Career, interrupted

In 2020, I regaled you with a tale of all the work we did not do. To this eternal optimist’s disbelief, pandemic ripple effects continued to affect our working lives well into 2021. And so today I’d like to pick up again where the previous story left off.

You may already know that we were pandemic refugees from China in early 2020. In the first year of the pandemic, we almost made money in Saudi and very nearly had a far-flung adventure in Fiji. But those jobs, plus a handful of others, were canceled by covid.

A photograph of the author, in an orange shirt and black shorts, looking out over a redwood-filled valley. Her back is to the camera as she surveys her literal and metaphorical future.
“What will this day be like? I wonder. What will my future be? I wonder…”

In spring 2021, we continued to search for new opportunities abroad. What follows is a summary of how that worked out in the second year of the pandemic, and how we pivoted to adapt.

Taiwan

This is the last one that got away. Amid all the job postings we’d seen in a year and a half of searching, this one stood out. It was a plum opportunity: the work was with an international school, the Buddhist mission statement was aligned with our values, the location was in a scenic mountain area, the positions were a perfect fit to our skills and interests, the salary was better than fair, and the institute would support our continuing education.

It seemed like a dream come true, and we were prepared to fight for it! We even went so far as to make an elective video describing exactly why we were the perfect candidates for the positions. Several serious interviews with the institute only made us covet the job more!

An official race photograph from the 2019 Seoul 100k, in which the author grins up toward the photographer as she ascends a steep stone staircase with the aid of twin poles.
That time we were temporally closest to Taiwan: October 2019. We were actually registered to run a race in Taiwan, but wound up falling for this race in South Korea, held on the same weekend, instead…

To our utter delight, they hired us! So enthused were we that we didn’t even balk at signing a three-year contract. We were headed to a brand new country – with a brand new 100 summits challenge! With a job like this one, and a new countryside to explore completely, even I felt ready for this level of commitment.

But, you guessed it, we never made it to Taiwan. When we signed our contracts in May 2021, the pandemic had scarcely touched Taiwan. That was all about to change.

In the span of one month, we went from complete certainty that we were moving to Taiwan to complete certainty that we weren’t. Case counts skyrocketed, making international news, and the country clamped down its borders. Visa offices closed and our plans, once again, were in limbo.

The author and her husband stand in front of the tropical-looking waters of Taketomi Island in Japan. Somewhere, across the sea behind them, is Taiwan...
That time we were proximally closest to Taiwan: Taketomi Island, Japan. After running Izu 70k in December 2019, we headed to Japan’s tropical southern isles. Here on Taketomi, we were less than 300 kilometers away from Taiwan!

It was a last-straw event for both Kent and I. For Kent on a more permanent basis, and for me for a good, long while. The school didn’t actually cancel our contracts: in the end, that was us. But we couldn’t stomach more delays and uncertainty. At some point, you have to move on.

Summer in the States

Contract work to committed worker

As the sun set on our dreams of moving to Taiwan, in California, a new dawn was approaching for Kent. For the better part of the previous year, he’d been working in data on a casual, part-time contract that accommodated school and our adventurous lifestyle. In the summer of 2021, he agreed to become a full-time employee at his company.

It was a seismic shift for us. We’ve always done the same work and shared the same career goals. Making such a big change seemed scary. But what could we do? The world altered around us, and we had to adapt.

I’m so glad we were able to switch tracks, because Kent’s new gig has been nothing but good for him. He loves what he does, and gets to explore one of his many interests. Ultimately, it was such a positive change for him, and I’m so proud to see him successful and happy in his new role!

A photograph of Kent, sitting at a table in the sand under a large tree. He's got his laptop out and is focused on his work, with a coconut at hand for refreshment.

Plus, since he works remotely, we’ve been able to continue our semi-nomadic lifestyle! Sometimes there are compromises, but overall less course-altering changes than we initially expected.

