What happened when I started backpacking?*
*It's not what you think...
Dear Kula Diaries,
This week, my mom is in town visiting for our annual backpacking trip. I briefly mentioned in another post that my first ‘backpacking trip’ was climbing Mt. Baker (a 10,000+ ft glaciated volcano in WA… not recommended as a first backpacking trip btw)… but what I didn’t mention was the moment, about 15 years prior to that trip, where the ‘seed’ to become a backpacker was planted in my heart.
When I was 13 years old, my family lived in Pennsylvania, and my parents loaded me and my two sisters into our family minivan and we headed out West with a paper sign taped to the back of the van that simply said, ‘Montana or Bust’. We spent almost 5 weeks camping in a 6 person Eureka tent - travelling to different national parks and hiking and exploring in all of them. I became a ‘Junior Ranger’ in about a dozen National Parks, and as a young girl who felt somewhat out of place after being pretty severely bullied for many years, I noticed something else: I felt like I could be myself when I was outside. When I was climbing around on granite boulders - nobody was making fun of me and telling me that I was stupid. When I was looking at a Mountain Goat perched high on a ledge, I didn’t feel like a square peg in a round hole. When I asked questions to the Park Rangers, they didn’t roll their eyes and laugh at me. When I was outside, I felt connected to something that I couldn’t quite explain. I didn’t want the trip to end. In Glacier National Park, I tied myself to a tree in our campsite and I refused to leave. My parents had to physically cut me away from the tree and kindly ‘force’ me to get into the minivan for the ride back to Pennsylvania.
It was also on that trip to Glacier National Park that I saw backpackers for the very first time. I still remember seeing a group of 4 people - laden with heavy, giant backpacks. Curiously, I asked my mom, “What are they doing?” My mom turned to me to explain, “Well, they are backpacking… they take everything that they need with them in a backpack and then they hike out into the wilderness.” I was shocked… people did that?! I specifically remember looking at those 4 people and thinking very clearly to myself, “Some day, some how, I’m going to do that too.”
I don’t think that things happen by accident - because ultimately we are always being called towards the best version of who we can be — we are always seeing little, gentle clues from the universe as if to say, “Go this way! Look at what’s over here!”. If I hadn’t been on that trip… or seen those backpackers… or become a Junior Ranger in an embarrassing number of National Parks… I can’t say how different my life would be right now. But I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that everything has always been leading me to where I am right now - everything was always showing me the way to come back home to myself - to find the truest part of my heart and to remember what connects me to all things. That thing I felt as a kid - that sense of connection and belonging - it was real.
I started backpacking when I was in my 20s. After I moved to Washington and after I survived my ‘Climbing Mt. Baker with No Experience’ ordeal - I jumped into backpacking and climbing with a hunger and a passion: if there was a trail to a peak or a lake, I was going to go there. And eventually, I learned that I really liked going to places that didn’t have a trail - because that meant you got to figure out your own path. I loved backpacking so much, that I decided I wanted to take my mom backpacking for the first time when she was 56 years old. Afterall, she was the one who had adamantly insisted that I start hiking as a kid - so, I figured that it was only fitting that I would teach her the ‘ropes’ of backpacking.
For her first backpacking trip ever, I decided to take my mom into the Enchantments area in Washington State. Now, anybody who lives in WA will probably spit out their drink and shake their head reading that last line - because ascending Aasgard Pass and thru-hiking the Enchantments is decidedly not a beginner backpacking trip. But, alas, I was an overly ambitious daughter who wanted to give her mother the backpacking trip experience of a life time. I’ll keep the story short: we both cried at the top of Aasgard pass, which was an ascent that involved pushing my mom over sections of thick, clear ice at times (it was late October). We laid on the ground that first night and stared at the vast infiniteness of stars as the calories from our dinner slowly warmed our bodies in the frigid, clear night air.
