Trails and Mountains

This past year has been really mentally hard, particularly the last six months. But therapy and time have made me think I'm through the worst of it. Things are slowly but surely improving, I'll say that much. I'd tried to write a blog about what I've been struggling with and spent three hours drafting one, but I can't bring myself to post it. So, I'm writing this one instead, however I do touch lightly on the mental health stuff at the end. It's a long post, and it's probably boring for everyone else, but it explains my summer or maybe fall plans. If you make it all the way through, you deserve a cookie.

---

View from Huntsville, UT - "The Indian Trail"

I wasn't supposed to go on the two week adventure hike, but when I was about sixteen, I went to the Philmont Boy Scout Ranch.

I was raised Mormon and every four years, this one ward in the stake took both the young men and young women to Philmont. They'd spend months getting ready both physically and gathering their gear for it. I used to be in that ward a couple of years prior and wanted to go the minute I heard of it, but when the ward split, I was one of the few teens that got moved to a different ward. I was not pleased, for multiple reasons (but mostly because I was separated from all my friends).

Prior to Philmont my camping experience was rather limited. I was born and lived in Utah until I was four, and one of my earliest memories is of wandering around a campfire and shuffling my feet in dirt. I remember slamming truck doors, the smell of the plastic insides of the tent, and playing with sticks. It's all very fuzzy, but I remember I liked it.

But then we moved to Texas. All I heard growing up from my parents was that people don't camp in Texas (turns out that is a lie), because it was too humid and hot. I'll grant them the humid part. I cringe at the idea of tent camping this far south as well, but if you drive out of Houston just a couple of hours, you can escape the miserable humidity. The heat still sucks, but if you camp any other time than summer, you're going to be fine.

However, I did spend a lot of my early years outside. I have pictures and memories to back them up of our life in rural Utah. I chased rabbits, rode an old Thoroughbred gelding around in circles for hours, and played with feral kittens that ran around our property. Around eight or so, we lived for a few years in Magnolia, Texas when it was still largely undeveloped. My siblings and I smashed geodes open with hammers, played with more barn cats and our dogs, and walked the riding trails out behind our house that wrapped around the sprawling area where we lived. Large pine trees towered over us as we adventured down that path to a small creek that ran behind someone's house. At night, I'd sometimes lay on the platform of our playset and stared up at the stars with the warmth of one of the tomcats that lived on our back porch warming my chest as it vibrated with contentment.

At the end of the day, I grew up more in the suburbs than the country, but I feel like those early years impacted me more than I give them credit, largely in regards to loving the outdoors. I feel peace there that I feel nowhere else and a deep sense of comfort like being home. But my family didn't camp much.

The only opportunities I had to camp as a teen was the young women's girls camp. I had my hopes high. I'd heard the church had an old camp ground the girls went to, but by the time I was old enough, there had been a change. I remember being crushingly disappointed that instead of going to Oklahoma or Arkansas like the boys did, or going to this old camp the girls used to visit, that they were using a new place. We were sticking close and staying in air conditioned cabins. There was a mess hall, showers, and indoor plumbing. There wasn't even a fire ring, if I remember correctly. What the hell. That wasn't camping. And I told my parents as much, and grumbled and complained about it the entire time. I'm not very good at hiding my emotions, for better or worse.

Up until I was sixteen, I hadn't done much in terms of camping. I may have slept in a tent a handful of times leading up to Philmont. My experiences were limited by no fault of my own. A few years went by after the ward split, and I heard from my friends how they were preparing for the adventure and everything involving it. I was both sad and a little jealous, since I wasn't allowed to go. But randomly, one afternoon, my parents got a phone call and then called me into the living room. One of the girls from the other ward had to drop out of the trip due to a death in the family, so a spot was open last minute on the girls crew.

It was two weeks out from Philmont, school had just ended, and the leaders in the ward couldn't think of anyone who was in shape enough to do the trip except me, even though I was on longer in the ward. I'd wrestled in High School, and even in off season I was still pretty in shape. They had called to see if I was interested in filling the extra spot. My parents said I could go, under the one condition that I didn't utter a single complaint the entire time. I was confused why they'd think I would, though typing this out makes me realize they probably came to that conclusion based on how much I hated the Young Women's girls camp. In my defense, Philmont and the girls camp were not remotely the same thing.

So I went, and I loved every second of it. There were girls who definitely did not feel the same way, and I felt bad for them as some of them broke down in to tears at the end a long day and wished that they could go home. To make it worse, there was a drought, and even sponge bathing was discouraged. I have never in my entire life felt cleaner than after taking a shower for the first time in two weeks. But I wanted to go back. I wasn't ready for it to be over. After 70 miles, two weeks sleeping on the ground, blisters, no showering, aching feet, and burning muscles, I found out I really loved hiking and camping. I don't think you can do all that for two weeks and not be sure one way or the other, and I knew were I firmly landed.