Outdoor opportunities

As for me, I also shelved my dreams of returning to the classroom in the summer of 2021. Sure, I could have worked as a paraprofessional or volunteered at a local school – but my goal was never to teach stateside. And in truth? Hanging out inside all day, with or without covid, is not something I’m trying to do for free.

Playtime in my favorite state park

Instead, I set my sights on something totally new. I responded to a job on Craig’s List, of all places – still alive and active in Humboldt county! Shortly thereafter, I was buying a uniform and getting ready for my first day serving California State Parks!

I was incredibly stoked about this opportunity. Though neither lucrative nor demanding, this new role was a chance to get out and do something dramatically different. And the very best part? I would get to hang out in the redwoods of my favorite local park all day! Even my hour-long commute was exciting – it was my first!

I settled into life at Humboldt Redwoods pretty quickly, even moving into park housing! The park was busy in the summer months, and I was always on my feet. It was, literally and figuratively, a world apart from what I’ve done for a decade.

A selfie of the author, taken at a bend in the river in Humboldt Redwoods State Park. She's wearing the khaki t-shirt of the state park uniform.
Working in a wonderland

My role was seasonal, so I went into it knowing that it wouldn’t go on forever. But I was happy to enjoy it while it lasted. This job kept my adventure fund flush and filled my days with fun – but I kept my eyes open for my next option.

Home, home on the range

However, my state park gig wasn’t exactly how I envisioned working in the wilderness. My wildest dreams had me wondering about working as a park ranger. The law enforcement side of that job eventually dissuaded me from pursuing it, but I did wonder what other, similar roles and other public lands had to offer. Was my perfect fit out there somewhere?

It was, and I managed to find it thanks to a volunteer trail maintenance trip Kent and I took in June. We met some US Forest Service personnel during our experience, and found ourselves with a little side hustle: working as weekend wilderness rangers! We would be backpacking through the Trinity Alps Wilderness doing solitude monitoring, light trail work and talking to people about the Leave No Trace ethics.

A photograph of duo at a remote trailhead in the Trinity Alps Wilderness. The pair are about to set off on their first wilderness ranging gig - a trip that will also be their last in this role.
So stoked for this super summer gig!

Unbelievably, this was a paid position that both Kent and I could do. I would have happily done this for free – and indeed, I did, in the end. We’d found a new perfect job, and for a few blissful weeks, I thought I’d found a new niche in the world!

It was just bad luck that the very first trek we undertook in this new role was also our last. The final day of our one-and-only range was also the first day of a devastating wildfire; one that would go on to ravage Trinity county for the rest of the summer and well into the fall. Our jobs were over, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

I was as well and thoroughly crushed as I had been after our Taiwan, Saudi and Fiji failures – if not more so. Especially as time went on: my contact at the Forest Service HQ in Trinity departed for greener pastures, we did not get paid for our work, and our favorite wilderness was closed indefinitely. We didn’t give up easily: we called our contacts trying to maintain a connection for future years, and even offering to give up everything else to volunteer with the immediate fire effort. But, to no avail. This was another dream that I had to watch die in 2021.

Luckily, I still had my job at state parks, and I leaned into it heavily for the rest of the summer. But what would I do come fall?

Unexpected extension

Well, at first nothing changed at all! I was chosen to stay on at Humboldt Redwoods to close down my campground for the season – giving me over a month of additional work. When that eventually wrapped up, my kind-hearted employer called another state park a few hours north to recommended me.

And that’s how I found myself at Prairie Creek State Park – part of Redwood National Park! This was a great change of pace: despite featuring the same tall tree species and being just a hundred miles north of Humboldt Redwoods, Prairie Creek is completely different. HRSP tends to be hot in the summer, and PCSP is nearly always cool and damp. There was also lots to learn, as I had different duties at this park.

The author poses proudly with a state park truck in this candid snapshot from Prairie Creek State Park. Note the foggy atmosphere, clinging to the treetops - a common sight at this coastal park!
Among my regular duties: driving this parks truck!

