exploring the trails while living out of a tent
I spent a week in Iceland this spring, almost on accident. When I was searching for flights to Switzerland last fall I realized it was cheaper to fly through Iceland on Iceland Air than directly to mainland Europe. The airline’s website didn’t have to do much prompting to get me to book a “stayover” for the full 7 days. Once my flight was booked I spent a few months talking Robb into coming along to explore the island. Eventually, he gave in.
The one place it is perfectly acceptable to sit on the floor near a trash can is in an airport. Or that’s what I tell myself. For some silly reason 90% of the available outlets are always on those pillars surrounded by trash + recycling bins. From an architectural stand point, I guess that makes sense. From a self-respect + dignity stand point, not so much. Lucky for the batteries of my electronics, I’m not exactly overflowing with either self-respect of dignity!
There are a bajillion + a half blog posts, articles + flashy insta-stories out there telling you how to properly, safely + comfortably go on a yurt trip. So, for the sake of trying something new, let’s talk about all the things you can do wrong while venturing out to a remote mountain yurt or cabin. The fact we just recently did all of the following things [over the course of four trips, the only reason we’re still alive] has nothing to do with my motivation to overshare this list. Probably. Not.
I live a pretty cyclical life — my summers are spent roaming the country + world while my winters are spent working my leggings off in a resort town. This lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to a small, close-knit group of friends due to constant movement + a crazy work schedule. Instead, it gives me the opportunity to meet all sorts of awesome people that float through my life from time to time. Every once in a while a handful of these cool kids get the same days off work. This happened last month [after a lot of co-worker bribery]. To celebrate we headed into the backwoods of Northern Colorado for our version of “girl’s weekend”.
The best life lessons are learned in the wilderness, right?!
Such as “if it makes your heart flutter, do it” + “just huck yourself over the edge + hope for the best”.
These are the life lessons you’ll come upon when you lug a snow tube along the ridge of the Continental Divide trail on Loveland Pass. The guys were up there the week before with pristine conditions — fluffy snow + full coverage. We were not so lucky this time around. Instead of being greeted with a mountain cloaked in fresh snow we were staring down at a rocky, bare slope with patches of snow. This was our launching point. We had two choices — huck our bodies over the edge + hope we’d manage to stay atop our tube or turn back.
There are many ways to escape cell service. The most logical one is to just shut off your phone. But, what fun is that? A much more exciting way to escape cell service is to run off into the wilderness + pretend adult responsibilities don’t exist for a full 48 hours. That’s the way we did it…
A whole eight weeks ago I waxed poetically about running, just because. I talked about getting back into the running bit on my own terms. Running when I wanted to, hiking when I could + using Max as my excuse to get outside. Ha. Yea…no. That is not what happened. Instead, I’ve completely forgotten how to run.
There is a first time for everything…the first big snow of the season, your first time snowshoeing, being the first to break trail, first time out to Lily Pad Lake. First times are fun, ask anyone who’s survived the rush of trying something new. However, there seems to be a tipping point. Add enough first times to the same experience + it goes from being exciting to exhausting rather quickly. Last week, we found that tipping point!
Oh me, oh my. It has been far too long since I’ve had an opportunity to wander off into the wilderness simply because it was out there + waiting for me. Winter is finally here + the time suck that is a job is finally in full swing. I’m back to working 50-70 hours a week between both jobs. It’s really not that bad, but it is time consuming. Once I add in the time I spend commuting on the bus 4-5 days a week + the long hours of wintery darkness my window of opportunity to get outside has narrowed. A lot. Of course, this is all my own doing + it was fully expected, yet the reality check of how little time I have to roam after a summer dedicated to roaming it’s not an easy pill to swallow.
Did you know the pacific northwest is full of volcanoes + craters, courtesy of a very explosive history with Mother Nature? Yea, it is. I mean, I survived high school, I do have some smarts so I am aware of the fact there is a lot of tectonic activity on the west coast. I just had no idea how much volcanic activity there was over here + how much it affected the landscape. Here, let me show you…