Month: March 2017

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A Motionless Purgatory

This was one of those rare days where I was powering uphill away from Keith. Normally, I’m the one in the back, slowly working my way up the hill as I watch Keith’s butt stride away from me. My method has always been: move slow, rest infrequently. My body is slow to warm up, and quick to cool down, meaning that a 15 minute rest doesn’t equal recovery, it means I now have to spend another mile getting my body warmed up again. Beyond the inner workings of my cardiovascular system, this hiking method works for me. I get bored really easily and I detest sitting still.

But, today was one of those rare days, and so I waited patiently for Keith, slowed my pace and stuck with my buddy as he has done countless times for me. Actually, what really happened is that I took the lead, put on the soundtrack to Hamilton and proceeded to have my own Broadway show as I danced and sang my way up the trail. Nothing slows you down quite so much as attempting to belt out show-tunes at 7,000ft. I think it’s fair to say that I’m an absolute joy to hike with.

Our original plan for the weekend was to practice snow safety skills with my brand new ice axe. But as we climbed it became apparent that as much snow as we had this winter, it was going to be hard to find a slope to practice on. With poor snow conditions and a tired boyfriend we opted to set up camp and spend the day relaxing in the mountains. It was certainly a novel concept, and I’m open to trying anything once.

With the tent pitched, pads inflated, and sleeping bags unfurled we were all set. Well, Keith was all set to nap, and I was all set to LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND! WHAT THE HELL DO PEOPLE DO FOR HOURS! WHAT EVEN IS RELAXING? LIKE, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? While Keith dozed, I was in my own personal purgatory.

To most people the idea of sitting in a beautiful campsite overlooking an expansive valley would sound ideal. These are the same people who plan beach vacations, who use phrases like “time to unwind,” enjoy such “activities” as sunbathing, and that nebulous and insidious word “relaxing.” I don’t trust these people. I am not these people. I do not relax. I move. I walk. I interact with my world via passing through it. I appreciate nature and our wild spaces almost exclusively by traveling and being challenged by it.

How I passed the afternoon I can hardly recall. The pot that I had left in my food bag probably helped.

Luckily for me, Mama Nature is nothing if not a provider, willing to look after even her most fidgety children. That evening she put on the most spectacular sunset just for us.

Perched on a large rock just outside of camp Keith and I watched as the sun began to dip behind the hills and the high cirrus clouds were lit afire with the fading rays. The green pine tree-clad hills dipped to a royal purple, a distant lake glowed a shocking pink, and Catalina Island rose up from the golden waters of the Pacific Ocean like an ancient beast. As the scene dipped to black the lights in the valley below began to twinkle into life, a few at a time, and then all at once. In the dark we were the only two people on that mountain, holding court above the thousands of people below, evident only because of the lights of their homes, and cars, and parking lots.

As my butt fell asleep on that cold rock I thought about all those people down in the valleys and basins of Southern California. Did they even know we were up here? Do they look up to these mountains and feel the same pull that I do?

To me, these mountains are my home, my safe place. My heart lives in the mountains. And they have ways of teaching me things that I could not have learned myself. Without even noticing it I had sat on that rock, motionless, as I watched the sun set. I had found a way (or been forced), to relax for once and enjoy the moment, the company, and the view. I guess today was just one of those rare days.

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Backpacking – A Checklist

Backpacking is the best. It just is. You get to walk into nature with everything you need for your own survival on your back. You get to see more nature, fewer people, and most people will think you’re a crazy bad-ass for even attempting it. However, a lot of people hit a barrier when they attempt to make the transition from day hiker to backpacker, and that stumbling block all comes down to one thing: too much fucking gear.

I subscribe to a style of backpacking I’ve dubbed “comfort ultralight.” And while this may seem like a contradiction in terms, I think it’s a style of backpacking that everybody should adopt. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my personal preference. Ok, maybe I am saying that a little bit, but I have other reasons too! Promise.

I used to not be the biggest fan of backpacking, I hated lugging all that shit around, being weighed down, and seeing less stuff in more time. At a certain point backpacking just becomes slow-hiking-with-camping-thrown-in-because-you-packed-too-much-crap-and-now-you-can’t-walk-fast, and that sucks. However, if you can cut down on your setup, you’ll move more comfortably, see more and enjoy those sights more without the strain of a 50lb pack on, and once you’re home you’ll have way less garbage to unpack and wash. There are so few downsides to this style of travel it’s incredible to me that people pack any other way.