Working at Prairie Creek in the fall was an unexpected bonus, and I loved getting to spend time at another one of my favorite places in NorCal. However, I’d been planning all along for my seasonal employment to end eventually. When it didn’t, I felt that familiar feeling of being stuck. Not necessarily in a bad way: I even considered staying with parks long term. It was tempting: it could have been a good life.

But all the old questions I’ve wrestled with about life in the States came up, and I still didn’t have any good answers. Where would we live – and how would we afford it? How would we run and explore together while working on opposite schedules? Shouldn’t I aspire to contribute in a more meaningful way or do more challenging work? Did I even really want to stay in the US?

When you’ve lived such a very lucky life as I have, I think it makes it hard to accept ‘good enough’. Life in the parks was pretty great, but I was looking for amazing. I was looking for a no-compromise solution. Guilty of wanting to have my cake and eat it, too: I wanted an interesting job, my own home, the freedom to travel and more racing. All at the same time. As usual, I wanted everything.

So I closed this chapter of my life. Much as I savored it, it was time for the next one.

Thailand

It was recruiting season for public school employees in Thailand again. This time, I decided, I wouldn’t be so picky. Any offer would be an opportunity, and I was determined to make the most of it. As luck would have it, I landed a gig in Bangkok, which is just where I wanted to start my next chapter!

Although the job wound up being a massive, sometimes demoralizing, challenge, change was just what I needed! I loved Bangkok from the moment I touched down, and slipped seamlessly back into the expat lifestyle I know well.

In this image, the author lounges in a unicorn pool toy. She floats in a blue pool overlooking a green bay. The land opposite her pool is a jungle that's greener still.
Oh yes.

This position was also critical for moving forward with my own education. Failing to go to Fiji in January had really derailed my timeline. I’d had to take a year-long leave from my credential program for lack of a practicum placement. Although I’d tried to figure out other options in the interim (see: above, and All the work we did not do), it was only with this job that I would, finally, be able to complete my studies.

This kept me going when times were tough at my Thai middle school. For the better part of a decade, I’d thought about going back to school for my credential. Once enrolled, it was frustrating to make it only half-way through the program because I didn’t have a teaching role. In Thailand, I was determined to get it done. Even if that meant pulling some 16-hour days on my laptop, oblivious to my tropical surrounds.

The author takes a break from a demanding schedule for a working selfie. She's seated in an outdoor courtyard, working on her laptop with her bagged lunch nearby. A school bus is parked behind her, and she wears a face mask.
Work is better outside!

I’m happy to close with the report that I did it! I fulfilled my contract, and I completed my program. I’m now a fully qualified teacher at last!


This tale of work both done and undone takes us to the spring of 2022. When I wrote All the work we did not do in early 2021, I was convinced, not for the first time, that all the turmoil was behind us. It’s a bit funny to look back and see how incredibly optimistic I’ve been throughout the pandemic about things returning to normalcy. Instead of a few months in limbo, like I once predicted, it wound up being nearly two years!

Kent and I are tremendously privileged to have these choices, and the freedom to pursue them. I’m grateful every day of my life. Our pandemic work and school struggles are not comparable to the great loss of life, lingering illness and educational setbacks the world faced during this era. For that, there are much better resources for you to read. This post is simply another slice of life for ya: a peek behind the curtain at the operations side of Peaks and Penguins.

A snapshot of the author. She turns to face the camera during a rugged descent from a mountain in northwestern Thailand. She's grinning because she's on a new adventure. Don't you?
Keep on keepin’ on…

Despite the world changing around me, I personally feel like I’ve changed very little. My wildly optimistic predictions about getting back to work, again and again, remind me that I didn’t succumb to cynicism during these tough times. Although I tried another path – and enjoyed it – in 2021, the experience reminded me of how much I still like my original, wide-ranging route. I’m forever inhabiting my 2016 self: I know what works, and what I want. I will continue to ramble on in search of it.