AMA with AMA: The backpacking trip that changed everything.
Nine days on the Wind River High Route.
Note: this post (as usual) is too long to be contained within the entire e-mail - so make sure to click ‘read more’ at the bottom or listen to the voiceover to hear the whole thing!
Dear AMA,
This is more of a question out of curiosity: Can you talk a bit about your Wind River Range backpacking trip where you had the idea for Kula Cloth?
For anybody who has been following me or Kula for any length of time - you will know that Kula only exists because I started backpacking and ultimately ended up becoming a backpacking instructor for a non-profit called Washington Outdoor Women. My first ‘backpacking’ trip was actually climbing Mt. Baker - which is completely ridiculous, and I would not recommend that to most people. Miraculously, I summitted Mt. Baker (relatively) unscathed and something changed in my heart that day on the summit: I looked around me at the seemingly infinite expanse in every direction and I felt something that I couldn’t articulate - I just knew that I wanted to feel more of it.
In retrospect, I do know what I felt that day - it was a tiny glimpse into the infiniteness of the universe - an infinity that is available to each of us in every single moment. However, at that point in the development of my consciousness, I wasn’t quite ready to discover those moments in ‘everyday life’ … and so I became obsessed with finding it outside. I think this is a common path and trajectory for many people - we discover a hunger for spending more and more time outside - seeking ‘something’ … but never really quite sure what it is. For me, this quest turned into a relatively unhealthy obsession over time - a form of escapism from my failing marriage and problems that were too big for me to ‘handle’. Being outside and away from everything and everybody was the only place that I was able to find stillness. My adventures progressively got more and more challenging as I pushed myself into mindless oblivion. I developed severe anxiety if I didn’t have a trip planned… and I could barely enjoy hiking or backpacking trips while I was on them… because I was already panicking about what my ‘next’ fix would be.
At some point, in 2011 - amidst the unavoidable chaos of my life - I realized that my hiking addiction was not healthy: I went on an epically challenging climbing trip and it took me almost a month to recover physically. My body was telling me very loudly, “THIS IS ENOUGH.” I took a break from hiking and climbing - and resolved to find happiness where I was.
When I met my (now) husband Aaron, I was very excited to have a hiking partner, since my ex had no interest in hiking or climbing during the time that we were together. Aaron and I jumped feet first into climbing - and we climbed all 5 Washington Volcanoes together and spent most of our weekends backpacking or climbing. I cannot possibly count the nights that we spent in a tent together or the number of remote locations that we’ve visited.
When I think back to every single trip we’ve ever done (and there are a lot of them)… one trip stands out above all of them… and it’s actually the trip where the idea for Kula Cloth came to me: The Wind River High Route.
While this route has been completed in a variety of iterations, I was drawn to professional hiker/adventurer Andrew Skurka’s interpretation of the route.
A few of the route specs:
97 miles, with 63 miles (65 percent) of off-trail travel
Two 13’ers plus a 12,259-foot mid-route summit
Nine alpine passes; the highest, Blaurock Pass, is at 12,750 feet
620 vertical feet of change per mile, and a total of 30,000 feet of climbing
Lowest elevation, besides the trailheads: 9,690 feet at Big Sandy Lake
Prior to this trip, the two longest self-supported (i.e. no resupply point) hikes that I had ever completed were 5 nights and 6 days each, and one of those was a loop hike. There is something comforting about knowing that you are, “just making loop”. There is something altogether completely un-comforting about realizing that you have to hike 80 miles (mostly off trail) through mountainous terrain, with no ability to re-supply, to get back to your vehicle. As I sat in the tent that first night before bed, I poured over the nine pages of maps spread out before me. We were currently on page one.
I visualized our arrival back at my car on the final day – goosebumps tingled up my arms and tears burned in my eyes. I could see it. I could feel it. What I couldn’t see was everything in between – the countless challenges that lay ahead, the unknown obstacles that we might encounter, the emotions – misery, triumph, fear, joy – that we would experience together. As hard as I looked at the topo lines on our maps, they were just lines. I wanted them to come to life and whisper to me that we could do this – that my knowledge and training and planning were enough, but that wasn’t for them to tell me. The next 80 miles of hiking would give me that answer, whether I liked it or not.
