From Me to You

Broken.

A word with so many negative connotations many of which signify endings, crash & burn scenarios, impossibilities, incapacitations, inabilities to fix.

Let’s look at the cold hard facts: we live in a world of consumerism at its finest. It’s a beautiful thing in a stupid way- you can get anything you want from anywhere in the world pretty much whenever you want it. It seems like many of these things are designed to self-destruct after a predetermined amount of time. They last just long enough to get you hooked then crumble beneath your fingertips so you’re forced to buy more rather than go without. They crumble, they disintegrate, they BREAK.

To Break. Breaking. Broke. Broken.

Break-ups, break-downs, break-aparts. You can break up with a way you’ve chosen to lead your life, with another human, with a dream. As a result, you can break down. Hell, your car can even break down- though let’s be honest, that’s preferable to having a house burn down or something else along those lines. 

All of these leave you with a loss: a loss of lifestyle, of sanity, of relationships, of goals, of beloved items of gear that you’ve run ragged across innumerable adventures.

But.

That’s right: But. In these losses, these departures we also find arrivals.

You can break down a scenario to glean a way to deal / cope / approach (choose your favorite). You can break up with who you used to be and move on to be a better human. Sometimes the objects you break apart turn out to be easter eggs full of delicious things someone hid in your car as a surprise while you were out.

You can break objects, you can break your soul, your heart, your body, your bones.

Perhaps, instead of mourning the loss people should celebrate that there was something, whatever it may be, solid enough to break & notice said break happening in the first place. Breaking takes some sort of force & where there’s force there was probably a good bit of life lived to cause the snap.

. . . 

Rumor has it a gal you probably know broke a leg this spring. Rumor has it the break was caused by  diving headfirst- both figuratively AND literally- into something new on an awesomely bluebird day with pockets full of fruit-snacks & chocolate surrounded by stupendous folks. Ten points, endless rolls of ace wrap, and usage of well-worn crutches to anyone with a guess as to who.

Yeah, a bone broke (not cleanly)… The beauty of it? Bone regenerates with time and in that time bonds are formed. Bonds of new bone, of family, of new relationships, of steadfast old friendships. Bonds that might not have gotten as much attention as they deserve had you been able bodied. Sure, being bed-bound is not ideal but it sure does show you who cares. From one friend willing to spend a chunk of their ski day in the emergency clinic with you then ski your borrowed helmet back up to another on edge because she heard your identifying age & initials over the ski-patrol radio to the boyfriend who helps you gingerly move enough to get situated at their house only to drive back into town & pick up painkillers for you. To that same one who accompanied you to every doctors visit to make sure they know not recovering fully is NOT an option, listened to your mother tell stories of that time you were a weirder kid than you are now, and taught you to play chess because what else do you do with a bed-bound gimp? I could continue with this list but I digress.

A broken bone: an active person’s worst dream? Nah. The richness of life that can stem from it is worth its weight in gold- or in this case, titanium.

A few weeks ago that girl started to walk unaided by crutches or boots. This week that girl started to guide hikes. Next week that girl might get to start trying to run again. There's still some work to be done but this bionic woman is getting back on track.

So consider this a big thank-you. Kudos to every single one of you who helped out from near and afar. It takes a village, as they say, and this village is a bastion.

Somewhere, USA

Somewhere, nowhere, anywhere, EVERYWHERE… dependent on the day.

Favorite place? My FAVORITE place? That’s a loaded question. Favorite place for what? For living? For working? You’re going to have to be more specific if you have hopes of getting any semblance of an answer. I get asked this occasionally. We all do. Usually it pertains to Glacier, sometimes to the world.

The answer? If we told you, we’d most assuredly have to kill you. Or lie. Trust me when I say we’d prefer to do neither.  The only way we’ll spill our secrets is to take you there… but first we have to make sure you’re capable of cherishing it.

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We all have places we hold near & dear to our hearts. Some because of memories past, some for aspiring memories future. Maybe the best days of our lives happened there, maybe our hearts were shattered & rebuilt amidst their humbling presence. Wherever your respective place(s) may be, all of ours are united by something: they are beloved &, for many, secrets kept close to our hearts.

I have a favorite place. Many actually. Some are fleeting, others are for life.  Some I even have pictures of that I’ll share with the people I trust most- the people who might be able to appreciate them in a way akin to my own. Rarely I’ll let the location seep forth, more often I’ll make them figure it out themselves. Make them earn it. Half of the adventure is the process undertaken chasing these spots.

Fleeting favorites you ask? That seems rather fickle. Frankly though, we simply can’t let every location we visit permanently latch itself onto our list of “favorites” for what meaning would such a label hold if we did?

The true forevers are those whose names you daren’t utter above a whisper.

The true forevers are those you actually want to capture in that journal you’ve brought on every trip for the past few seasons yet somehow been “too busy” to write in except for those adventures that matter most.

These places are the bastions of strength getting us through long workdays. They’re the places that take our breaths and minds away when we least expect it- a miniscule thought & we’re instantaneously transported across oceans.

.  .  .  

We all have forever favorites. A few are longstanding love affairs, some are newfound passions, one in a million take the pinch-me-is-this-real fairytale form. Though we love them all, we feel fortunate to find that fairytale not just on the pages of books but in real time.

