For the last three or so years, I have turned to hiking and backpacking as a way to reconnect with myself through nature and adventure. I don't believe in "perfection". But if "perfect" does exist, then nature is pretty damn close to being just that. Get on a trail with my hydration pack and a Ziploc bag of gummy bears, and I'm ready to surround myself with the things so ripe with beautiful detail, that I can't help but be lost in appreciation for them.
I mean, have you ever just sat and stared at a waterfall? Examined the intricate veins on a maple leaf? Looked at a crack in a rock and wondered which force caused it to get there?
That's me. Big, ol' dork for nature me. And thankfully, I have girlfriends who want to take a dozen pictures of baby snakes and climb on oak trees and go barefoot in mountain streams with me. Makes the backpacking life that much sweeter.
Some of my other friends say that backpacking is too much moleskin and not enough air conditioning. Totally get that. You're pretty much spending gobs of time and money to be temporarily homeless. And I appreciate the satisfaction of returning to all the comforts after you've been deprived for a few days, like shampoo and microwavable meals. But in carrying the weight of survival objects, being co-dependent on your fellow hikers for treated water and compostable toilet paper, and enduring ailments on the trail, you learn more about your personal strengths and limitations. That is the kind of self-learning that you don't always get in a session with the therapist you regularly see.
It also makes you feel like a total badass.
And extra points for being a mom who engages badass adventures.
I will say, though, that with as much as I yearn to add more geographical locations where I've pitched my tent, I was taught a lesson in "knowing when to relax" the summer of 2018 when I planned a camping trip with a friend who had never been.
This friend has a daughter who is best friends with mine. So I wanted to take a mother-daughter camping trip to the coast with our friends. The mom is one of the aforementioned friends who loves air conditioning. But after a little arm twisting and telling her if she was ever going to try camping that I was her best bet, she gave a nervous YOLO-type response.
YES!
Two nights of making memories camping on a coastal island with moms and daughters in the summer? I was ready for this badass adventure! And I'd get to share all the little camping hacks and fireside meals with newbies.
Except, it didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped.
It was June. It was Georgia. Do I even need to explain the consequences of a heat, humidity, and mosquito cocktail to anyone reading this?
Didn't think so.
We had hoped the campfire would keep the bugs away. The growing collection of swelling bumps on our girls' legs proved otherwise. Showers at the campground bathhouse were supposed to help refresh us. But when the air is so thick, the skin starts to feel slimy within minutes of exposure. And because trips always test everyone's patience, we found that our daughters' best friend status was challenged due to general crankiness from the elements.
We also thought that if we just went to sleep, that our circumstances would somehow be better in the morning. That was until a mischievous pack of raccoons decided to stage a coup to obtain the bag of pistachios I left on our picnic table. I was impressed at how chill my friend was being while we watched the bastards run the bag of nuts up a tree and stare us down with our phone lights pointing directly at them.
But I knew the adventure was over. She wanted air conditioning. I wanted to keep our friendship. So I suggested a hotel for the second night.
We broke camp the next morning for a fast food breakfast and the search for a reservation. It didn't take long to find one, but check-in wouldn't be for hours. So we left our car at the hotel where we would be staying, packed a cooler of beer and sandwiches, and then parked ourselves on the beach.
Only a few minutes into watching our girls play in the sand while we sipped cold Coronas did I realize that I hadn't had a trip like this in ages. A trip where I allowed myself the chance to sit back and actually relax. All of the adventures I had been on were ones where I planned for miles hiked per day and who would carry the stove fuel and if we wanted to hire a shuttle driver to a trailhead. All the stuff that I thought I needed to be a badass (or a badass mom) more or less flowed out of my mind, replaced by breezy salt air and the scent of Hawaiian Tropic. There was absolutely nothing wrong with spending hours in the pool or loving our rain shower in the hotel room.
And there were no raccoons to steal our nuts.
For the rest of our trip, we did everything by the seat of our pants. Feeling like ice cream? There's a parlor walking distance from the hotel. Salt-rim margarita with dinner and hot dog baskets for the kids on a beachside patio? Hell to the yes! Sparklers after dark? Let's bring five boxes to burn.
Despite the outcome being different from what I had envisioned, it was still a badass trip. We were a couple of badass mothers creating joy and long-lasting memories for our daughters. It just happened in a way that I had forgotten my mind and heart appreciated.
I'm grateful for the badass friends who hike the trail with me to grow through facing self-sought challenges. But I'm also grateful for the badass friends who bring me back to a place of relaxation and a little pampering.
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