Whenever I run, as I begin a homeward direction, I break down the distance before me. I mentally delineate ‘home stretches’ according to land marks, bends in the road, anything really. Then, I chant to myself “I am on the home stretch of the home stretch”. Depending on the ground I have covered, I may keep track of as many as five ‘home stretches’, each subsequent section being shorter than the last.
This mantra policy carries over in my life. Right now I am on the ‘home stretch of the home stretch’s home stretch’; although perhaps ‘home’ is the wrong word. Two more weeks in Montana, four days in Chicago with the sister, tag down at home base and then a six am flight to San Diego is the ultimate objective of the current count-down.
This week I purchased two of my final ‘bit ticket’ items. I am now the proud owner of a Fujifilm camera which nestles nicely into a traveling soap dish. The controls are simple and the little guy seems pretty durable. It turns on quickly and runs on AA batteries. I purchased two, 4MB memory cards; one to hold current pictures while I mail the other one home for my parents to dump onto a computer, then we trade back. The chips’ 1000 picture capacity should allow for plenty of space.
I decided to support the mall industry with my shoe purchase. For starters, whoever thought it a brilliant plan to call their chain of shoe stores ‘Athlete’s Foot’ must not have thought it through all the way. Either way, the little fellow was very enthusiastic and knowledgeable about his wares. We found the lightest running shoe and I jaunted and hopped about the shop floor as he asked what might possess a girl to walk 2500 miles. He demonstrated a different way of tying the shoe so as to keep the heel from slipping and I do believe I will be quite happy with my Grid C2 Flash Sauconys. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say the weakest feature on these shoes is the adhesion of the soles to the material. Most of the shoe is covered in webbing which is run through by doubled stitches and the width and support are to my liking. I purchased them a size larger than what I usually wear because many miles and much heat provoke a good deal of swelling.
Using the Campmor website, I invested in a bug head net and pants to protect me from those crazy making freaks of nature. I also purchased a discounted down jacket which had received positive reviews and weighs 12 oz. And with that, I do believe I have most everything I need.
This past week I have been experimenting with pop can stoves. Fortunately a Montana ranch has a plethora of denatured alcohol in the form of HEET, a gas line de-freezer. As the kids were up at my house, a couple of them got involved in the stove building and comparing procedure. One morning one of the boys grilled his hamburger on the oven while another of them and myself each used our own made stoves to compare speed of cooking. While I had meticulously punched many tiny holes around the lip of my stove, the other boy had ruthlessly gouged chunks out of his. I figured this would make for less efficient fuel use, however, the difference was not enough for me to gloat over. Besides, his burger finished cooking before mine, leaving me a little miffed.
I continue with my indoor exercise practices for 'building core strength' although I am able to punctuate it more and more with outdoor romps and rambles. I have yet to make it any distance out of this area but I do hope for at least one overnighter before I head out of this great state. Thus far, my body is retaining her winter layers, although I can feel the muscles developing underneath. I am sure, as with most of my other hikes, I don't begin to shed weight until I am sctually out on the trail, and once that happens, it goes quickly. I am quite excited by the prospect. All this to say, things are coming along and coming together.
In response to my Auntie’s queries from last week, yes, my main contact will be my parents. I will do my best to keep a regular blog as I make it along the trail, although the apparent closing down of the Pocketmail people will not make that as easy as I had hoped. Most likely I will find a way to write from the trail and will have to mail those to either my parents or one of my friends back home who will then post it to the internet. This will keep my journal a few safe weeks behind actual progress providing a buffer of safety in case someone out there is just so taken with my words that they come looking for my wonderful self. =P
As far as contacting me on the trail, I will be carrying my cell phone for emergencies and when I hit town. I will leave my parents with a list of post offices and my approximate arrival date. That way, if any of you lovelies want to send a letter or package of yummies, it can be accommodated. I will let you know once I have that together and can probably email the list if requested.
