I am the laziest of bums today. But then, that’s what I’m told zeros are for. If you’re not walking, you’re lazing like a kitty caught in a sunbeam.
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Month: August 2015
Day Seven – Frisco
Sleeping in this morning – Sarah, Jane and I only have seven miles to make before we reach the bus to Frisco – is glorious. I’m a Snorlax at heart, and this made my large, sleepy heart so, so happy. Even with my extended unconsciousness, I’m out before Sarah and Jane, who encourage me to go on ahead, which I feel weird about. We’re all pretty much out of water, though, so I agree to meet them at the next water source, where hopefully I’ll have had time to purify some before they arrive.
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Day Six – Miles and Motivation
My alarm goes off early, 5-something. I wanted to get up early, but my sleep-addled brain thinks the moose will hear, and I shut it off since it’s still dark outside and there may be moose lurking out there. I’m actually awake at 6, out of camp by 6:30. Never have I been motivated to move so fast.
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Day Five – Georgia Prep
I spend a cold night in what I discover to be my u-shaped tent spot. Not wet; I’ve got a pretty baller shelter, but cold nonetheless. It’s hard to hear because of the rain and the nearby stream, but I wake up to a rat’s silhouette clinging to the outside of my tent. Twice. Good to know that my Tarptent is marginally rat claw-proof.
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Day Four – Feeling Good
I hear Tim and Chase rustling early, and I’m glad for the wake-up call. 6:30. Getting better. It’s a bright, normal morning, belying the crazy weather of the previous evening, and I’m vaguely suspicious of what’s to come.
I finish my ravioli with little problem, and am moving by 7:15. Getting better all around. Continue reading
Day Three – The Big Wind Blows
I manage to get up earlier today. My alarm goes off at 51, but I’m “conscious” at 6:30. I’m feeling the effects of last night’s lack of food, and simultaneously feeling like the nonono cat when faced with the prospect of actually eating. So I try to distract myself with other things: treating more water, doing trail laundry, eating more snickers, digging another cathole just in case.
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Day Two – Second Verse…
It’s late when I finally find the courage to move, test out my legs, my erstwhile stomach. 7:15. I’m an achy mess, and looking at food makes me nauseous again, so I opt to skip the oatmeal and poptarts in lieu of a Snickers1. I down another liter and a half of water as I pack up a tent wet from last night’s rain, make my way down to the South Platte for more sustenance. It’s 9am by the time I treat my water, choke down poptarts in spite of myself, and make my way uphill again.
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Day One – And So It Begins
The hardest part about starting wasn’t the 4am wake-up after an evening of burgers and cupcakes with friends, or the constant worrying about whether I’d forgotten anything, or the wondering what the next month, hell, day, was going to hold.
The hardest part was rounding a bend in the road and seeing the sign: Waterton Canyon Recreation Area, Colorado Trail.
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More Than Me
So in planning this whole thruhiking endeavor, I’ve been well aware of how selfish it is. I have few illusions about my endeavor; my fiscal ability to escape, to (literally) walk away from the problems plaguing Black and Brown folk, is an indicator of my privilege1. And while this blog, I hope, is indicative of my attempts to stay engaged in/with the struggle for equality – or at least to push for it in other arenas – I thought I’d try to do something a little more potent, too.
As such, I’ve set up a CrowdRise fundraiser for Big City Mountaineers. BCM is a Denver(-ish) based non-profit that works to get urban, at-risk (read: primarily Brown) teens into the backcountry, so they can get a second to breathe, to collect themselves, before heading back into the fray. People who travel, who move, often get a better sense of the bigger picture: it opens their minds to possibilities beyond what they know. There’s a reason myopia is a disease, and I want to help afford these young adults the opportunity to both broaden their perspectives and give them a chance to focus on themselves, away from others who police their bodies, tell them who they should be and how.
Getting outdoors has been healing for me – I’ve found in the mountains a place where I just get to be me, away from all the politics and presuppositions around my skin color. And while I’d argue no escape can or should be permanent, if you’re up for giving these kids a break, please consider donating. They’ll have the rest of their lives to live the struggle.
[1] Along with the initially-ambiguous nature of my ethnicity, my cis-gender, my able-bodiedness, arguably my nationality… I pulled a pretty okay birth card, all things considered.
Mother Dearest
Momma1,
I wanted to talk to you about our recent phone conversation. Among the many things we chatted about – and agreed and disagreed on – concerning my upcoming Colorado Trail thruhike attempt, the thing you said that stuck with me the most was a simple, four word sentence:
“I can’t stop you.”
I think it was so potent because I’ve never heard you say anything like it. You’ve always been if not entirely enthusiastic, at least supportive of everything I’ve done. And it’s different and weird and I wanted to try to explain myself a little better. Continue reading
Brown Girl on the NST 