Why Slowing Down With an Old Friend Is Its Own Kind of Adventure
Five days and seventy-two miles gave my best friend Michael Whalen and me something I didn't fully anticipate when I first pitched this circumnavigation of Lake Tahoe, uninterrupted time together in a way that adult life rarely allows for anymore. Here's what reconnecting with someone you've known for years actually looks like when you give it that much space.
Why Adult Friendships Rarely Get This Kind of Time
Most adult friendships, mine included, run on a schedule of brief check-ins, quick calls, occasional dinners, rarely enough sustained time to reach the kind of conversation that happens after several days of shared physical difficulty. Work, family responsibilities, and simple distance tend to crowd out the extended, uninterrupted time that this trip forced into both of our schedules whether we'd planned for it consciously or not.
What Changed by Simply Being Together That Long
By our third night at Banzai Rock, the conversation between Michael and me had shifted into something neither of us typically reaches in ordinary life, not because either of us was withholding before, but because ordinary life rarely creates the specific conditions, physical fatigue removing the energy to perform, shared difficulty already building trust, that made that kind of conversation possible. Five days gave us room to arrive somewhere a single dinner or phone call never could have reached.
Why the Physical Demand Mattered as Much as the Time Itself
It wasn't just time together that produced this shift, it was demanding time together, requiring real physical effort and genuine shared problem-solving. A comfortable, easy trip with the same amount of time might not have produced the same depth of reconnection. There's something about facing real difficulty side by side that accelerates trust and honesty in a way that comfort alone doesn't replicate.
What This Looked Like Day to Day
The reconnection wasn't a single dramatic moment, it built gradually across small, ordinary interactions, jokes on the water, quiet stretches of paddling with nothing needing to be said, meals shared at camp each evening. By the time we reached the more emotionally significant conversations later in the trip, we'd already rebuilt a kind of easy rapport that made those deeper exchanges feel natural rather than forced.
Why This Kind of Adventure Doesn't Require Extreme Difficulty
While our trip happened to be physically demanding, seventy-two miles of paddling with real risk built into some crossings, the core principle, extended uninterrupted time plus some shared challenge, could apply to less extreme versions of the same idea. A multi-day hiking trip, a long road trip with real logistics to manage together, any format that removes the easy escape routes of ordinary busy life could produce something similar, even without the specific demands our route placed on us.
What I'd Tell Someone Considering a Similar Trip With an Old Friend
If you have a friendship you value that's been reduced to occasional, brief contact by the demands of adult life, consider building something like this deliberately, extended time, some genuine shared challenge, enough days that you move past the surface-level catching up and into something deeper. The investment of time feels significant to schedule, but the return, at least in our case, was worth far more than the days it cost either of us.
What Kristin Noticed About Us After the Trip
My partner Kristin mentioned afterward that Michael and I seemed different together in the weeks following the trip, more at ease, quicker to fall into old rhythms and inside jokes that had faded somewhat over the years of infrequent contact. That outside observation confirmed something we'd both felt but hadn't fully articulated, the trip had genuinely shifted something in how we related to each other, not just produced a shared memory to look back on.
Why I'd Encourage Anyone With a Similar Friendship to Actually Do This
It's easy to talk about wanting more time with an old friend without ever actually building it into your calendar. This trip forced the issue in a way that good intentions alone never had for either of us across the years since college. If you have a friendship you keep meaning to invest more time in, I'd encourage building an actual trip around it, with real dates and real commitment, rather than continuing to hope the opportunity presents itself on its own.
What This Trip Changed About How I Prioritize My Own Time
Since 72 Miles of Blue, I've become more deliberate about protecting time for relationships like this one, treating extended, uninterrupted time with people who matter as a genuine priority rather than something to schedule around everything else once the calendar allows for it. That shift in prioritization has been one of the more lasting personal changes to come out of this entire project, separate from anything related to the professional or creative outcomes.
What This Means for How I Think About Future Trips
Every expedition I plan going forward now gets evaluated partly on this dimension, not just what it will produce professionally, but who I'll be spending that time with and what the trip might do for that specific relationship. That's a new lens I didn't fully have before 72 Miles of Blue, and it's genuinely changed how I think about which future projects are actually worth pursuing versus which ones simply look good on paper.
The Bottom Line on This Kind of Adventure
Extended, uninterrupted time with someone who matters is its own reward, separate from whatever physical accomplishment happens alongside it. If you have the chance to build that time deliberately, take it, because the calendar rarely offers it up on its own without some real intention behind making it happen.
What I'd Say to Someone Hesitant to Ask for This Kind of Time
Asking someone to give up five full days can feel like an unreasonable request, especially when everyone's life feels equally busy and complicated. What I've learned is that most people, when asked sincerely about something that genuinely matters, find more room in their schedule than either of you initially assumed was there.
Before You Close This Tab
What does reconnecting with someone you've known for years look like for you when you give it five full, uninterrupted days, based on your own experience or what you imagine it might be like?
Do you have a friendship reduced to brief, occasional contact that might benefit from this kind of deliberate, extended time together?
Would a physically demanding shared challenge accelerate reconnection for you, or would comfortable extended time alone be enough?
What format, beyond a physically demanding expedition, could give you and an old friend this same kind of uninterrupted space?
Dalton Johnson is a photographer, filmmaker, and brand storyteller based in South Lake Tahoe, California. Over the past decade he has worked with brands including Patagonia, GoPro, Arc'teryx, Four Seasons, Nike, Rivian, and Ford Bronco across all seven continents. He is the creator of the Follow The Journey distribution framework, which has produced over one million organic views per 30-day cycle without paid media. His work includes two published books, an award-winning documentary that aired on PBS, and more than fifty commercial spots directed. He runs Stories by Dalton on Substack, read by more than 34,000 subscribers.