Now it is past my bed time so I will conclude with this word of wisdom:
Poop.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Why
A chilly, Spring-like night descends over Big Sky Country. The sound of a passing train rolls across the snow-covered hills, garbles through the naked branches of the coolie trees and through my not-so-weather-proof windows. The transistors on the power lines crackle and hum and I contemplate whether to make a mug of hot cocoa. The sheep's tiny brains and impending due dates mean they must be kept in the corral through the nights. Each morning I wander through the herd and, as I move about the periphery of the fence the mass of them shuffle to the opposite wall. Big bellies and pink, swollen vulvas say that babies are coming soon; but not quite yet.
The cows are still out in the fields. They mainly concentrate themselves around the spots where the bales get rolled out. There are three spots where we do this and the girls are usually spread amoungst them. When afternoon feeding time is nigh they swagger their belly-ful selves to the hay pen and wait at the gate, to follow the truck to that day's chosen feeding spot. About a week ago one of the senior ladies declared that she thought they would all be fed down in the coolie, unfortunately she forgot to send a copy of the memo to the humans and so we fed up on the hill and then spent the next hour trying to coax them up.
Farm life holds steady, everyone is enjoying the sun and, for the first time this year, we are contending with mud. In fact, a lake is forming in front of my house; it makes for fun driving. I took two bags of our ewe's wool in to the Seed Show today to be judged and placed. It was funny to experience the concentration of old farmer men in their Carhartt overalls. They shuffled into small gatherings, murmuring about how they weathered the winter and summer prospects over cups of cheap coffee. The consensus is that this melt and warm is just fine so long as it don't melt too fast and cause flooding like in '93, '89, and '83. My favorites are the really old farm fellows. They are always amicable, slow to start speaking and hard to stop once they are going. They are also the most fun to car-wave at.
I am 34 days out from hitting San Diego where I will be staying with Scout and Sandy Mann. They recently sent out a color-coordinated itinerary of hikers' arrival and trail dates and sure enough, there I am. My Excel row is green; I approve.
Throughout the winter I have been developing a Yoga/Pilates/Bethany-likes-stretching routine which I am consolidating into a five minute routine which I can continue to practice on the trail. The exercise helps to center me and will also help prevent some common hiker injuries along the way. Provided the weather keeps in her current trend I should be able to get in a couple practice hikes up here to play with my gear, try out the stove, and get myself into the hiker head-space.
I have my initial Excel spread sheet of mileage, resupply points, etc. planned out. I will have to update the latter part of this once I figure out when it will be prudent to head into the high Sierras, but for now the tentative date is June 15. My current planning project is to complete the list of gear I will need. Some items, such as fuel and food, I will not purchase until I am in California but others, like socks, water containers, and anti-bug juice I will be able to make in Chicago and Kansas City.
Now, the matter at hand is to explain why I am doing this. The Tobasco Donkeys song (which anyone who has been to Philmont will likely sing along with [I don't think I have ever made it through the song without having to raise my voice in homage]) does a good job of approximating an explanation. The song is titled `I Don't Mind' and if you have a few minutes you should Youtube it so the music can really get to you.
I Don't Mind Tobasco Donkeys
I am looking, I am searching, I have found near the ground my soul and myself beneath this trail. There's no other place I'd rather be, can't you see me out here walking in the rain and hail. The purpose of life it seems to me is not to take yourself too seriously. I wouldn't want to be an old man sitting in an office building someplace far away with worry on my face. Well you can take my car, my stereo, my little money; leave me with nothing but my trail family. Take my dress up clothes, my cheap cologne, my college loans, I don't mind. Well if that tax man comes looking, I'm at ten thousand feet cooking up some oatmeal, or some rice and beans.
I worship the Spirit who doesn't just look down, he looks up and through and all around; find Him in the rocks and trees. `Cause there's no reason to pray when you wake up every day to the sunrise over `Cito peak. So find some ground, lace up your boots, start walking and you will find reason, enough reason to believe. Well you can drop your worries at the parking lot, or way down in the city where the sun burns hot, although civilization is a nice place to visit, I wouldn't want to live there.
