by the off-road routes he took—steep muddy hills and waterways I thought were impossible to cross, and apparently so did other safari drivers as they wouldn't even attempt them. He told me his name means "helper," a name in which he definitely lives up to. Multiple drivers had to call on him to help pull their vehicles out of the mud, or test the waters before crossing a river.

As if his driving and animal-spotting skills weren't impressive enough, he also has a very photographic eye, so he always knew where and how to position the vehicle for the best lighting and the best shot. I really appreciated that while I was busy shooting with my camera, he'd grab my phone and snap photos and videos that actually turned out nice. I was so grateful he also loved spending every second of daylight (and then some) out in the field, even waiting for hours on end to see if the wildebeest would cross the river. Like Saruni says, so much of wildlife photography is about patience.

When we came back from our last drive, the woman who greeted us told me I was their "most interested guest" when it came to game drives. Most people go out for a few hours in the morning and maybe a few more in the evening. But we left camp at 5:45am every day (before sunrise) and returned close to 7pm (after sunset) each night. We took advantage of every second of sunlight, and some of my favorite moments and shots happened during midday. After all, I came all the way to Africa, and paid to have the luxury of surrounding myself with wild animals I don't get to see back home. Why wouldn't I spend every possible moment in that experience, especially since I had a guide who was down to do so? I figured I would catch up on sleep at the bungalow.

I am so glad I came across Mara Major because it had everything I was looking for. A comfortable glamping experience with delicious food. A place that wasn't run by a faceless corporation, but instead co-owned and operated by local Maasai people. An excellent location where wild animals roamed outside of the tents at night. And an opportunity to visit a local Maasai village and learn about their culture (another blog post to come). Plus, the chance to spend over 50 total hours watching and photographing animals I've never seen in the wild before. I'll never forget that feeling the first time I made eye contact with a lion.

Recharging at Isaraya Overwater Bungalows in Zanzibar

You know how people always say they need a vacation after their vacation? I guess when you're self-employed you can actually do that, and in retrospect that's exactly what I did.

I'd describe myself as a bougie dirtbag, meaning I love to indulge in luxury just as much as I love to go off-grid and skip showers for a week. As someone who's prone to burnout, I now make it a point to schedule intentional rest whenever possible. I knew that after three weeks of traveling, hiking, and bouncing around on all-day off-road safari drives, I’d benefit from some downtime before returning home. A place where I wouldn't have to cook, clean, unpack, or answer to any family obligations. So I booked four nights at the Isaraya Overwater Bungalows in Zanzibar to end my trip, where the only thing on my schedule was rotating between bathtub, plunge pool, and the ocean between calls to room service.

My favorite thing to do on a do-nothing vacation is to enjoy a slow, leisurely morning. I love coffee, I love breakfast, and I love doing absolutely nothing for hours on end, so this is my idea of heaven.

I started each day without an alarm, waking up only when my brain decided I was ready to (which happened minutes before sunrise, every day). I'd make a cup of coffee and sit on the deck to watch the sun rise over the sounds of the waves. I'd spend time thinking, reflecting, and processing what I'd just experienced the weeks prior. Then I'd go for breakfast or have it brought to my room, and enjoy an entire basket of pastries, a full plate of fresh fruit, whichever egg dish I was in the mood for, a liter of water, more coffee, and a fresh hibiscus + lime + ginger juice. This daily ritual took four hours, and was 100% guilt-free.

People kept asking if I wanted to organize an activity or excursion. As someone who's usual response is "when in Rome..." I had to keep reminding myself of the purpose of this portion of the trip. I'd been pushing myself hard all summer long—training, traveling, and staying almost constantly on-the-go. It was time to recover. Plus, I already had some big projects stacked on my plate upon my return home, and I knew I wouldn't be as prepared to tackle them if I kept pushing myself every single day (take note, advertising industry).

By giving myself this window of stillness at the end of my trip, I had time to process it all—what I experienced, what I accomplished, what it meant to me, and how I wanted to carry it forward in life. Don't get me wrong, I definitely still enjoyed some quality couch + Netflix + Taco Bell time when I came home. But once I started working again, I had the insight and mental clarity to solve a problem I've been working on for four years, in four hours.

A Parting Note From a New 40-Year-Old

If you're reading this and you're newly 40, approaching this new decade and feeling uneasy about the f-word, or maybe you're years beyond, I'll end on this.

Go climb mountains. Whether it's literal mountains or metaphorical ones, don't stagnate due to some arbitrary number. Keep moving, keep pushing yourself to be better, and keep going in whatever direction you please.

Invest in what you love. And do it unapologetically. You've likely spent your life making sacrifices and working hard to get to where you are. Don't forget to celebrate it and actually LIVE the life you've worked so hard to create. Take care of your responsibilities first and then go for it. Or as Donna Meagle and Tom Haverford would say, "treat yo' self."

Prioritize rest. It’s easy to get excited about the big goals and adventures, but recovery matters just as much. It's what makes those big peaks possible. Without it, those adventures start to feel an awful lot like burnout disguised as accomplishment. Ask me how I know.

And lastly, don't wait for a birthday or another milestone to celebrate yourself. Do it now. You're only 40, you're not dead.