We spent 2 days hiking on granite slabs, amidst glowing, golden larch trees and we descended the Enchantments in a snow storm - much to my mom’s chagrin, when we approached the notorious ‘rebar rungs hammered into the side of sloping granite’ section. The trip changed my mom’s life: her feet have probably never recovered from that descent because she was wearing such a terrible pair of boots and at the age of 67, she currently backpacks and hikes more miles than I do each year. She has completed the Wonderland Trail, backpacked the Grand Canyon, backpacked through Iceland… and beyond.
And so, this past week - when she arrived, anxiously looking forward to our annual trip - I experienced a flood of memories about the impact that hiking and backpacking has had on my own life. Simply put: nothing that I do today for a living would exist if I hadn’t started hiking and backpacking. In fact, as you read this post - I’ll probably be waking up in a tent somewhere on the side of Glacier Peak - campsite to be determined. This morning, I was telling my mom about writing this week’s post about the importance of backpacking and hiking in my life and she told me a story about my grandfather (her dad) that I had never heard. In 2016, my grandpa’s health had slowly been declining, and my mom was on a backpacking trip to Utah when she received word that he had begun to show signs of being very close to death. My mom called my Grandpa, who, in his infinite supportiveness had said, “Don’t come here to see me - what makes me happy is knowing that you are happy doing what you love.” My mom, naturally left her trip in Utah to fly to Florida to be with her father, who passed away shortly after.
Thinking about my mom and my grandfather and backpacking reminded me of a backpacking trip that I did right after my grandpa had died. I was still struggling with his passing, and I went on the trip, even though I felt guilty for going. The first night at our campsite, Aaron (my husband) and I wandered around, until we caught sight of a lone deer – a doe – standing in the middle of the grass. The doe turned and stared at us, ears perked and her deep, black eyes inquisitively analyzing our purpose for being there. We stood in silence and stared back – watching her as she gracefully moved through the meadow. Feeling comforted by the presence of Aaron, I felt felt a tinge of pity for the solo doe, “She’s so alone”, I thought to myself. A little later in camp, I wandered to the toilet (essentially a box with a lid). As I walked down the small trail, suddenly, the same deer popped out of the trees. We stood and stared at each other again – her eyes appearing almost sorrowful. I watched as she nibbled some grass, and then slowly and quietly slipped into the woods, out of my view. That night as Aaron and I lay in the tent, I was overwhelmed with a deep sense of grief – tears streamed down my face as I struggled to verbalize the sadness that I was feeling.
On our final day of the backpacking trip, we began a long, tedious descent down the trail back to the car. As we slogged along, a completely unexpected, lost memory crept into my mind: Years ago, I went to a massage therapist who told me that she was an, “intuitive”. At the time, I thought that pretty much translated as, “weird”. She gave me an amazingly soothing massage, and at the end of the massage she did some, “energy work”, and told me that that when she was in my presence she envisioned me as a lone deer standing in a meadow. When she told me that years ago, I was at a point in my life where I felt very alone, and I assumed that was what she meant, but now it felt like it had a different meaning. The deer in the meadow that we had seen the other night – she wasn’t alone. Each part of nature that we had experienced over the past 5 days of being on the trail – the rocks, the rain, the thunder and lightning and the wind, the sun, the stars, the snow, the creeks and valleys and summits – they were all woven into one gigantic, intertwined cosmic fabric. The deer was a part of something bigger – something she couldn’t even understand, but something she felt and knew.
This is something that, over the years, I’ve felt more and more deeply - not only on backpacking trips, but also in ‘normal’ moments too. It is something that I used to only find in the wilderness - but I’ve discovered something even more important: there is a wilderness inside each of us, and it is always there. It is there as I sit at my kitchen table and type these words … it is there when I am sitting in my car in traffic… it is there in my most joyous moments… and in my darkest moments too. The wilderness that we see out there is simply a reflection of this infinite beauty that resides in our own hearts. It is the deep recognition of that oneness that gives us the feeling of belonging - the feeling that I recognized as a young, lost child so many years ago… the feeling that I felt when I tied myself to a tree and didn’t want to leave… the feeling that I felt when I hugged my mom at the top of Aasgard Pass… and the feeling that I felt when I laid on my sleeping pad in a tent and cried for my grandfather… the feeling that I felt when I looked deeply into the eyes of that deer with a strange, loving familiarity.