Oh just one final paragraph of advice, don't burn yourselves out, be as I am. It's not enough to fight for the land, it's even more important to enjoy it while you can, while it's still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around, ramble out yonder, explore the woods, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep that yet sweet, and lucid air. Sit quite for a while, contemplate the precious stillness, that mystery, and awesome space. Enjoy yourself; keep your brain in your head and your head attached to your body, your body active and alive.
For those of you who know your outdoor literature, you probably noticed that they borrowed rather heavily from Edward Abbey in the last paragraph. So I guess I am giving it to you third hand and, while my college professors would never accept such a tenuous citation, I'm going to let it stand because, unlike Peter Bingen, who penned the song, I have no college debt; nor do I have to worry about becoming an old man someplace far away. Notwithstanding, I am going to try to wrap my own words around this same concept.
In simplest terms, I hike because it puts me in context. I am hopelessly aware of my place in this world and every step is a celebration of my part in the bigger picture. No more, no less. Existentialism without the crisis. It keeps me sane and happy. I learn what my body can do and hiking allows me to push and stretch those limits. Every day is a celebration and an exercise.
I often cite the beginning of my outdoor fixation being when I was wee and Dad would take the family (or sometimes just me) hiking. The clear mountain air, the smells, sounds, and sights furrowed a deep chord. When we lived in Chile, Dad would run the mountains; he carried a mirror with him and promised to flash a signal down once he reached the tops. I remember watching hard out the window, imagining where he was and what he was seeing. I don't actually recall seeing the light flashes but the trips in my imagination were vivid.
Now I am a woman. I have worked hard to make it abundantly clear to myself and my family that I am my own woman and that I'm gonna do what I wanna do. The prospect of thru-hiking one of the Triple Crown has been with me since high school. Dad and I briefly considered hiking the Appalachian Trail upon my graduation but that has yet to move out of the dream phase. Throughout college, love of the outdoors, and hiking in particular has been a big part of my personality. Those friends I love best have meandered out for trips with me. Andy and I hiked Colorado. Anne and I hiked Wales. Matt and I have hiked and wandered through many states and countries. All my Phil-friends who put in trail time with me. You come to know and appreciate both yourself and others in a clearer light.
I received Backpacker Magazine through much of my college life and spent a good deal of time perusing the pages of trails and gear. I often spoke of the long hikes which I would one day endeavor. Senior year I lived in a house off campus with two friends (one of them being Anne) and my Backpacker magazine adorned rooms ranging from the throne-room to the living room. At some point I must have aired the idea of hiking the PCT because Anne promptly and emphatically called dibs on hiking the John Muir Trail (a 200 mile segment of the PCT) with me. I consented without truly filing it because the whole project just seemed so far away.
While I was living in Mallorca I kept in contact with a smattering of pals from throughout my life. One of these was a boy with whom I had worked in Alaska. One day he informed me that he and a few others were planning on hiking the PCT in 2010. While I celebrate the call of the wild in all my friends, I must admit that the first sensation which jolted through me was jealousy. Here I had been dreaming of hiking such a trail for years and had done nothing about it and this turd-brain just decided he was going to hike it and was going to do so before I did. It was a jolt, I was chagrinned at my own lack of follow through. Some days later he asked if I was excited about the PCT hike, I told him that I was, as much as I could be excited about someone else living out my dream. He retaliated with telling me that the reason he had presented it was that I might join in. I was immediately elated. I did some research and the dream turned into a decision. Not a rock solid one, but something I was seriously considering.
The idea jounced around in my heart and soul for some months. In that span of time the fellow who had presented the idea withdrew his intention of hiking so I was left to decide whether this was something I was willing to undertake on my own.Duh. Around this time I received a letter from one of my hiking gurus, Andy Borek, encouraging me to go on the trail if and only if the desire truly came from within myself and was in my own interest. He lauded solo hiking over starting with a group (which I have gone on to learn is a well acknowledged truth amoungst thru-hikers). I considered his words and decided that yes; absolutely.
