February 27, 2026
Cabo San Lucas, Baja

I’m in Baja.

The light is softer here. The air warmer. My bones ? Well since they have known more ice than sand- are happy and thawing.

In two days, on March 1st, I begin a kayak journey with Wild Women Expeditions. It is entirely organized. I don’t have to plan routes, study tide charts, pack dehydrated meals, or haul gear. I simply have to shed a few layers and show up.

That alone feels revolutionary. Usually, I’m the one organizing or leading or holding the logistics and the responsibility. This time, I am allowing myself to be held. And I chose this trip as an early celebration of my 65th birthday on March 17th - a conscious warming of body and spirit.

When I signed up, I knew I had to invite Jill.

Jill - whom I met in Antarctica of all places, kite skiing across Antarctica like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jill - now a mother to ten-year-old Markus and married to the amazing Simon (I still remember their wedding in Tofino, the ocean bearing witness). Like so many of us, she doesn’t get enough time away. Not the kind that truly refills the tank. Not the kind that stokes curiosity and reignites the flame of risk and adventure.

She flies in tomorrow. The night before we launch. And then, on March 3rd, there will be a full moon.

There has to be some kind of synchronicity in that. Right?

Siblings on Catalina Island. Sunniva, Kris, Bettina “friends for life”

The Last Time I Was in Baja

The last time I paddled the Sea of Cortez was decades ago with my dear friend Jeff Cooper.

We set out to cross from Bahía de los Ángeles to Isla Salsipuedes — a long, committing stretch of water he had attempted twice before and never completed for various reasons not of his doing. When he asked me to join, I said yes, not fully understanding what I was stepping into.

That seems to have been a theme in my life- saying yes!

We hauled everything ourselves. Caught fish for food. Read Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage when currents and eddies pinned us down. There was tequila. Beer. Lobster. Photography. So much laughter. Possibly more fun than two adventure buddies were meant to have.

We had met at Adventure 16 — that magical incubator of competence and community. Under Jeff’s Wilderness Outing Program, I learned to rock climb, backpack, teach map and compass. I learned I was capable. That I could lead. That I could belong in wild places not as an imposter, but as someone meant to be there.

Adventure 16 wasn’t just a store. It was a tribe. We were colleagues and the tribe! And one of the brightest lights was Teresa.

‍ ‍ Perhaps no introductions needed? Anne, Kenji, Sunniva, Jeff “ skinning up” Sierra High Route

Teresa — and the Quiet Heroism of Living On

Twenty years ago, on March 4th, Jeff was studying for his nursing boards when he got a call from Rebecca Rusch (who we hosted on Pioneers of the Possible) Teresa — climber, friend, force of nature — had broken her neck in a ski accident.

Teresa became a quadriplegic that day. In an instant, the terrain of her life changed from summits and ski lines to ventilators, wheelchairs, and caregivers.

But Teresa did not disappear. She endured. Big time.

What followed was not just survival — it was decades of courage. Of learning how to inhabit a body that no longer responded as it once had. Of relying on others for the most basic needs. Of respiratory battles and hospital visits. Of vulnerability most of us will never fully understand.

Caregivers are lifelines. They are extraordinary. But the greater mountain, I have always believed, was Teresa’s.

To wake up every day in a compromised body and still choose presence. To accept help. To keep relationships alive. To allow yourself to be seen not for what you can do, but for who you are.

There is a quiet heroism in that kind of living.

At 2:30 a.m. this morning, February 27th, Teresa passed away after complications from pneumonia.

Deborah texted: Can you call me? It’s about Teresa. I knew before she said the words.

We cried together.

Teresa was the only one who acknowledged Deborah’s and my union back in the early 1990s in Anza-Borrego — when two women uniting was not widely accepted or celebrated. She saw us. She affirmed us. She honored our love without hesitation. That kind of witnessing changes you forever.

She will always be off-the-charts special.

And today, I am thinking not only of Teresa — but of all those living in compromised bodies. Those navigating spinal cord injuries, chronic illness, degenerative disease. Those who require assistance to move, breathe, or live. Their expeditions are no less bold. Their summits no less real.

Some of the bravest journeys do not cross oceans.

They cross mornings.

Teresa Hukari… an indestructible spirit -with a smile that has travelled across borders, hearts and minds..

Why I Thought I Was Here

And Why I Really Am

I thought I came to Baja to celebrate my birthday.

To warm up.

To align more deeply with Wild Women Expeditions — a company whose values I respect and resonate with deeply, and with whom I will co-host in Svalbard this June.

I thought I came to kayak under a full moon and laugh with Jill and let someone else hold the map.

But now I understand. I am here to mark a full circle.

To honor Jeff — who recently gifted me Free Ride, inspired by Itchy Boots, reminding me that adventure has no expiration date. To honor the younger version of myself who said yes to crossings she didn’t fully understand.

To honor Teresa — whose accident happened on March 4th, the very date I will be deep into this new kayak journey.

I brought Endurance again. I brought Free Ride. I brought memory.

The lines of latitude and longitude of my life are converging here — like spokes on a wheel — in Baja.

Adventure 16. Antarctica. Tofino. Svalbard. Isla Salsipuedes. Teresa. Jill. Jeff. Deborah. Geoff/Sandy. Johnny (RIP)

Friendship is the true expedition. We measure life in crossings, but what we are really crossing toward is one another.

Under the Full Moon

On March 3rd, under this Baja full moon, I paddle for Teresa — and for every brave soul learning to live fiercely inside a body that asks more of them than most of us will ever know.

I will paddle for the tribe that shaped me.

I will give thanks for the women beside me — wild, busy, loving, stretched thin, showing up anyway.

And I will remember that sometimes we think we are traveling to warm our bones…

When in truth, we are traveling to tend the fire of friendship. So here I go…..

xx Sunniva