As I envision the story of a life - our lives - I have come to realize how connected we all are. We each have a unique story to tell - but the love that connects those stories is the same. If we listen closely, we will hear the gentle call that is tugging us in the direction that we want to go - we will hear ourselves being called, ultimately, back to who we are.
I have always been the type of person who feels a deep connection with mountains and the wilderness. The most secretive parts of my heart are revealed on those slopes which stretch higher and higher towards the sky. As I think about all of the people who have played a role in my life - and all of the experiences in my past that have brought me on this decidedly ‘off trail’ route to where I am now… I can see the connections - in all moments, not just the ‘good’ ones.
I am connected to those people and moments, as the deer is connected to the environment in which it lives – never fully understanding the exact nature of the connection, but knowing that it belongs to something bigger than itself. I am connected to my grandparents as the memories of our time together travel through the neurons and synapses in my mind. A few weeks ago, I was doing a meditation at ‘the ledge’ - which is a tiny little perch where I walk multiple times per day… a rocky outcropping above my house. I sit on the ledge almost daily and close my eyes and listen to the sound of the wind and the birds - sometimes, if I’m lucky, I’ll watch the moon and welcome the sunrise. As I closed my eyes, I suddenly felt the presence of my grandparents (all four of them!) around me - my grandfather had a very specific way of hugging me… almost a ‘sideways shoulder squeeze’… and I could feel him do it. As we stood there on the ledge together, I realized that I was looking at what, would one day be, the Kula Cloth office. My grandparents said to me, “"You're doing great. We're so proud of you. This is all real, and you don't need to do anything different. Just be you."
We all venture outside for different reasons - but I’ve learned that the real reason isn’t what we might think. Sure, peaks are fun to climb and lakes are fun to ‘bag’ - but I’d argue that isn’t really why we are there. Ultimately - we all just want to belong. We want to be loved. We want to get a tiny glimpse into the goodness that we know, deep down lives within each of us. We want to remember that we are connected to everything and everyone - and we want to hold that remembrance with us as we move throughout our lives. That remembrance doesn’t have to leave - it is inside you right now, as it always has been. It is your gift to the universe, and the universe’s gift to you. It is the imprint of love that you can leave on every trail you walk… every peak you climb… and every life you encounter. We each leave an imprint that can never be removed. It is up to each of us to determine what that imprint will be.
Dearest friends - thank you all so much for being here. This week, with my mom visiting, it was fun to reflect back on my own trail… and to share some of the steps on my path that brought me to discover the things that now mean the most to me. It is my greatest hope that your time outside — whether it is on a backpacking adventure or simply staring into the sky at night — becomes an invitation for you to remember the specialness that lives within you.
I’ll end with a poem (below). Thank you for being you - and thank you for being a part of this giant spinning orb with all of us.
Love,
Anastasia
P.S. You can submit a question, comment or request to me using this form.
P.S.S. Next week we will be talking a bit about another one of my ‘tiny things’ - giving. This week, if you get the chance, see if you can give something to another human - no strings attached, no expectations. Just see what happens.
Once upon a time I looked not within but without To find what this life Was all about I climbed a mountain Sat under a tree Swam in a lake Laid down in the leaves Looked under a stone Listened to a stream No answers were found Was this simply a dream? I weathered the rain I braced against wind The storm raged outside But there was stillness within I suddenly knew The answers I wanted to find Had been waiting for me From the quiet inside.
Your grandparents WOULD be so proud of you and so am I. Thank you for a most wonderful backpacking trip. I appreciate all your planning and kindness in making it happen.
Backpacking trips are so magical. I look forward to summers in Washington all year for these moments. Thanks for sharing about your grandparents too. I lost both my maternal grandparents in the last year and its comforting to know I'm not alone in my thoughts of losing the elders in my family.