Alaska Invites Adventure

 

Climb deep into the forest,

but escape before darkness reigns.

 

Take just enough water which one requires, the forbidden water is all around you, tempting your dry pallet and thirsty joints.

 

Don’t be fooled by the trails end,

the forest that has fallen,

it’s beauty and adventure awaits you.

 

Forage through nature’s challenges and obstacles, as you will be rewarded at the end of your journey.

 

Don’t listen to the voices of doubt, fear, fatigue, pain.

 

Listen to the deep woods, the moving water, the unrecognizable sounds of animals,

the songs of birds.

 

Listen to the footsteps on the damp forest floor, a deep inhalation of new breath, a groan of inner strength to clear a wide step.

Listen to the call of a bear warning, so to not surprise the hairy beast.

 

Written 7/15/2008 on the airplane ride home from Alaska.

 

IT IS NOT A BIRD

Written Oct 8, 2011

 

Inspired by Adyashanti, a day at Spirit Rock Meditation Center

On my drive home from Spirit Rock, these are the things I saw, the words came so freely

 

It is not a bird

It is a hovering creature
instinctively swooping down to feast
solely for its own survival
to feed its existence

It is not a cow

It is a piece of flesh
grazing in its gated pasture
existing, but only to become one’s meal
at the end of its day

It is not fog

It is water droplets suspended in air
a visual backdrop
blanketing the sprawling hillside
 

It is not a deer

It is nature’s creature making common appearances
grazing or fleeing
in a state of panic or peace 

"The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing."
- Eric Berne

"THE ROOKIE"

Snow Camping February 2004

The seed was planted in my brain the day I read the newspaper article “Snowshoeing in the Park” by Associated Press reporter, Brian Skoloff, dated January 24, 2004. I read it as an invitation…a calling…a challenge. If Brian and his friends could do it, then I could do it. I wished that I had done it. I wished that I was there with Brian and his companions. They had accomplished their goal. They celebrated and documented their memories, they had succeeded. Collectively, they had the experience that I wanted.  

I had just turned 35 and I craved freedom and adventure. However, this trip was more than just that. It was my inaugural, mom scoring a ”hall pass” trip.  My son Landon was two years old and as much as I needed a weekend away, my husband Clinton and Landon needed a weekend of bonding together. 

Accompanying me on the trip was my exercise buddy and dear friend Moddie Stone and her sister Andya. We knew that in order to prepare for the trip we should be physically fit and be equipped with a warm sleeping bag. I made my first outdoor gear purchase online, a cozy over-weight, bargain priced sleeping bag. The rest of our gear we borrowed or rented; self-inflating pads, a tent and backpacks.

We stayed with my sister Friday night in Moccasin, a small town nestled below the vast Yosemite wonderland. My Dad, who lives close by made a visit to do a pack check. He looked at our loads and shook his head in silence. I knew he was thinking we were inexperienced and underprepared.  I knew he was right but I felt we were prepared enough.   

We headed for Yosemite National Park Saturday a.m., destination – Crane Flat trail head. It was a crisp sunny day. We fastened on our snowshoes, loaded our packs and headed up the road. The snow was deep so to expend less energy we trekked through the already made cross-country tracks, which we later learned was improper trail etiquette (lesson one). Eventually we lost the ski tracks and would then trade off with the strenuous task of “breaking trail”.

Onward and upward we trekked. Hours went by and the big questioned entered our minds and muscles, when will we reach our destination?!? I begin to silently scope out an alternative camp. We were fenced in by forest on both sides and my rookie instincts told me to not set up camp in the trees. Not to mention I was completely obsessed with reaching our destination.

Daylight was dwindling and a decision needed to be made, leadership was necessary at this critical moment. “Just to the top of that crest” I proclaimed. “If it’s not there then we’ll set up camp amongst the trees.” Just as I made my statement with dire disappointment, some skiers descended from the crest above us. Our trail angels made their appearance, and just in the nick of time. They brought great news that our meadow was just over the crest, waiting for our arrival. WE MADE IT! The meadow was ours; we had it all to ourselves. I suddenly felt exposed.

We set up our tent, relieved to get inside after post holing into the snow. We snuggled into our sleeping bags and nestled on our flat “self-inflating” pads. Minimal backpacking at its finest, no stove, no cooking. We feasted on cold pizza, a culinary delicacy when you are out in the wilderness.

The ground was painfully hard and our summer tent could hardly deflect the harsh freezing environment living outside (and inside) our tent. After a few sips of bourbon mixed with laughter, we tossed and turned in unison until glimpses of sun shined through our snowy crystalized tent. We had survived the night! In silence we backed up and headed down the trail as quickly as our snowshoes would take us. We stopped for a breakfast break only to find that our drinking water froze, our cliff bars were rock hard, and our bananas had turned black. How we craved a hot beverage and an edible meal. Within two hours we were headed back to civilization.

Even with all the mistakes we made, our trip was still a success and it was definitely a learning experience. We knew how to better prepare for the next trip.  Speaking of next trip…”where to next ladies?”

And so the seed had flourished, into a deep passion for adventure.

  

       Mountain Meditation

I reach the base of the mountain. I look up and whisper, “I am here, show me the way.” I’ve hiked these trails a hundred times, sometimes with no destination in mind. Today I go where the mountain leads me. I climb, settling into a rhythm. With each step my worries lessen and my tensions release. I am in the moment. I notice nature’s gifts all around me. A snake’s intricate tracks wind and turn across the trail. A bird flies overhead, the breed unrecognizable and undeniably magnificent. The tall, dry blades of grass crackle as the wind sweeps through them, causing me to pause as I take in nature’s sweet music.

I merge onto a familiar unmarked trail. I feel like I’m floating as the fresh air consumes me. I climb to a rock, its surface is rough and jagged except where I choose to rest.  Perched on the ledge, the hills above and below, I watch the fog mystically fade away. I close my eyes and hear birds calling out and bugs buzzing by. The sun comforts me, the breeze awakens me. I am still, if only for a moment. I am still.

Written 9/26/2012 while hiking Mt. Burdell

MT. ROSE

Climbed 9/9/2012, Lake Tahoe, Elevation 10,776

Rose - such a delicate word. She smells sweet and poses in feminine hues such as pink and lavender. She wears bold red and has a hearty stalk with prickly thorns and her roots are grounded deep into the earth.

Mt. Rose appears to be sweet and draws you in deeper with her friendly forest, fragrant meadow and tantalizing waterfall.

As you skirt the meadows edge you’ll savor her flourishing wildflowers. The sun rises and casts a fiery glow upon the rocks and trees, radiating warmth and energy which fuels your body to climb higher. The sun shines upon Rose and she appears to come alive in the early dawn.

You approach a steep climb and work your way through unknown territory surrounded by a dwarf forest. I felt alone on this unfamiliar trail but I never felt lonely, because on this day, I was meant to be alone. Rose was calling and I couldn’t wait to see what was around the next turn or what was over the next crest.

 

The terrain began to change from Sierra heaven, to a volcanic hell then back to heaven again.  How can a Rose so delicate and so visually serene be so complex? She is nature and nature is alive and has a force greater than what we sometimes expect to meet.

We are tested by nature, we are challenged, sometimes we are chosen. Not everyone will meet Rose. Some will pause, some will halt, many will abort with no regret and with complete satisfaction.

Rose only knows those who greet her at her peak.

Written 9/15/2012