I ordered the Data Book from the Pacific Crest Trail Association while working on the Glacier and was quickly overwhelmed and lost in the short-hand and formulas which I needed to figure out mileage and snow levels. However, the sensation of anticipation and excitement stayed strong. Every time we took days off from the glacier and went hiking in the mountains around Skagway I would catch myself dreaming of being on The Trail. Those ethereal moments when it was about so much more than just myself and my surroundings. Where one energy ran through my feet, and the ground and up the trees and bloomed into the heavens above; those instances where God was not only near but in and all around me. Those were the times when I HAD to laugh out loud and skip and clap and giggle and cry. There is where I am most real, certain of my own existence and pertinence.
These past few months have seen the dawning of this hike as a reality. The day I ordered the Trail Guides, reading others' trail journals, investing in Yogi's Handbook, purchasing gear and tickets. Each step bringing me closer to making this a reality. The day I finally owned up and dared to air my intention to my whole family and their subsequent acceptance that I might actually do this thing.
Now, I sit here surrounded by gear and guide books and to do lists and this is about so much more than the trail. It is about proving to myself that I not only dare to dream but am willing and able to actualize those dreams. The hours of planning and plotting, networking, and consulting. Knowing that I will stand on the Mexican/American border and begin moving north. Imagining the transformation my mind and body will undergo. The people and instances I will encounter and grow from. I have no way of knowing now whether I will finish the trail on my first try, certainly there are an infinity of factors which may arise, but I have to know that I gave it my best; truly.
A few months ago I was journaling about it all and for the first time I gave rise to my own doubts and fears. I realized that I had been repressing these for fear that they should stop me. But they haven't because once I cast them into the withering light of honest consideration, I see and appreciate them for what they are and I press forward, undeterred.
In the most practical terms, I am hiking the PCT now because I am young, healthy, and have incredibly few responsibilities. The economy is bad, I am ambivalent and the trail is certain and inviting. And so I go. The first section of the first chapter in Yogi's guide is titled "They'll never understand" and in this section she states, "You're stepping out, ignoring what society says you're SUPPOSED to do, and that scares them [non-hikers]. Seriously, they will never understand us. All you can ask is that they understnad that this is important to you and that you want their support."
So, folks, this is me telling you this is very important to me and I need your support. Please, any questions you have, shoot them my way. But most of all, what I'm going to need are your prayers (and maybe some care packages with snacks and letters along the way).
The cows are still out in the fields. They mainly concentrate themselves around the spots where the bales get rolled out. There are three spots where we do this and the girls are usually spread amoungst them. When afternoon feeding time is nigh they swagger their belly-ful selves to the hay pen and wait at the gate, to follow the truck to that day's chosen feeding spot. About a week ago one of the senior ladies declared that she thought they would all be fed down in the coolie, unfortunately she forgot to send a copy of the memo to the humans and so we fed up on the hill and then spent the next hour trying to coax them up.
Farm life holds steady, everyone is enjoying the sun and, for the first time this year, we are contending with mud. In fact, a lake is forming in front of my house; it makes for fun driving. I took two bags of our ewe's wool in to the Seed Show today to be judged and placed. It was funny to experience the concentration of old farmer men in their Carhartt overalls. They shuffled into small gatherings, murmuring about how they weathered the winter and summer prospects over cups of cheap coffee. The consensus is that this melt and warm is just fine so long as it don't melt too fast and cause flooding like in '93, '89, and '83. My favorites are the really old farm fellows. They are always amicable, slow to start speaking and hard to stop once they are going. They are also the most fun to car-wave at.
I am 34 days out from hitting San Diego where I will be staying with Scout and Sandy Mann. They recently sent out a color-coordinated itinerary of hikers' arrival and trail dates and sure enough, there I am. My Excel row is green; I approve.
