Thinking about Trash

The day begins as my idea of paradise.  We emerge from the bunkhouse before dawn and gather to watch the sky transform.  It's impossible to pinpoint just when the clouds start light up with silver or when the red glow above the horizon turns to purple with splashes of orange.  Our faces turn upward as the first rays peak over the horizon behind silhouettes of dancing trees.  The sound of laughter and oh's and ah's.  I am left with a deep sense of peace and awe at the natural world, and I feel lucky to be able to witness such beauty.

Solar panels on top of the Hike Inn

The Trail Dames are visiting the Len Foote Hike Inn at Amicalola Falls State Park, a eco-friendly lodge accessible only by 5 mile trail.  An entire building set up on stilts as if it were literally walking gently on the earth.  Solar panels, composting toilets, worms in the basement to eat our kitchen scraps.  In an effort to make us more aware, at meals we are asked to only put onto our plate what we will eat.  The goal is to minimize the wasted food, and to think about where our food comes from and the energy that goes into bringing it to the table.  A board in the dining room proclaims the daily totals; we've learned our lesson- ZERO ounces waste for the Trail Dames.

I am loving all this talk about sustainable living.  I try to do my part for the environment:  taking the bus to work (though it takes much more time), driving a hybrid car, and obsessing over things like keeping the thermostat turned down.  Sometimes I've taken it a bit too far.  Back in grad school, in an effort to save money, we canceled our home garbage pickup and hauled our own trash to the dump.  I became aware of every item I placed into the trash.  I started buying in bulk, choosing things in recyclable packaging or without packaging, or just not buying certain things.  Food scraps were diverted into the compost.  I began washing and reusing plastic bags.  I realized I'd never really paid attention to trash-- it was always something that just disappeared.  I started imagining trash as earth's resources and energy being literally wasted.  And being at the Hike Inn was really reinforcing that lesson.

I take the long way from the Hike Inn back to Amicalola Falls, and turn up towards the mountains, as the Trail Dames all head for home.  I climb deeper into forest, up the Approach Trail, and find silence, solitude.  As I get closer to Springer Mountain, the snow deeps, until it's blanketing the forest.  I arrive at the summit to find I have the whole place to myself.  There is something sacred about this place where so many dreams begin.  I spend a few moments lost in thought, imagining the AT stretching out before me for miles and miles, before I turn around and head back down the way I came.

Snowy quiet on the Approach Trail.

I decide to stop to have lunch at Black Gap shelter.  In contrast to the stark whiteness of the snow, bright color catches my eye.  At first, I think there must be someone there.  But upon closer examination, I find the shelter and surrounding area are littered in trash and discarded gear.  The peace of the forest is shattered for me.  Did something happen to someone?  If someone was returning for all this stuff, why did they leave it lying around instead of hanging it on the bear cables?  I make up all sorts of stories in my head, my imagination running wild.

Black Gap Shelter

I collect the soiled food wrappers and empty cans and bottles, stuffing my backpack to the brim, leaving the foam pads, camelbak just in case, and head back down the trail.

Back at the visitor's center, I ask about the trashed shelter.  The rangers aren't surprised, and say people leave the shelters a mess all the time.  I stare at them blankly, horrified.  How could that be?  Out here in these beautiful woods!  All the trash is an eyesore, spoiling the illusion of a pristine forest?!?  And don't they know how human food changes animal behavior, making them acclimatized to humans and putting them at risk?  Then, I wonder if I'm being judgmental and I tell myself not to judge other people.  Who knows why they left all that trash in the shelter.  I wish I could understand what they were thinking.

Arabia Mountain

This is the special place I return to over and over: Arabia Mountain.   It is familiar, yet never fails to surprise me.  I know its trails and often head off cross-country exploring hill and valley.  I go there when I'm feeling sick and lie down to feel the earth solid beneath me.  I go there when I'm restless and need to move fast and pay attention to nothing but the breeze through my hair and the pounding of my feet.  I got there when I'm confused and disorientated and need to have the open sky and to see forever so I can feel small and insignificant and grounded.  Each season brings a new surprise.

Winter

Spring

Fall

 

Note: Thanks to SHOE for the inspiration for this post.