But I didn't have a ton of opportunities to camp after that. In college, I went a couple of times. I didn't go more because a full camping set up is expensive, and I didn't have a ton of friends who wanted to go. I did hike a good bit though.

Some time during college (Utah State University)

When I got married, we were too busy working, then having a family, and then moving down to Texas. We have done glamping, and that's been fun. Jack's family will rent a few a/c'd cabins, cook over the firepits, and play down by the lake or hike some local trails. It's definitely better than girls camp. With each trip, I've bought a little more camping gear, with the not so subtle goal of eventually getting a tent once both kids were past the toddler stage. Jack's learned not to question my purchases ever since he found out, that, 'hey, this thing you bought is really useful after all.' Yes, I'm a little smug about that. He's been aware of my not so secret goal of getting a big-ass tent and all the gear. Luckily, he also likes to camp and has fond memories of doing it with his own family at national and state parks. He definitely did it more than I did as kid.

And that brings me to today. I'd been talking to Jack one night, trying to figure out the summer and any trips we wanted to do. Vegas is highly likely, though we're still undecided on bringing the Littles. A beach house in Galveston could be fun. And then his grandmother also owns a condo in Park City, which led to me off handedly pitching the idea of visiting Utah again and hiking. That only got other ideas rolling. The kids were finally old enough, I realized. We could camp. And there were gorgeous national and state parks that neither of us had really explored very much. We should go! But we also wanted to take other trips and vacations past the summer and we needed to crunch numbers before that. Jack's contract with Legacy was also expiring soon, so there would be new contract likely issued and discussed in June. We had to wait. While we wait, we've talked more. Jack wasn't completely on board with tent camping at a Utah National Park for our first time with the kids. He had a lot of reasons, and they made sense, but I was still bummed. I off-handedly said, 'well what if I just went by myself, since it would be cheaper?' Jack responded with a 'go for it'.

Jack and I are believers in independent vacations and trips when you're married. There's a lot of articles supporting the idea as well, it turns out. So we discussed him taking his own mini vacation as well if I were to take this one up to adventure around Utah this summer or fall. And then I hit up Amazon for what I didn't have and started researching how to hopefully not get raped and murdered while camping alone. There are blog articles sadly dedicated to this.

 I don't plan on backpacking in anywhere, although I did buy one, largely to make it easier to fly and transport all of the gear, but also because I'd like to work up to feeling comfortable enough to go backpacking. Not this trip, but maybe soon in the future I think that would be a lot of fun to go with Jack or as a family.

Part of wanting to go alone is linked to the mental health issues I mentioned at the beginning. It's not just a camping trip for me. It feels symbolic of a lot of the loneliness I've been feeling since we've moved down here. I've also been a pretty independent person, but it's been a long time since I've down anything by myself. I want to prove that I still can. I can board a plane, plan a trip, rent a car and adventure by myself. The idea fills me with a sense of excitement that the challenge of self-reliance brings and it's one I'm sure I can achieve. There's a lot more to it than that, but I feel like that captures most of it.

Nature is also healing, and a quick google search shows all sorts of studies and articles on the benefits of being outdoors. I think there's beauty to be found in different places and environments. Nature's humbling with its ability to remind me how small I am in the grand scheme of things, while also making me feel apart of it. I feel a connectedness down to my soul when I pause and just take it all in, in a way no man-made building has made me feel. I think besides the symbolisms of the trip, it will also be a salve for the cracks and aches that have been slowly building up in my life over time.

That doesn't mean I don't want to see people though. I've posted on social media a few times about how I'm planning on going on a solo camping trip. I'm hoping I can find some friends or friends and their kids who would be interested in hiking some trails or grabbing the campsite next to mine, if they're interested. Having people dip in and out while I am up there honestly feels very similar to how life has been lately. Not to sound too corny, but we're all on our own paths, but sometimes people join us before diverging on their own. And sometimes no one joins you, and I'm prepared for that too. Company is always welcome, but at the end of the day, it's really up to you where you're going and how prepared you feel for it. But it doesn't make it any less hard, but it can show you how capable you are.

(With all that said, I feel like I should also warn people. Just because Jack is supporting me going, doesn't mean my poor husband isn't nervous. If I can't find anyone to occasionally meet up to hike or camp with at the larger campgrounds, he might be calling in reinforcements to check on or babysit me. Or maybe I'll be able to convince him I'll be ok. Whichever.)