Throughout the winter I have been developing a Yoga/Pilates/Bethany-likes-stretching routine which I am consolidating into a five minute routine which I can continue to practice on the trail. The exercise helps to center me and will also help prevent some common hiker injuries along the way. Provided the weather keeps in her current trend I should be able to get in a couple practice hikes up here to play with my gear, try out the stove, and get myself into the hiker head-space.
I have my initial Excel spread sheet of mileage, resupply points, etc. planned out. I will have to update the latter part of this once I figure out when it will be prudent to head into the high Sierras, but for now the tentative date is June 15. My current planning project is to complete the list of gear I will need. Some items, such as fuel and food, I will not purchase until I am in California but others, like socks, water containers, and anti-bug juice I will be able to make in Chicago and Kansas City.
Now, the matter at hand is to explain why I am doing this. The Tobasco Donkeys song (which anyone who has been to Philmont will likely sing along with [I don't think I have ever made it through the song without having to raise my voice in homage]) does a good job of approximating an explanation. The song is titled `I Don't Mind' and if you have a few minutes you should Youtube it so the music can really get to you.
I Don't Mind Tobasco Donkeys
I am looking, I am searching, I have found near the ground my soul and myself beneath this trail. There's no other place I'd rather be, can't you see me out here walking in the rain and hail. The purpose of life it seems to me is not to take yourself too seriously. I wouldn't want to be an old man sitting in an office building someplace far away with worry on my face. Well you can take my car, my stereo, my little money; leave me with nothing but my trail family. Take my dress up clothes, my cheap cologne, my college loans, I don't mind. Well if that tax man comes looking, I'm at ten thousand feet cooking up some oatmeal, or some rice and beans.
I worship the Spirit who doesn't just look down, he looks up and through and all around; find Him in the rocks and trees. `Cause there's no reason to pray when you wake up every day to the sunrise over `Cito peak. So find some ground, lace up your boots, start walking and you will find reason, enough reason to believe. Well you can drop your worries at the parking lot, or way down in the city where the sun burns hot, although civilization is a nice place to visit, I wouldn't want to live there.
Oh just one final paragraph of advice, don't burn yourselves out, be as I am. It's not enough to fight for the land, it's even more important to enjoy it while you can, while it's still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around, ramble out yonder, explore the woods, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep that yet sweet, and lucid air. Sit quite for a while, contemplate the precious stillness, that mystery, and awesome space. Enjoy yourself; keep your brain in your head and your head attached to your body, your body active and alive.
For those of you who know your outdoor literature, you probably noticed that they borrowed rather heavily from Edward Abbey in the last paragraph. So I guess I am giving it to you third hand and, while my college professors would never accept such a tenuous citation, I'm going to let it stand because, unlike Peter Bingen, who penned the song, I have no college debt; nor do I have to worry about becoming an old man someplace far away. Notwithstanding, I am going to try to wrap my own words around this same concept.
In simplest terms, I hike because it puts me in context. I am hopelessly aware of my place in this world and every step is a celebration of my part in the bigger picture. No more, no less. Existentialism without the crisis. It keeps me sane and happy. I learn what my body can do and hiking allows me to push and stretch those limits. Every day is a celebration and an exercise.
I often cite the beginning of my outdoor fixation being when I was wee and Dad would take the family (or sometimes just me) hiking. The clear mountain air, the smells, sounds, and sights furrowed a deep chord. When we lived in Chile, Dad would run the mountains; he carried a mirror with him and promised to flash a signal down once he reached the tops. I remember watching hard out the window, imagining where he was and what he was seeing. I don't actually recall seeing the light flashes but the trips in my imagination were vivid.
Now I am a woman. I have worked hard to make it abundantly clear to myself and my family that I am my own woman and that I'm gonna do what I wanna do. The prospect of thru-hiking one of the Triple Crown has been with me since high school. Dad and I briefly considered hiking the Appalachian Trail upon my graduation but that has yet to move out of the dream phase. Throughout college, love of the outdoors, and hiking in particular has been a big part of my personality. Those friends I love best have meandered out for trips with me. Andy and I hiked Colorado. Anne and I hiked Wales. Matt and I have hiked and wandered through many states and countries. All my Phil-friends who put in trail time with me. You come to know and appreciate both yourself and others in a clearer light.