Riot Grrrl

I just finished reading "Girls to the Front: The True Story of the Riot Grrrl Revolution" by Sara Marcus.  Riot Grrrl was a group I was part of during high school, and this book got me thinking about how important being part of all-female communities has been to me.

Back in high school, I didn't feel like I fit in.  I hid behind green hair and combat boots.  Then I found Riot Grrrl, an inspiring group of women who were courageous, proud, and defined for themselves what it means to be female in our culture.  It was a relief to find other people who valued creating one's own way in life, and being true to oneself rather than trying to fit in cookie-cutter molds of what society expects of young women.  I went to their to meetings, punk rock shows, and co-wrote a zine (a DIY, magazine that we xeroxed and stapled, and traded through the mail and at shows).  In our zine, I did artwork and wrote about being in high school, about activism and politics and social issues, and about struggling with my sexual orientation.  I knew I was part of something amazing when I got letters back from other girls across the country and world who'd read my zine and shared their own experiences with me.

The cover of the zine I wrote in high school.  Cover art by yours truly.

I guess it's no coincidence that now I am part of Trail Dames (and that I've started this blog).  Despite being totally different on the surface, I've noticed a few similarities in what I've found in these two groups-- the supportive environments in otherwise male-dominated spheres, the independent women, the acceptance of a diversity of people.  Funny how I never noticed this repeating pattern in my life of what I was doing in writing this blog and doing the zine until I read this book.  I guess writing about my experiences helps me to understand my life and connect with people who read it.

So even if you've never heard of Riot Grrrl, but are looking for a good, inspiring book about women seeking and creating community, check this out!  It was an engaging story, and seamlessly wove in details about the cultural and politics of the early 90's to provide the context for the movement.  (Though of course I am biased because Sara, the author, was a friend in high school and I did this zine with her.  Plus, Riot Grrrl changed my life!)

Things I want to do in the New Year

For the last two years, I've listed things I want to do in the New Year.  Two years ago, I decided I wanted to learn to backpack.  Well, obviously, I did that, and got hooked.  Last year, I decided I would work on planning and training for a long-distance hike.  Definitely did that, though I don't know when I'm going to use my new knowledge.  So this year, I've got three things I want to do related to my hobbies:

1.  Hike twenty miles in one day.  My intention is to build my endurance and keep pushing myself.

2.  DIY gear and projects.  I want to craft more of my gear myself, and work on modifying and improvising using things I already have or can get inexpensively.

3.  Build strong enough abs and arms to do two moves in my aerial fabrics class: the windmill hipkey and pulling up into a backbalance.  In the meantime, I resolve to practice not comparing myself to my classmates (who can all do these moves) and feeling bad about myself for not being able to do these tricks. 

Anyone else have goals for the New Year?

More big trees

On my holiday out West, I encountered a few more big trees to add to my list of favorites:

7. Torrey Pines are the rarest native pine trees and grow on the hillsides above the Pacific Ocean north of San Diego.  Torrey Pines State Reserve, California.

I'm a treehugger.

8. Fremont cottonwoods along the San Pedro River in Arizona.

These massive trees are a bit much to get your arms around.

9.  Saguaro cactus tower above the landscape of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Arizona.

Despite being a bit spiny, but this one hugs me back with massive arms.

What a way to end 2010!  Happy New Year Everyone!  And a special thank you to my folks for a fantastic trip!

Christmas Eve Hike in Arizona

Today is Christmas Eve and I am in Sierra Vista, Arizona with my parents visiting my Grandpa and Grandma.  And lucky for me, whenever I visit my parents, we always hike.  And they have a flair for picking some really beautiful trails, today's hike being no exception.

We left my Grandparents in town because they had things to do, and we headed for the mountains.  From town, it was only a 15 minute drive to the trailhead at Ramsey Canyon in the Huachuca Mountains.  What a contrast from the cactus and scrub desert of the valley!  The canyon is lush forest with a clear creek running through.  We passed ruins of cabins built at the turn of the century, and an enormous, sprawling tree even more ancient- it had been dated to 1760!

Arizona sycamore from 1760

 Then, leaving the creek, the trail switchbacked up the side of the mountain, and eventually opened up at a viewpoint where we could see the town spreading across the valley below in one direction, and high cliffs rising up in the other. 