The largest outcry that random old white dudes on the internet named Trent, or Chad, or Brent or Wally have expressed with this kind of travel is safety. How can a poor little girl travel safely in the wilderness without five extra pairs of wool socks!?!?!? They exclaim. Well, Chad, I do it by ensuring that everything I do bring on the trail has a specific function in keeping me alive. I also make sure to tell people where it is I’m going, and unlike angry Facebook Brent, I have a strong predilection for bailing in sketchy situations. Besides, when stuff goes sideways, having two extra pairs of underwear isn’t going to be the X-Factor in keeping you alive.

Ultralight comfort could be summed up with the following: every piece of gear should serve at least one necessary function, be light, be durable, and have no redundancies.

So what does that actually mean? Probably not a lot, unless you already have a gear list in mind. So I’ve created a list for a typical three-season set up that is light, safe, and comfortable.

Comfort Backpacking

 

Hey guys a little housekeeping here! First off, did you know that you can subscribe to this blog? Yep, just scroll down to the bottom of the page and enter your e-mail and you’ll be automatically notified when I post (ahhh the future). Second, if you have any questions about this list post a comment on this post and I’ll make an effort to respond!

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Do it Yourself – Build Your Own F–king Fire!

 

 

From the saddle above Romero Canyon near Santa Barbara. SB is a great area for beginner bacpackers.

Last weekend I built a fire. And it burned, nicely. And I put it out. And it was great. And I was very proud of myself. Very proud. Stupid proud.

So, why am I telling you this?

Because, if I’m camping with my boyfriend, 90% of the time I’ll let him light and tend the fire. And until recently, I used to let him pick the routes we hiked, I’d follow his path when we needed to route-find, even after learning that he’s not very gifted when it comes to a sense of direction (sorry babe, but we both know it’s true). Even in all the situations where I knew I could lead, I would simply let him do it. This fire was one of the first I’d built and tended myself in years. Years people!

But, why?

The answer is simple: because there was nobody else to do it for me.

Looking south along the coast on Romero Road.

I grew up in a household with a strong and fiercely intelligent mother, she was the breadwinner in our family, and she worked to show my sister and me that we were no less competent, intelligent, or valuable than our male peers. My father was also instrumental in this process, teaching us how to fix things around the house, as well as how to cook for ourselves. However, as I grew up and made my way through the world I quickly learned that my parents feminist views were not universally shared. Going through highschool and college I gravitated towards male-dominated careers, and it was here where societies little standards began to creep into my head.

My male peers often assumed I was less physically able, weaker. That they were inherently more talented than I was. I even had a male subordinate tell me that I needed to “show him more respect,” and that by expecting that he do his job without complaining, I was somehow shattering his worldview in which he was the center of attention. Society has told men all their lives that they had the right to be leaders, the privilege to speak for the group.

Meanwhile society told me, my sister, and every female friend I’ve ever had that we should be seen, not heard. Women are meant to be consumed in our society, we’re meant to be pretty, quiet, passive little creatures. And slowly without realizing it, I began to accept these views as truths. I began to let my boyfriend light the fires, even though I was no less capable or knowledgeable.

And this my friends, is where I get to the point. I think women need to take every opportunity they can to be placed in a position to lead. Whether that be through solo adventures, or with groups of women. This is the real power of solo female travel, and female-only spaces and events. They’re not meant to be exclusionary to men, they’re intended to show women how much power and competence they have. When you’re by yourself, or surrounded by other women, there are no societal pressures to cede your power to a man, you have to learn to suck it up and become the leader you already are, use the skills you already have, build the fucking fire you already know how to build!

Heading into Blue Canyon and the true backcountry.

So Wait, How Do I Actually Build A Fire?
Building a fire is really not as hard as people make it out to be, but it does take some practice to get right. Here are the six steps I follow every time:

Fires are cool kids. Just remember to put them out fully.