I received Backpacker Magazine through much of my college life and spent a good deal of time perusing the pages of trails and gear. I often spoke of the long hikes which I would one day endeavor. Senior year I lived in a house off campus with two friends (one of them being Anne) and my Backpacker magazine adorned rooms ranging from the throne-room to the living room. At some point I must have aired the idea of hiking the PCT because Anne promptly and emphatically called dibs on hiking the John Muir Trail (a 200 mile segment of the PCT) with me. I consented without truly filing it because the whole project just seemed so far away.
While I was living in Mallorca I kept in contact with a smattering of pals from throughout my life. One of these was a boy with whom I had worked in Alaska. One day he informed me that he and a few others were planning on hiking the PCT in 2010. While I celebrate the call of the wild in all my friends, I must admit that the first sensation which jolted through me was jealousy. Here I had been dreaming of hiking such a trail for years and had done nothing about it and this turd-brain just decided he was going to hike it and was going to do so before I did. It was a jolt, I was chagrinned at my own lack of follow through. Some days later he asked if I was excited about the PCT hike, I told him that I was, as much as I could be excited about someone else living out my dream. He retaliated with telling me that the reason he had presented it was that I might join in. I was immediately elated. I did some research and the dream turned into a decision. Not a rock solid one, but something I was seriously considering.
The idea jounced around in my heart and soul for some months. In that span of time the fellow who had presented the idea withdrew his intention of hiking so I was left to decide whether this was something I was willing to undertake on my own.Duh. Around this time I received a letter from one of my hiking gurus, Andy Borek, encouraging me to go on the trail if and only if the desire truly came from within myself and was in my own interest. He lauded solo hiking over starting with a group (which I have gone on to learn is a well acknowledged truth amoungst thru-hikers). I considered his words and decided that yes; absolutely.
I ordered the Data Book from the Pacific Crest Trail Association while working on the Glacier and was quickly overwhelmed and lost in the short-hand and formulas which I needed to figure out mileage and snow levels. However, the sensation of anticipation and excitement stayed strong. Every time we took days off from the glacier and went hiking in the mountains around Skagway I would catch myself dreaming of being on The Trail. Those ethereal moments when it was about so much more than just myself and my surroundings. Where one energy ran through my feet, and the ground and up the trees and bloomed into the heavens above; those instances where God was not only near but in and all around me. Those were the times when I HAD to laugh out loud and skip and clap and giggle and cry. There is where I am most real, certain of my own existence and pertinence.
These past few months have seen the dawning of this hike as a reality. The day I ordered the Trail Guides, reading others' trail journals, investing in Yogi's Handbook, purchasing gear and tickets. Each step bringing me closer to making this a reality. The day I finally owned up and dared to air my intention to my whole family and their subsequent acceptance that I might actually do this thing.
Now, I sit here surrounded by gear and guide books and to do lists and this is about so much more than the trail. It is about proving to myself that I not only dare to dream but am willing and able to actualize those dreams. The hours of planning and plotting, networking, and consulting. Knowing that I will stand on the Mexican/American border and begin moving north. Imagining the transformation my mind and body will undergo. The people and instances I will encounter and grow from. I have no way of knowing now whether I will finish the trail on my first try, certainly there are an infinity of factors which may arise, but I have to know that I gave it my best; truly.
A few months ago I was journaling about it all and for the first time I gave rise to my own doubts and fears. I realized that I had been repressing these for fear that they should stop me. But they haven't because once I cast them into the withering light of honest consideration, I see and appreciate them for what they are and I press forward, undeterred.
In the most practical terms, I am hiking the PCT now because I am young, healthy, and have incredibly few responsibilities. The economy is bad, I am ambivalent and the trail is certain and inviting. And so I go. The first section of the first chapter in Yogi's guide is titled "They'll never understand" and in this section she states, "You're stepping out, ignoring what society says you're SUPPOSED to do, and that scares them [non-hikers]. Seriously, they will never understand us. All you can ask is that they understnad that this is important to you and that you want their support."
