i still buy shoes

some days, i think the person i've become, and the person i once was, would never recognize each other.
if i came across my 18 year old self, in a coffee shop, i would probably laugh. the hair, the make-up, the clothes, the chatter i would undoubtedly be chattering with my girlfriend. i would take my coffee, and be a bit surprised that her eyes were the same blue, but there is where the similarities would end.
i was always told, warned in a way, that i would change in my twenties.
why have i never (ever) listened to anyone?
i changed.

i settled down a bit. i connected myself with reality. i think that may be the biggest change of all, the connection with the world around me. the realization that i am not the be all end all.
i think some of that came in alaska. have i told you about alaska? someday i will.
i changed a little moving to portland, living on my own without a cent.
a little when i came home and moved back and forth from different apartments, dingy and gray, to the wide open spaces of alaska.
then i jumped into adulthood, bought a house, got a job, and irrigated my lawn every 5 days.
and, as you know, that didn't work out, so i dumped the house, dumped all the furniture and traveled in a trailer.

now, my hair is longer, and close to my head. my face is clean and void of make-up. my body even changed. turning from that skinny pre-adulthood blossom, into a stronger, tighter, more capable thing.
i am less self-conscious.
i am less selfish.
i am less jaded.
my coffee is stronger.
as are my convictions.

but,
i still love shoes.
only now, instead of heels
they have sticky rubber on the bottom.

smoke on the water

have i ever told you about my youth?

i grew up on the water, behind a boat.
my family spent the summers on the lake. any lake.
i belong in water.

i, all of us really, started skiing at a very young age. tiny people learning the ski behind a very big boat with a wake taller than us.
the water smoked in the morning, as smooth as glass
and i always went first.
some things never change.






i cannot tell you how happy it makes me to be on the boat again.
to water-ski, my sisters around me, sweet baby hadley experiencing it for the first time.
my mom.
my dad.
these are the times that i love my family the very most, total unadulterated fun.
my dad, i can't even express how my dad is during these time, how he's always been. he loves it too. and he makes it perfect. he brought along lox and bagels, his giant smile as each of his girls jumped into the water, and even after a couple of years not skiing, stood up and cut into the wake. having that perfect baby on his lap, showing her all the buttons on the boat.

even as a teenager, the type that didn't want anything to do with her parents. (i was far too cool in my young body) i spent time with my dad on that boat. always down to go, always first on the ski.
these are some of my best memories


it was the perfect way to start the day,
and i didn't stop smiling all day.

know those days, the ones where simply surviving seems to take every ounce of will?
i've had a week like that.
a week of just barely making it.

i haven't cried.
i want to.
but, i've managed to keep myself composed. i know, if the world senses i'm falling apart, it will push me, just that little bit, and over the edge i will tumble.

i've been yelling, alot, recently. not out of anger, but simply to be heard. i try to not yell, and instead project my voice, have it rise above the chaos. projecting is difficult, and i'm reduced to yelling.
and hiding.
yes, hiding, in dark rooms, behind curtains, around corners, in hope of getting a solitary moment.
just one.
to recompose.

i am lucky, i have people rally around me. help me, offer their strength, and arms in which to fall.
i've needed it, like air and water and cupcakes.

a week.

it is now friday.
it is almost over.

this weekend i will lose myself in the woods.
get far from the noise.
and climb

part two: when the friends arrive

all seriousness was abandoned.

sometimes swimming, campfires, laughter and sport-climbing are the most purifying activities.








i did try my hand at a little trad lead.
while the guidebook claimed it easy, i am here to tell you
it was not.
although, is there such a thing as and "easy" trad lead?


and we stood
above the river
above the valley
touching granite
watching water fall
and waiting for lighting.
all things
in this moment

wherein i have gone, only to return; part one.

my body, my heart, my whole self belongs in the wild. we found those wild places.

it's strange to have traveled, experienced, and touched rock for so long, to suddenly stop, and only get out on the weekends.
this doesn't seem to work for my mister and me. so we left all civilization behind, turned off those pesky cell phones, and began walking into the mountains.



it is still cool, winter snow still melting, and the field of flowers in full bloom. we needed to be a part of it, needed to get close to them, and let the fragrance surround us. even bear took a moment from running to stop and smell.


a field a granite awaits. so we loaded our back-packs heavy, spilling over the sides, with everything to live and climb, and began walking up winding and steep paths. i've never back-packed into a place, and i was nervous, and loaded down.

my small frame holding so much, a burden on my shoulders. but i am tough, and trudged forward.
i am positive my pack was gaining weight as we walked, and eventually i became delirious, losing track of the surrounding, and the beauty, and with every passing mile, i slowed. when we finally came upon our rock, i was only making progress by pure will. every step a challenge and when i finally set it down i flew.
the thing is: climbing consumes all logic, and walking miles upon miles seems totally worth it when the final corner is turned and that rock face stands in full glory. it challenges, with it's splits, and fissures to climb it.
this is how i know god was a climber. how else could something so perfect become real?




we sit in awe. this place pristine. glacier water flowing over our toes, pines encircling our tent, and granite waiting for us.

so we climbed. and climbed. and climbed.
pitch upon pitch.
i've never climbed something so big.
1000 ft of granite.
i lost it.
just a little.
a traverse, a heavy pack, and more pitches then i've ever done.
i may have looked down.
i may have cried.
fortunately i have the greatest partner a girl could ask for, and whilst on the verge of a break-down, he calmed me, soothing words and a promise of making it to the peak (and no option of going down) we finished that giant climb, and stood, for just a moment on top of a mountain, both sides falling to the valley and us alone on the very tip-top.




things are beautiful.

i am a simple girl.
i need very little.
the sun, my man
wild wide spaces
water, and rock.
that is all.
i am happy.

have i mentioned we like to climb

because we do.
we really do.

a few weekends ago, (my how time flies!) we went to sun valley with our good friends ben and jen to celebrate the 4th. on the way we stopped in twin falls, and climbed near dierkes lake. i love twin falls, i think it is the sweetest little city, and the water fall was quite impressive this year.










we climbed the "steepest 5.10 in the country" as the hand-drawn guide book boasts. it was amazing, and while i am normally not the type of climber to gloat, i climbed it clean, and i was pretty proud of myself.



then i did this climb, and as happy as i was to climb the 5.10, this humbled me right back to reality. and that my friends is why i love climbing. the moment you feel amazing, invincible, strong is the moment the rock begs to differ.

we are still awaiting our trip. the truck, brilliant old thing needed some doctoring, without it we are grounded. however once we leave, i will take lots of pictures, as i'm sure you all are as excited as i.

readying

we are on the verge of another adventure.

this summer has been quite different from the last, and i keep finding myself looking back and remembering where we were at exactly this time.
then i become sad.
i miss traveling. i miss everyday as an adventure. i miss all the fiascoes.
mostly i miss waking with my husband, and the smell of french press coffee.

we are off again, soon in fact, and again i will have adventure. this will be shorter, as we now have jobs and a house and the things they come with.
but, for two glorious weeks i will not. i will have climbing, and the wild spaces of wyoming, french pressed coffee, and my husband in a very small bed.
right now, i am overwhelmed with all that needs to be done. trailer cleaned, packed, registered, watered, filled with necessities. house shut down. truck, our poor handsome truck needs something as he will not start.
and, we've left it all until this very last minute.
true nelson fashion.
isn't this is how all great adventures start
in total chaos?