Leaving the trail is a funny thing. We had maps, we had a compass and a GPS. By all accounts, I would always know exactly where we were – there should have been no difference at all, except there was. A trail not only makes navigation extremely easy (i.e. “WALK HERE”), but it represents something else – it says, “You aren’t alone. Other people have been here. Other people will be here. You’re on the right path.” Off trail, there are very few reassurances – an occasional footprint, a few rocks stacked on top of each other. The confidence that you need to keep moving forward has to blossom from within yourself, rather than from a sense of familiarity with the environment. When there is no trail to trust, you can only trust yourself.
As I may have mentioned before - the Wind River High Route was the backpacking trip where the idea for Kula Cloth was gifted to me. To be very specific - the idea for Kula Cloth came to me on day 7 of the traverse - after we had ascended and descended Blaurock Pass… ascended West Sentinel Pass… crossed the Gannett Glacier and found a tiny patch of earth to nestle our tent in the shadow of Bastion Peak.
To be completely honest, I had forgotten about most of that specifics of that particular day - but I’ve often wondered: “Why? What was it about that day that allowed that idea to arrive?” When I tell the story of that day on the high route - it usually centers around the moment that I hung my blue pee cloth on my trekking pole to take a photograph of it just before sunset. A good friend of mine had taken a photograph of my pee cloth on another climb, and as a joke, I thought it would be funny to take a series of photos of my pee cloth in beautiful locations — hence, the pee cloth photo session. It was in that moment on night 7 of the Wind River High Route traverse that ‘Kula Cloth’ (in its infancy as an idea) arrived.
As I was writing this particular post, I happened upon a piece I had written many years ago when I was describing the trip. In my essay, I’m specifically talking about day 7 of the traverse… and I even include a photograph of me jumping across a little stream of water on the Gannett Glacier - complete with my blue square of fabric ‘pee cloth’ visible in the photo. If only I had known how much my life would change from this one single moment in time.
This is what I wrote about our campsite on the evening that the idea for Kula arrived:
After picking our way through the jumbled rocks for over an hour, we mercifully arrived at a semi-steep ice slope. We strapped on our microspikes, and quickly ascended into a flat area, completely comprised of approximately 400,000,000 rocks. It was nearing the end of the day, and we were anxious to find a campsite. Amazingly, amidst the sea of boulders, we found one patch of sand that was the perfect size for our tent. After setting up, we quickly went to work taking care of our chores for the evening – treating water, bathing and making dinner. As we sat, nibbling on our hot curry, we laughed and reminisced about the day. We were both thrilled with our forward progress, and we had made it further than we expected.
I’m not sure exactly why it happened, but at some point, I looked at the mountains towering around us – I realized where we were – and I was hit, unmistakably, by one thought: We’re going to make it. Every shred of doubt that I had been carrying or worrying about – they were instantly washed away and replaced by an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. As I tried to express what I was feeling to Aaron, I broke down in a laughing fit of tears, “I’m crying!”, I tried to tell to him amidst my laughing, “Don’t you see? We’re doing it – and we’re going to make it!” I tried to explain what this meant to me, but I simply couldn’t find the words. The year of planning and dreaming, the exhausting physical training…the days, hours and miles of hiking. The endless rocks. The exhaustion and fear. The happiness and exhilaration – and having somebody to share those experiences with… the moment of decision to turn back or continue on into the unknown – the culmination of all these thoughts had somehow picked this exact moment to strike. And so, while stuffing a chocolate peanut butter cup into my mouth, and sitting next to my husband after 7 days of the most physically and emotionally taxing hiking that I have ever completed in my life, I buried my head into my hands, and I wept for joy.
As I re-read those words, the memories of that night flooded back to me. Of course the idea for Kula arrived that day. After 7 days of hiking on the trail - my heart had been cracked open. I cried that evening in pure gratitude for life… for love… for the experience of it all - and the powerful emotion that I felt sent out a strong signal to the vast cosmos around me: “Show me something that matches this.” And, hearing my tiny whisper, the universe responded: “You are loved so much, tiny human surrounded by billions of rocks - and you always have been. Here is an idea that matches the gratefulness that you feel right now.”