So, folks, this is me telling you this is very important to me and I need your support. Please, any questions you have, shoot them my way. But most of all, what I'm going to need are your prayers (and maybe some care packages with snacks and letters along the way).
Friday, March 5, 2010
41 Days...
...and counting.
Winter begins to pull her chilly shawl tightly around herself, withdrawing, leaving the rest of us to encounter sunny skies and warmer temperatures. Most everyone up here is sure this is just a cruel tease but I must admit that this past week of sunshiney 'practice spring' has brought great joy to my heart. I have been in to the big city of Havre over the past several weekends and as I walk between friends' houses I leap across rivers of dirty, icy water. I must decide which snow bank is most likely to actually support my weight and which is waiting to suck me in up to my calf and fill my shoes with ice. Which one will I slip on and which will make a good perch for the next jump. When should I just walk half a block up the street and cross there. All the while I know this is nothing compared to what I will soon be facing, and quite frankly, I can't wait.
With some experience in such matters I must admit that these interim periods put me in an odd headspace. My 'observer' Aquarius truly comes out. Life happens around me and I am entertained by it, but the sense of investment slips away. The back half of my brain is overwhelmed by the ephemeral nature of life. Fortunately these thoughts are no longer the fatalistic ruminations which they used to be; they no longer hold such power or negative energy. I understand that it is just a phase, my way of dealing with change. Besides, my heart and half my brain are already on the trail.
Most exciting, I have my "Big Three" (sleeping bag, tent, and backpack). My bag is a Women's Adrenaline Golite, it weighs 1 lb 12 oz. It is only a half zip so I do worry about my feet getting too warm but it was the only bag of its class which I could find for a reasonable price. My tent is a Big Agnes model, on loan from a Philmont buddy. Fortunately the boy actually knows what to look for in a tent so she is super light, free standing and the rain fly is completely detachable for those starry, buggy nights. I have not weighed it or looked up the model yet but I would say she probably comes in at around 2 lbs. My backpack is an Osprey, model Ariel 65. I have yet to have the hip belt molded to me (I will probably do so at the REI when I swing through Chicago) because I was iffy about committing right away but, after surviving a few rough little adventures with me, I must pledge allegiance. I did receive the sleeping bag and tent in the mail on the same day. When the post office called for me to come pick them up I was so excited that I had to do the Driver's Seat dance all the way into town. It was all I could do to restrain myself from ripping them open right there but I made myself wait. I jumped into the car and tried to put it in reverse but instead my left turn signal came on. It took me a few moments to figure out what was going on! I did make it home safely and promptly set everything up in my living room and spent the night in it right there. The weather may finally be getting warm enough that I can take it all out and we can all get to know each other a little better.
I also went ahead and purchased a Marmot DriClime wind jacket. I have read nothing but glowing reviews of this particular piece of gear and the XL which I ordered fits perfectly. So, huzzah!!! Another piece I have been researching is called the PocketMail. Again, many hikers have spoken very highly of it and, as I was tootling about on the Internet, looking for a deal, I called one of their distributors. The friendly gal told me she thought they may have gone under, which both alarmed me and made me thankful I looked into it before taking others' word on the matter. I have emailed the company and we will see what they say. If I can find another, similar device I may go ahead an invest in it for the ease of communication with friends and family and a light way to keep a journal (paper gets heavy, especially when wet).
Aside from that, I am still working on putting together the just right kind of stove, looking into a tough and reasonably priced little camera, and my final 'big ticket item' will be a down jacket of some sort. I have considered ordering shoes online but I have pretty particular feet and I will really only trust something I have at least tried on; therefore I am going to have to wait until I make a trip into Great Falls or possibly until Chicago or Kansas City. While the policy with boots is to get them ahead of time and break them in (or else suffer and DIE) lightweight runners are a different matter altogether.