1) Prep.
Look around your campsite and gather the following: kindling, in the form of dry leaves, small dry twigs, and or dry pine needles. Why do I feel the need to keep saying ‘dry’? Because it’s going to make this whole process a heck of alot easier and faster. You’ll also need second stage burners. These are sticks that are about a thumb thick, and 7-18 inches long. Last you’ll need your big logs, think larger than your forearm, smaller than your thigh. Gather lots of the above… and by lots I mean double what you think you’ll need.

2) Build your base.
I know everybody wants that picturesque tee-pee fire like you’re used to seeing on TV, but it’s not a very effective way to start. The easiest way is to build a lean-to fire. Take one of your big logs that will fit in your fire pit and lay it flat on the bottom of the pit. Next pile your kindling next to the middle of the log in the bottom of the pit along with some small sticks propped up against the log. This gives your kindling air-flow, and positions a big log to start burning right away.

3) Light your kindling.
Have your matches/lighter and your kindling as well as small sticks and second stage burners all on hand. Light a small section of your kindling on fire and blow to spread the flames.

4) Move fast.
Once your kindling is lit, you want to start throwing on lots of kindling quickly, followed by the second stage burners, and one big log. One of the biggest bits of misinformation I hear thrown around is that you’ll smother your fire. You won’t. Your fire is more likely to go out because it didn’t have enough to burn. Throw a bunch of your little sticks and kindling in there, and once those are lit throw on a few of the mid-size sticks. The kindling will burn bright and hot, but not for very long, so you need to take advantage of the burning kindling to ignite your larger logs.

5) Time for the Big Guns.
Once your mid-sized sticks are fully burning, throw in one or two of the big logs, using the base log in the bottom of the pit to prop them up, to allow air to circulate, and give the fire someplace to go. (Remember: Fire burns up, not down).

6) Tend.
A fire isn’t a one and done. You’ll need to be placing new logs on the fire, moving the existing ones around, and tending to it. The good news is, as an over-stimulated millenial, this will give you something to play with since your phone won’t have service to refresh your Twitter feed.

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Monday Action Post – March 13

Look, the world seems messed up and scary right now, it’s crazy and I totally hear you. I also know that it can seem so overwhelming to reach out and do something without any guidance on how best to spend your time, efforts, and energy. Again, I totally get it. But let’s make a collective move from Freakout-Ville and take the productivity train to Change-Town! It will be fun, I promise.

Each Monday I’ll be doing a quick post that helps you get involved, and better yet, gives you an asset or information for something you can do right now.

This week, I’m not pulling any fucking punches. President Trump has repeatedly shown that he views women as less than human, less than deserving of medical care that treats them in their entirety. And you know what? Reproductive health is human health. And sometimes that health means getting an abortion.

Our president, serving on behalf of right-wing religious groups, has taken steps to limit access to health care and reproductive health care for people in this country and outside of it. Remember, this is the man who signed the Mexico City policy back into effect as one of his first actions in office. You can read more about that here. It’s for these reasons and others that I want to draw your attention to an organization that is working to protect and facilitate access to reproductive rights.

Donate to The National Network of Abortion Funds, an organization that works to remove the financial barriers that some women face when seeking an abortion. Another good option is donating to Planned Parenthood who have been under repeated attack from our government, despite the fact that offering abortions is only a small portion of their mission.

Remember, reproductive rights, are women’s rights. Women are humans. Thus, reproductive rights are human rights. So don’t let president cheeto take that away from you.

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A Dumpster-Fire of Joy

I think we’ve all seen those commercials for Las Vegas. Lots of pretty, generic-looking women, decked out in ankle-breaking heels and sequined dresses. You know the ones. Groups of Jersey Shore rejects dancing to top 40 songs, drinking Malibu, and pretending that they’re having a wild and crazy experience. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas they say, pretending for just a minute that they’re not going to spray this all over Instagram the second their hangover let’s them look at their phones again. This is the time of your life! Aren’t you wild! they say.

Those ads are bullshit. If you want to see some wild crap, spend a weekend in the woods with the raging freak-show that is a Purdue Outing Club reunion or, POC for short. I’ve spend three such weekends with these loveable weirdos, and let me tell you, they’re one David Attenborough voice-over from something you’d see on Discovery channel. And I mean that in the best way possible.

