It was on the lovely island of Santorini that things turned ugly.
There were hundreds of people coming off the cruise ship descending onto the volcanic Greek archipelago, hoping to come away with whatever it is travelers seek: transcendence, stories, selfies.
While many returned to the liner with goal fulfilled, a fair number were derailed at the gate. Their passport-approved, Eddie Bauer-outfitted selves were done in by one thing: Age.
They’d waited too long to embark on this journey and now nature would be the troll at the bridge, demanding more of them than they could provide. It takes energy, stamina and balance to get across the hundreds of cobblestone steps that lead to the white-washed walls and blue domes of Oia.
Those who fall short have to be satisfied with simply gazing at the destination from the parking lot.
Retirement can be the stuff dreams are made of, but it can also induce nightmares. A good tour guide will do her best to navigate the challenges but, in the end, to stand in the footsteps of ancestors, obstacles often must be overcome.
It is a cruel irony that the retirement you spend your life looking forward to, the one that gets you through the drudgery and anxiety of your working years, the prize that promises freedom and adventure, often greets you at the chapter’s start with restrictions and barriers and hours spent sitting on benches waiting for the more able-bodied in your group to return.
No one tells you when you’re 20 or even 50 that turning the corner on 60 often means embarking on a journey of decline. In your head, you’re still 12, with endless dreams and boundless curiosity. If only the rest of you could stop time as well.
To the agers who make a practice of exercising during the decades before retirement, and who fall on the lucky side of fate, often go the spoils of fulfillment. But, even for them, there are no guarantees their fitness will last a lifetime.
Travel, a long-anticipated goal of retirees and today somewhat of a peer pressure campaign thanks to social media, often becomes a process of elimination, as much about feasibility as it is about luggage choices.
If you cannot navigate a particular destination’s terrain, if you cannot endure long flights in small seats, if you cannot carry your own luggage up steps, if you cannot stomach new kinds of foods, and if you cannot go far without bringing anxiety and stress with you, your visit will be more about taking care than taking chances.
My husband and I are in pretty good shape for our age. We’ve walked every day for decades. But the streets of suburbia are very tame compared to the paths of antiquity. There were several moments on our recent trip from Greece to Venice that I felt my limitations were undermining my sense of adventure.
In the ancient town of Delphi, where the Temple and oracle of Apollo sits on the slope of Mount Parnassus, I panicked. It was raining. How would we negotiate steep slippery stone stairways that had no hard rails? How badly did I want to see the top, especially if it meant possibly becoming part of the ruins?
Visiting ancient sites, or perhaps any far-off destination, is not for the faint of heart. Long flights are exhausting because, as it turns out, only young people can sleep on a plane without waking up to a host of new cricks and pains.
Ancient ruins have stood the test of time because they are made of stone. Aging humans, on the other hand, are more like peanut brittle.
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We were fortunate that we didn’t fall but we watched many who did.
While in Athens, we hired a guide to drive us north to Meteora, a region where 15th century monasteries were built atop sky-high sandstone cliffs. The landscape was stunning and the fact that humans could construct such feats of engineering by hand further compelled us to at least endure a visit.
At one point, our driver stopped and pointed to a rounded, rocky area where we could stand at the edge and take selfies with several monasteries in the distance. No hand rails, no warnings, no assistance. The Grand Canyon can be treacherous, too, but at least there are signs warning that you are no match for what lies ahead.
We managed. But had we waited another year- or five- to visit, would we?
Time is not kind. That realization can be simultaneously motivating and alarming.
In the end, you take what you can. A sentiment, a memory, a photo that proves you were there. And, perhaps, you hold onto a snippet of pride at having stepped way outside your comfort zone and lived to tell about it.
Aging can be a cautionary tale. But, as with everything, there are those whose stories are all about throwing caution to the wind.
During lunch at an olive farm in Olympia, I sat next to a tiny, 80- year-old woman from New York.
She was traveling with her two daughters. They fretted over her, offering to refill her water glass or accompany her to the rest room.
“Do you need your sweater?” one asked.
The woman turned to me and rolled her eyes.
“How nice that they brought you here,” I said.
“What?” she retorted, “I brought them.”
She apparently travels all the time and was in London just months before.
You can go even though you’re old, she said.
“Or you can sit home and wait to get older.”
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at [email protected].