As per request by Papa Morris I am working on a piece to explain exactly why I am undertaking this adventure. When and if I get the right words put together I will post it. I do apologize for the recent irregularity of my writing. Life just comes in bouts sometimes.
Winter begins to pull her chilly shawl tightly around herself, withdrawing, leaving the rest of us to encounter sunny skies and warmer temperatures. Most everyone up here is sure this is just a cruel tease but I must admit that this past week of sunshiney 'practice spring' has brought great joy to my heart. I have been in to the big city of Havre over the past several weekends and as I walk between friends' houses I leap across rivers of dirty, icy water. I must decide which snow bank is most likely to actually support my weight and which is waiting to suck me in up to my calf and fill my shoes with ice. Which one will I slip on and which will make a good perch for the next jump. When should I just walk half a block up the street and cross there. All the while I know this is nothing compared to what I will soon be facing, and quite frankly, I can't wait.
With some experience in such matters I must admit that these interim periods put me in an odd headspace. My 'observer' Aquarius truly comes out. Life happens around me and I am entertained by it, but the sense of investment slips away. The back half of my brain is overwhelmed by the ephemeral nature of life. Fortunately these thoughts are no longer the fatalistic ruminations which they used to be; they no longer hold such power or negative energy. I understand that it is just a phase, my way of dealing with change. Besides, my heart and half my brain are already on the trail.
Most exciting, I have my "Big Three" (sleeping bag, tent, and backpack). My bag is a Women's Adrenaline Golite, it weighs 1 lb 12 oz. It is only a half zip so I do worry about my feet getting too warm but it was the only bag of its class which I could find for a reasonable price. My tent is a Big Agnes model, on loan from a Philmont buddy. Fortunately the boy actually knows what to look for in a tent so she is super light, free standing and the rain fly is completely detachable for those starry, buggy nights. I have not weighed it or looked up the model yet but I would say she probably comes in at around 2 lbs. My backpack is an Osprey, model Ariel 65. I have yet to have the hip belt molded to me (I will probably do so at the REI when I swing through Chicago) because I was iffy about committing right away but, after surviving a few rough little adventures with me, I must pledge allegiance. I did receive the sleeping bag and tent in the mail on the same day. When the post office called for me to come pick them up I was so excited that I had to do the Driver's Seat dance all the way into town. It was all I could do to restrain myself from ripping them open right there but I made myself wait. I jumped into the car and tried to put it in reverse but instead my left turn signal came on. It took me a few moments to figure out what was going on! I did make it home safely and promptly set everything up in my living room and spent the night in it right there. The weather may finally be getting warm enough that I can take it all out and we can all get to know each other a little better.
I also went ahead and purchased a Marmot DriClime wind jacket. I have read nothing but glowing reviews of this particular piece of gear and the XL which I ordered fits perfectly. So, huzzah!!! Another piece I have been researching is called the PocketMail. Again, many hikers have spoken very highly of it and, as I was tootling about on the Internet, looking for a deal, I called one of their distributors. The friendly gal told me she thought they may have gone under, which both alarmed me and made me thankful I looked into it before taking others' word on the matter. I have emailed the company and we will see what they say. If I can find another, similar device I may go ahead an invest in it for the ease of communication with friends and family and a light way to keep a journal (paper gets heavy, especially when wet).
Aside from that, I am still working on putting together the just right kind of stove, looking into a tough and reasonably priced little camera, and my final 'big ticket item' will be a down jacket of some sort. I have considered ordering shoes online but I have pretty particular feet and I will really only trust something I have at least tried on; therefore I am going to have to wait until I make a trip into Great Falls or possibly until Chicago or Kansas City. While the policy with boots is to get them ahead of time and break them in (or else suffer and DIE) lightweight runners are a different matter altogether.
As per request by Papa Morris I am working on a piece to explain exactly why I am undertaking this adventure. When and if I get the right words put together I will post it. I do apologize for the recent irregularity of my writing. Life just comes in bouts sometimes.
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