Of course - I’ve already shared that I got really excited about the idea… and then gave it up for a few years… but, the seed was planted on that trip, and it eventually blossomed enough that it called me back home.
The Wind River High Route was one of the most challenging backpacking trips I’ve ever planned and completed. To even call it a ‘backpacking trip’ is a bit of an understatement… it’s more of a ‘mountaineer’s scrambling expedition’ - and is not for the feint of heart. It took me more than a year of daydreaming, visualizing and actual planning to pull it off - it was the trip of a lifetime… and it gifted me with the idea of a lifetime. Without a doubt, the Wind River High Route ‘gave’ me the single most life-changing idea and experience that I’ve ever had - and I am forever grateful to have had the opportunity to stand in awe of the mountains and lakes that comprise one of the most spectacular wilderness areas that I’ve ever had the privilege to visit.
To this day - finishing the High Route remains one of the most bittersweet moments of my life. I’ll share something I wrote a few years ago about that moment:
I had been dreaming about this moment for over a year. When I first decided to do the high route, I immediately started wondering what it would be like to finish it. I imagined myself having an almost out-of-body experience and feeling waves of euphoria at our accomplishment. From the moment I started planning this trip, there were so many uncertainties about the route, and whether or not we would be able to complete it – with any wilderness adventures there are so many unpredictable variables that can affect the outcome of the trip at any point. And yet, I now found myself moments away from arriving back at my car – it seemed so surreal that we had been here only 9 days earlier, because the 9 days felt like an eternity – so much had happened in the hours, days and miles that had passed between those two moments in time.
Aaron was leading the way when a reflection of glass glimmered in the distance – cars in the parking lot! I saw my Honda Fit nestled into the pack of vehicles – this was really it – we had made it! I expected to feel emotional – I expected to weep and become incredibly choked up and dramatic, but none of those things happened. There was no fanfare, no welcoming parade of overly-enthusiastic fans holding up “congratulations” banners while cheering for us. We simply walked off the trail and into the parking lot, and that was it. We took our packs off for the very last time of our journey and set them down with a hard “thud” in the gravel beside my car. We had completed the Wind River High Route. We were done.
“Well, that was fun”, I anticlimactically stated upon sitting down in the front seat of my car. Aaron casually replied, “You know, if I had known all along that we were going to hike 80 miles just to end up at a Honda Fit in a dirt parking lot, I probably wouldn’t have done it.” Together, finally relaxed after 9 days of hiking, we threw our heads back and laughed.
At our hotel in Dubois, Wyoming we met another guest named Jack who was on vacation with his family. Jack was 80 years old, and was very interested in hearing about our adventure. After a restless night of sleep, I ran into Jack at breakfast where he told me that his daughter was arriving today. He shook his head, “That’s the one thing about aging that I can’t stand – time. I’m here talking with you right now, and I want to be here in this moment, but I know that I’ll blink and the next thing I know, my daughter will be here, and all this time will have passed without me even realizing it. Everything just seems like a dream sometimes.” I hid it well, but I could feel my suppressed emotions starting to surface. I hadn’t cried when we finished the high route, even though it was an intensely emotional experience for me, but at this moment, speaking to Jack, I knew exactly what he meant.
I had spent a year planning and dreaming about this trip. I had envisioned every single detail. I had planned everything from each morsel of food, to the amount of toilet paper we needed, to the day-to-day itinerary and navigation. I had lovingly coddled this trip for so long, that letting go of it was like saying goodbye to a dear friend. It’s a complicated feeling – on one hand, completing it is what I wanted, but it also isn’t what I wanted, because I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to hold onto it forever. Now, immersed back in the throws of reality, I wish I had savored the experience more. I wish I had paused more to breathe in and slow down. I had visualized hiking back to the car – but then what? What came after that moment? What was supposed to fill the void that was left in the place where I had given every ounce of my heart to planning this adventure and making sure that we were successful?
