there is this thing called planning... some people do it to make themselves feel more self-confident, assured, safe. i have no idea what this is all about. things related to personal security i only know the meaning of once i have pushed myself to the brink of my limits, maybe even beyond its limits... and then had the courage to accept the lessons such life-threatening experiences offer.
one of my first of such life-threatening/enhancing experiences was when i lived in france: i slept in a phone booth once because my friend and i did not have enough money for a hotel room. we called my parents from that phone booth to let them know 'things were alright'. lessons learned: do not sleep in phone-booths, they are terribly cramped, and offer little safety, especially if the phone booth is riddled with bullet-holes; and never call your parents from the phone booth you are sleeping in.
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| the hangover after a night in a french phonebooth |
another example: one time my friend and i decided to go to yellowstone national park after a night of whimsical thoughts brought on by too much whiskey. the next day, i spent packing and 'planning' our trip... i should have known better. every plan i made soon backfired, from my pre-set ipod playlists (the car's ipod hitch was screwy), to our campsites (all the campsites were full). even my bugspray backfired on me, it turns out yellowstone mosquitoes are actually mini blood-sucking dinosaurs that are hardly fooled by burt's bees recipe for bug repellent. of course, because luck would have it no other way, the only available campsite was one that was half-way submerged in water due to the summer's heavy snow melts, that was also home to the velotser raptor breed of mosquitos. even with sweatpants, wool ski socks, hiking boots, monkey fur, gloves, and a wool cap on (in 70 degree weather), the little monsters were STILL able to bite me! at night, my friend (who survived a terrible case of dinge fever while in africa) would do mosquito raids, spending 30 minutes searching our 12 square feet of tent space for each and every trace of bug, squishing each one as violently as possible, with a screams of joy. lessons learned: book your summer trip to yellowstone more than 1 day in advance, do not try to go on a 10+ hour roadtrip without an ipod, and burt's bees bug-repellent is not adequate for the sub-species of reptilian mosquitoes that inhabit yellowstone.
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| the view of the tetons from our first campsite |
i think a safe conclusion here is that although i do learn from my mistakes, i am still irrepressibly impulsive, and increasingly impatient with things like timing, preparation, and general foresight.
i was recently reminded of my impulsive and irresponsible nature just yesterday, when i woke up with the urge to climb a mountain. this is really nothing new to me, but the urge i felt yesterday came to me as low, gray clouds and freezing temperatures brought the western virginia her first snowstorm. i am blaming colorado for these sudden outbreaks of snow-fever... only the rockies could be the source of my deep desire to run, ski, and climb mountains at the first sight of snow. so i called up my brother at 9am: "do you want to go hiking?" luckily, he was still asleep, and had not looked out his window yet. "sure!" was his response at the time, but as we were packing up to leave, i could tell he had no idea what he was in for. i actually had no idea either... but we sure found out quickly what an adventure was to be had!
first things first: when you leave on a trip, where is the first place you should go? answer: a gas station. where was the first place i went? starbucks. where were we 30 miles after starbucks? in the middle of nowhere with no gas. we only passed 3 gas stations on our way to the trail at white oak canyon... but alas, we arrived in syria, va with the needle resting just two-hairs above empty. i knew we had to get gas, or else we would only be further in the wilderness without any options. so on to madison we went... or i should say, up to madison we went. the '96 jeep cherokee country lurched up the mountain for 11 miles, until the needle sagged desperately below empty. i began to pray to god that this was not the end of us... i made my brother recite 'hail marys' all the way up the hill... we eventually (16 miles later) made it to the nearest gas station, on the wrong side of town. here is a map of exactly how far out of the way we went... given to me somewhat spitefully by my brother:
http://g.co/maps/hzgzj (notice how he had to check "avoid hiways"). while allowing the jeep to gobble up $50 of my wallet, we took a deep sigh of relief, and i admitted to my brother that i could be the worst trip planner ever, and that we had lost all control of the situation. i also admitted that i had forgotten to bring any directions and we would just have to go on my 'instinct' sense to get back to white oak canyon...
it wasn't until mid-afternoon we made it to the trail. at that point, we had seen the morning's snow melt into dismal sleet, and the once white roads turn black again. then, suddenly, as if a sign from above, the sky began to sprinkle down white snowflakes, quickly amounting to billowing winds that frantically blanketed the fields around us with white again. just as we passed the first, last, and only sign to white oak canyon, a fluffy-tailed red fox gallantly hopped by us in one of the snowy fields, as if to say: "you have arrived, the fun is here!"
we pulled into an already softly blanketed parking lot, and parked next to the only other car there. the cold wind welcomed us to one of the most perfect scenes on earth: snow falling gently in a forest, accompanied by the mellifluous crackling of ice cold streams cutting through the mountain's wilderness. we hiked up the mountain in solitude, enjoying the peace and joy of each moment. the cedar run trail we took led us up 3 miles of crooked, rocky, and steep mountainside, with the trail weaving across the stream throughout the hike. lovely waterfalls surprised us at every turn, and as we hiked, the snow became deeper and deeper. the mountain's clouds lifted on the way down, revealing craggy rock faces that were hidden before. every step was a wonderful surprise, up until the very last, when we reached the top of the trail, and i snuck up on a little bobcat stalking a bird! i didn't see the cat, just heard it jump out from under me... apparently neither he nor me were minding each other any attention! i took our run in with wildlife as a good sign it was time to head back down...
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| snow falling in the woods along the cedar run trail |
on our way home, dusk soon enveloped the countryside in a gray-blue shade, highlighting the warm golden glow of farmhouses along the roadside. driving back the way we came, i realized that although i did an absolutely terrible job planning the day, that there was a inherent perfection to the day that i could not even begin to take credit for. the lesson i learned from our trip to white oak canyon was that there are some moments in life that are too perfect, too beautiful, and simply too infinite for us to begin to understand, let alone plan for. surely there is no better 'plan' for such occasions, than
to dive deep into nature.
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| my life partner & adventurer paula and i, with our life motto |