The view from our cabin.

* The names of people have been omitted because, let’s face it, your mom probably doesn’t want to know that you ate an Oreo out of your boyfriend’s butt crack (note: this was not me).

**What, did you think I was fucking kidding when I said these weekends we’re debaucherous? POC don’t play around when it comes to truth or dare. 

When I think of my undoing that weekend, it all comes back to a single contraption, brought to the party by an endearingly sadistic POC-er. Picture a hastily-made miniature wheel of fortune in which the only outcomes are either increased alcohol consumption, or public humiliation. You know, like playing russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. It’s fun.

The evening started off innocuously enough, with a fully-nude hot tub session in which we managed to cram 15 grown-ass adults into a single tub. I’ve never been entirely sure where the propensity for nudity came from at POC reunions, but it’s safe to say that anybody who has attended one has been subject to at least one accidentally seen asshole. Or, as might be the case from my first POC reunion, the asshole you’re trying not to stare into like the Eye of Sauron from the Lord of the Rings, is being intentionally displayed for your viewing pleasure. My precioussssssssss…..

Anyway.

The night began to unspool in an endless stream of drinks, laughter, magical hamburgers, and spin after spin on the drink-wheel-0f-torture/fun. People swirl in and out of the room. Another hot-tub session is instigated. A man takes a naked lap around the house in the snow. Then a woman does the same. Shots are taken off of previously-unthought of body parts. The man that I love shotguns a beer like a champ. People cheer. Clothes are swapped and then swapped again until the women in the room look like Tom-Boy children and the men strut around the room in skin-tight yoga pants. I laugh until tears stream down my face and I cannot breathe. Everyone in the room is hysterically, and unendingly funny.

The next day we’ll get up and hike to a lookout high above the verdant Washington forrest. We’ll sit around eating cold leftover hamburgers as our hangovers leach out of us into the cool Washington air. That night we’ll do it all again. On Monday we’ll ski, making lap after lap through the powder  which barely conceals the blue ice, working feverishly for a few good turns each run, and raucously cheering on our fellow skiers from the chairlift in a way that is hilarous only to us.

On Tuesday morning I’ll return to Los Angeles where people will ask me how my weekend was. I’ll say it was fine. Fun. We went skiing. The askers will smile in a vague sort of way and the conversation will move on. In truth, I barely have the words to explain these POC reunions. I’m stuck relying on a phrase, drunkenly uttered into the dark amongst friends and half-strangers in a hot tub. It’s like a dumpster-fire of joy.

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Monday Action Post – March 6, 2017

Look, the world seems messed up and scary right now, it’s crazy and I totally hear you. I also know that it can seem so overwhelming to reach out and do something without any guidance on how best to spend your time, efforts, and energy. Again, I totally get it. But let’s make a collective move from Freakout-Ville and take the productivity train to Change-Town! It will be fun, I promise.

Each Monday I’ll be doing a quick post that helps you get involved, and better yet, gives you an asset or information for something you can do right now.

This week I want to draw your attention to something really cool that my cousin and her husband launched in early 2017 with the hopes of making political activism easy. Like, super easy. Like, there is really no reason not to take action, easy.

A trip to YouLoby.org goes something like this: you are prompted to enter your zip code, this you are directed to a page where you can select the issue you’re interested in talking to your representatives about. Topics include: LGBTQIA rights, Climate Change, the Travel Ban, and Women’s Rights, along with a handful more. You’re then provided with the contact names of your representatives, and a script, yes a script, so if you really hate talking on the phone, or are just unsure of what to say, they’ve got you covered. And here is the really nifty thing, the script actually changes based on who your reps are. Calling a Republican who voted for DeVos? They got you. Or maybe, you’re in a Democratic state with Democratic reps and you still want to make your voice heard? Yeah, there’s a script for that too. It’s literally, and I mean literally in the literal sense of the word, so simple that you have exactly zero excuse not to do it.

And while I’m here, I’d like to mention that today might be a very good day to call your reps about education, as Republicans just introduced a bill to Congress that could very well affect the future of education in this country. You can learn more about that here.

Bonus Reading: This article from Rolling Stone is crazy-town banana-pants about a group of Americans who are abroad right now fighting extremists in Syria.