It’s a place of pure magic, a place that makes you believe anything is possible.

Though we will not tell you its name, we will tell you that it’s found at the corner of flawless & awe-inspiring. It may be hemmed in by hallowed walls but its essence will soar well beyond their confines. If you’re like me, it won’t have cell service nor will it be reached by car. Its trailhead is tucked in amidst unassuming tumbleweed down roads long-since-forgotten. Its path leads you straight into the heart of “did I inadvertently tunnel to the other side of the world” territory.

To embrace it you must be willing to be inspired, to accept that such a place really does exist. You must succumb to having your life changed for an eternity by mere moments. You must be willing to be humbled.

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Every so often we come across a person we would like to take to this place, these places. We connect with them in such a way that why wouldn’t we want them to be privy to these steadfast spots?

Yet, these instances cause us pause. Part of what makes these spots the fairytale they may be are the pre-existing experiences attached. The ones you had when you first set foot within them. By introducing another factor into the equation you risk marring the memories, you risk introducing an alternate ending to the story. What if they see your megalith as a mere pile of stones? Ah, but what if they don’t?

“We shoot backcountry bloggers” reads a bumper sticker slapped to the side of a stop-sign on a country road in the middle of Somewhere I Love, USA. For all the places sacrificed in magazines, there is a plethora of spots that remain anonymous. Still, we fear our favorites might end up antagonistically splashed across the pages of Outside or Backpacker for a paltry sum of money. Be warned: if you choose to be responsible for such a divulgence, it may be taken as a personal affront to those of us who tipped you off. We will hold you culpable for your cavalier actions.

Those who know me know one of my favorite adages is “it’s the places that make you come but the people that make you stay.” Sometimes, just sometimes, though it IS the places themselves that hold you captive and the people accessories to help you remember them by.

What is (are) my (our) favorite spot(s) you ask?

If we’ve shown you a picture, consider yourselves amongst the privileged few. You need no name, only patience. You’re probably already on the short-list to visit.

All In

Life.

When we look back at the things the past year has brought us, all of the incredible characters we’ve met, all of the places the winds have carried us to (and all of the winds themselves that almost tossed us off of ridgelines & bridges…), all of the incredible moments that we simply would not have been physically able to witness from the confines of “normal” and we realize that yes, the crazy adventures are worth it.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. It was a few countries ago that I was last on here. But here’s what’s been rolling around in my head (and probably yours too, even if you’re not willing to admit it):

Buy a plane ticket that costs a good portion of your income.

Make it a one way.

Make sure it takes you somewhere you’ve wanted to go so badly your whole life that tears well up when you finally set eyes on it.

Then buy another that starts in an airport under construction and lands at one in the mountains with a runway roughly the length of a football field.

Hold your breath as the plane on that particular leg of the journey takes off and lands.

. . . 

Trudge up to an elevation that give you headaches and makes you want to puke. Keep walking on anyway.

Wonder about all the people who have walked the trail before you.

Start a silent dance party in the middle of a mountain memorial with a group of travelers you’ve never met as you catch your breath from a steep climb.

Slide down a rock with a couple kids you just met. And unabashedly love it.

 . . .

Watch someone get chased by a monkey.

Then unknowingly cross an invisible line and find yourself getting slapped by that same monkey.

Laugh about it.

. . .

Wander the dirt streets beneath a web of tangled powerlines and have faith you will find your way back. Somehow.

Barter with someone who doesn’t speak your language. Get egregiously ripped off (by local standards). Try to barter again five minutes later and three vendors down.

Take a ride in a rickshaw to somewhere far from where you're staying then realize they misunderstood how long you wanted to be out and argue over payment.

Stand on a rooftop and look at a city that is literally every color of the rainbow.

. . .

Eat so much rice, SO much rice that you balk at the thought of facing it for months afterwards.

Discover how good orange flavored oreos taste in comparison.

If you can't bring yourself to eat yak, at the very least pet one.

 . . .

Take a busride that makes you put your seatbelt on not because of the law, but because the road is rough enough that you might just actually fall out of your seat if you don’t.

Ride in a dugout canoe and realize it has a leak in it right as it sidles up to a crocodile. The meat-eating kind.

. . .

Hop off the dugout with a local and get a quick two-second stampede away from a one-horned, feisty rhino with a reputation for picking a fight.

Make sure you have an escape plan for if he decides to charge you.

Even if your “escape plan” turns out to be to jumping into that crocodile filled river two feet back and five feet down from where you currently stand.

Walk down the road next to an elephant.

. . .  

Get lost in a misty jungle weathered by monsoons and stumble upon tiger prints right next to rhino prints right next to sloth bear prints.

Jump out of bed in the middle of the night to watch a rhino eat outside your thatched roof mud hut. Listen to them rip grass from the ground and foliage from a tree.

Watch the shapes of elephants emerge from the morning mist.

. . . 

Unlock your heart, offer it up, and let yourself experience what it means to be vulnerable in the presence of someone who is more than absolutely worth it.

Spend a birthday, be it yours or theirs, with your best friend somewhere wild and remote.

Fight for what you want. Stick to your guns.

. . .
Whatever you do, wherever you find yourself: throw yourself into it, don’t give up, soak each experience up for all it’s worth. 

Make it count.

Go.

I dare you.