Hey {{first_name | Explorer}},

This is Adventure Fix, the newsletter that helps you discover extraordinary journeys and experiences across the globe.

For this final issue, I wanted to share something a little more personal. Instead of highlighting destinations or new trips, I’m sharing three moments from my own travels that shaped the way I see adventure, nature, and why we seek out the unfamiliar.

At the end of this issue, you’ll find a note about why Adventure Fix is coming to a close, and what’s next from here.

Here’s what’s inside today:

• An orca swimming beneath my kayak
• Sleeping under the stars in Antarctica
• A close encounter with giant mantas in the Revillagigedo Islands

“Look straight on!” my husband called from behind me in our double kayak.

An orca leapt out of the water. And then another. And another. Three, maybe four, powerful black-and-white shapes slicing through the sea. My heart raced as I tracked their dorsal fins, and somewhere deep inside, my 7-year-old self was screaming with joy.

As a child, I had been obsessed with orcas. I watched Free Willy on repeat, drew orcas in every notebook, and collected figurines, dreaming of the day I might see one in the wild. Growing up in a suburban town in Northern California, the odds of spotting an orca outside of captivity were slim.

But now, years later, I was here in the San Juan Islands, living my dream.

The orcas came closer, then one breached and dove directly under our kayak. She rolled to her side, and our eyes met. For a suspended moment, the world fell away—the ocean, the kayak, the hum of the distant shore—until there was just us. I felt awe, humility, and an overwhelming sense of connection. It was wild, it was intimate, and it was exactly what I had imagined, and more.

That encounter didn’t just check a childhood dream off my list; it reminded me why I chase adventure. There’s a rare magic in stepping into the unknown, in connecting with life that is completely untamed. That day, I fell even more in love with seeing wildlife—not just for the thrill, but for the moments that leave you feeling alive and infinitely grateful.

I remember lying there, unable to sleep. We were camping on a stretch of Antarctic coastline, wrapped in heavy bags on bare snow. My face was so cold it almost felt warm, the kind of numb that settles in slowly and stays.

There were no lights. No buildings. No boats. No horizon of cities glowing somewhere in the distance. Just stars, sharp and bright, like someone had emptied a bucket of light across the sky.

And it was silent. Not quiet. Silent in a way I had never experienced before.

I realized I was hearing real silence for the first time in my life. There was no wind, no water movement, no distant hum of anything human. Just the faint ringing of my own ears. The sound of nothing.

In that silence, something in me unwound. All the background noise I didn’t even know I carried — the planning, the pushing, the subtle reaching for the next thing — just fell away. For a moment, I felt like I wasn’t thinking myself into existence. I was simply there. A part of the world instead of separate from it.

Nothing mattered, and somehow, everything did. Not the anxious kind of nothingness, but the peaceful kind — the kind where you remember that you don’t have to hold the world together. It will spin just fine without your effort.

I didn’t sleep that night. I didn’t want to.

The stillness was the experience.

That night taught me that adventure isn’t always about movement. Sometimes it unfolds in stillness, when the world goes so quiet that you can finally notice the awareness behind every thought. In that silence, I experienced myself not as the one striving or steering, but as the one observing. A presence that doesn’t begin or end. A knowing that has been there all along.

Out in Mexico’s Revillagigedo Islands, the ocean feels bigger than usual. The water is this deep, endless blue, and you drop into it knowing you’re in their world, not yours.

On one of the dives, I looked up and saw a shape gliding above me. A manta ray. Huge. Effortless. The sunlight filtered down through the surface, turning everything into layers of blue and light. The manta didn’t flap its wings. It just moved, like the water itself was carrying it.

It hovered right over me. I could see the spots on its belly. My bubbles floated up and touched it. Our dive guide told us they like that — that they sometimes seek it out. It felt strange at first to think my presence could affect a creature that big. But there it was, staying with me, as if we were sharing something.

The same guide had said, “They can sense your energy. If you’re anxious, they stay away. If you’re calm, they’ll come closer.” I don’t know if that’s scientifically true, but I believed him. So when the manta came in again, slow and close, I tried to think good thoughts. Steady ones. I remembered how in Peter Pan, they say you need happy thoughts to fly. So I tried that. I just thought: I’m grateful to be here.

Another manta moved in beside us, and suddenly I was surrounded by these massive wings drifting through the water like slow-motion birds. Swimming next to one felt simple. Natural. Like we were sharing the same pace for a moment.

There wasn’t awe or adrenaline — just a very quiet kind of connection. One of those rare moments when you forget to want anything. You’re just there.

For a moment, everything felt simple. Just the rhythm of my breath. The sweep of their wings. The sunlight. The ocean. Life reduced to its most elegant state.

And that’s the magic, I think — the reason we chase experiences like this. Not for the adrenaline. Not for the photos. But to remember how to be in the world. Curious. Open to unexpected joy. Available to wonder.

Adventure Fix has been a joy to create. Every week, I’ve loved sharing places that spark awe, encounters that stay with you, and the feeling of stepping into the world guided by curiosity. Thank you for letting me share my love of wild animals and wild places with you.

So why end it now?

It simply feels like the right moment. Not because the adventures have run out — they never do — but because I’ve reached a point where it feels right to shift direction. There are still countless experiences worth writing about, but some projects have a natural lifespan. And this one has run its course.

Which brings me to what’s next.

After three unforgettable years of publishing Adventure Fix, it’s time for a new chapter. We’re building something for this same community of explorers: GearSnag. It’s an adventure-focused app that helps you find premium outdoor gear for less — Patagonia, Arc’teryx, Salomon, and more. If Adventure Fix helped you discover where you might go next, GearSnag helps you gear up to get there.

It’s still about getting outside. It’s still about building a life shaped by exploration. Just in a new form.

Over the next few days I’ll tell you a bit more about the app if you are interested. If it’s not for you, I understand, you can hit the unsubscribe button at the end of this email to opt-out.

Thank you for reading.
For dreaming alongside me.
For believing in a world that is still full of wonder.

The newsletter ends here, but the spirit behind it doesn’t.

Adventure is not something you subscribe to.
It’s something you choose.

I hope you keep choosing it.
I know I will.

Keep exploring,

-Amanda