What a lunch spot

My parents at the spring

After taking a much needed break for lunch, we convinced Mom to continue on for a bit longer, and good thing we did!  We passed by a spring filled with water striders (how could Arizona be so GREEN?!), and then descended to the stream again, which cascaded over boulders, beneath trees still holding onto the last of their orange and red leaves (how could it still be late fall here?!).

The trail kept climbing up the canyon, and my parents decided to head back.  I continued on up the trail by myself.  I stopping to chat with a couple who were just coming down after doing a loop up to the top of the mountain, and hearing their description of the views, I longed to continue on.  The couple was also carrying a huge bag of trash that they'd picked up on their hike.  Apparently, many people come across the boarder here from Mexico, and leave behind things from their journey as they cross these rugged mountains. 

I continued along up the trail, picking up the pace and getting into the flow of the hike, crisscrossing the stream several times, basking in the warm glow of the sun as it shown down through the golden leaves.  Finally, I turned around too, since I'd told my parents I'd only be half and hour behind them.  But I told myself that some day I'd return to climb up to the top, when I could plan ahead for a longer hike.  The timing worked out almost perfectly,  and I caught up with my folks again at the last half mile of the hike.

I was astonished at the lushness of the forest here in Arizona, and love hiking in mountains with peaks over 8000 feet!  When I hike in the North Georgia mountains, I usually feel content and find the unique beauty of the Appalachinan mountains.  But being out West, these steep and dramatic mountains remind me that there are landscapes out here that can stir my soul even more, and that there are ecosystems full of plants and birds and bugs that are fascinating and unfamiliar.  It makes me long to leave my home and venture out to more unknown mountains. 

Decisions (Part 2)

After deciding to delay my hike this year, that little nagging voice in my head started questioning, "What if you don't hike until next year, or the year after?  What if you end up unhappy, working nonstop for the rest of your life trudging along the strait and narrow path, never having followed your dreams?"  It didn't feel like I was making a decision I'd regret, but I kept thinking of my past tendencies to avoid change, and wondered if I was making the decision for the wrong reasons.

To clear my mind, I headed up to Amicalola Falls State Park.  Even though Springer Mountain is the official start of the Appalachian Trail, for me, the AT begins behind the Visitor's Center at the arch marking the start of the Approach Trail.  I'd hiked there countless times, but as I bounded along up the trail, I realized I'd never hiked here solo.  Words are inadequate to describe to you the freedom I felt and the clarity I gained hiking at this special place.  I was totally unencumbered, despite carrying my full pack (yippee!).  I was soaring, despite the steepness of the trail (ha!).  Even though this part of the park is normally busy, I was there so early that I was totally alone climbing up the Approach Trail from the visitor's center all along the stream and up the falls.  It was absolutely magical, with ice formations along the falls, the smell of the winter air, the stillness.  I was free to go my very own long-legged pace, and realized I usually don't allow myself to just fly. 

Empty trail, icy Amicalola Falls.

And it was such a relief to just hike for the pure pleasure of it.  Not to be in training mode, not to be thinking of my gear or technique or what I'd read about backpacking on a listserv or the internet, not to be scouting a hike.  All my thoughts just fell away.  I was just there, taking it all in, feeling the trail beneath my feet.  I relished my freedom, skipping when I felt like it, twirling in happiness.  It was a clear day, and there were plenty of winter views through the trees.  I passed by familiar trees, and my favorite spot where all the pink lady slipper orchids bloom in the spring.  I thought about them, lying there dormant, waiting for a different season.

I had planned on stopping for lunch at the Hike Inn, but when I arrived there, the place was teeming with people, and the warmth felt oppressive, so I escaped down the trail to eat by myself out under the sky on a cold log.  Hiking along, mile after mile, hour after hour in solitude, I thought about the times I'd hiked this Approach Trail in early spring when it was crowded with thru hikers.  How I'd cut short a backpacking trip then because I didn't enjoy having so many people around, and instead headed over to quieter mountain.  I realized that it might suit me to delay my trip to avoid the bulk of the thru hikers.

It also was totally clear to me that I wasn't making the decision out of fear of change.  I was choosing one path that brought me excitement and joy.  I still feel committed to my long-distance hike, but I want to do it when the time feels right to me.  And in the meantime, I will keep hiking.