I thought again about what Jack had said – that the passage of time makes certain events in our lives seem like a dream. The days on the high route were long and tiring, but the time passed rapidly. While the 9 days seemed like an eternity as we were living them, as soon as we hiked out, the whole trip seemed completely surreal. There we were, back at my car, wondering if any of it had actually happened. I didn’t want it to be like that, I wanted it to feel real all of the time. I wanted it back. But of course (baring the invention of a flux capacitor), that can’t happen. And so, the experience transforms itself into a story.
As soon as we made it home, I did the only thing that I knew how to do to make our adventure come to life- I started writing. Gradually, the billions of memories that Aaron and I shared together during our 9 days on the high route started to breathe again – the experience was real. The indescribable beauty that we witnessed, the obstacles we overcame and the miles that we walked have forever left an intangible imprint on my heart. I’ve thought a lot about what Jack told me that morning in Dubois, Wyoming, and what I’ve realized is that I’m not afraid of time passing quickly, because time really only passes quickly when you are doing something you love – when you are with people that you love, in a place where you feel at home, doing exactly what you want to be doing and completely immersed in the moment. In fact, in those moments, time really doesn’t matter at all – what matters is that there is absolutely no place in the world you would rather be. I like to imagine Aaron and I on the high route during our best moments – climbing Europe Peak, fishing at Golden Lakes, ascending Downs Mountain, sleeping on the grass below Blaurock Pass – time and space spinning wildly around us, but we’re too happy to notice the chaos. Instead, it’s just us – sharing an adventure together and moving forward, inch by inch.
Writing about the Wind River High Route, I never had a plan for what the theme of the trip would be, I just started writing. As my fingers wildly jumped across the keyboard, the stories and ideas would flow from a place deep within my heart – I often remarked to Aaron that I didn’t even know where my ideas came from. The stories came so naturally and easily to me – the joy that they brought me in the retelling of this trip has been almost as significant as the joy I felt while actually taking the same steps that I write about. The further I immersed myself into the adventure, I finally realized that I never needed to worry about whether or not I had a story to tell. The mountains write those stories for us. They cradle them in their peaks, their lakes, their expansive skies and their rivers. They keep them in their trails, their unpredictable weather and their glowing sunsets. The stories have been there for millions of years, and will be there for millions of years more. They are there waiting for you right now – all you really have to do is walk, and listen.
It’s been almost 8 years since I completed the Wind River High Route - and while I’ve told the story of the ‘lightning bolt’ moment of Kula Cloth many times - other than writing the original essay after the trip itself (and before I had made any progress on my pee cloth idea) I hadn’t revisited my actual account of that day until this past week. As I wrote this AMA this week, it was confirmation of everything that I believe and teach to others… that in a moment of deep gratitude, abundance and appreciation - the thing that matched those feelings arrived. Of course, at the time - I had no idea. And that’s the thing - when these ‘gifts’ arrive to us - we can’t see the whole picture … we can only receive them graciously and hope that we can move past our own limiting beliefs to do them justice - and to bring their message of love and kindness into the world.
While the Wind River High Route was indeed the backpacking trip of a lifetime - my relationship with hiking and climbing has changed a lot since the early days of my exploration. I no longer need to get out every single weekend and ‘summit things’ in order to be happy - in fact, I’m just as happy whether I’m hiking or not. I once thought that I would mourn the ‘not needing’ of external things - but I’ve discovered that there is nothing to mourn - because in the place of needing comes a deep satisfaction with where I am… not an endless hunger to be somewhere else. I absolutely do still love hiking - but I also try to find moments of joy in each day of my life - whether that is running errands or walking near my house. Lately, my husband and I have re-connected over our mutual love of riding motorcycles, and I’ve been really enjoying the time that we spend together doing that - feeling the wind and discovering new places.
While the idea for Kula Cloth did arrive on a backpacking trip - I want to caution that you don’t need to push yourself to the extreme to find the love that I found that day. What I’ve learned over the many miles that I’ve spent wearing hiking boots - is that what I was looking for, I already had. Friends - may you each know that you are on the adventure of a lifetime. Life is the adventure. Look deep within and you will see — the beauty that you seek out there is in you… right now.
Love,
Anastasia
P.S. If you’d like to submit a question for next week’s AMA, you can submit it anonymously using this form right here. Can’t wait to read your submissions - thank you all so much for sending them!