This is Not Glamping.

glamping: shorthand for glamorous camping; luxury camping.

I don’t know much about that. Somehow, in the midst of morphing from hikers to backpackers, HT has also managed to skip over any logical transition from “girl sleeps in bed, indoors, with running water” to “girl must conform to boy’s sudden ‘ultralight backpacker’ self-classification and must forego even basic comforts of life”. Do not get me wrong, I grew up camping every summer, but not carrying my gear on my back. I ask his counsel when shopping for gear in prep for this summer’s adventures and the man has done his research.

Apparently now we don’t even change our clothes.

We must upgrade from a hand-me-down 10-year old ThermaRest (but it was free!).

We don’t carry tons of extra water (but I’m a superhydrator!).

We must have titanium coffee mugs.

We shave ounces at all costs.

We shave legs to save leg hair weight. (OK, not that one. Carrying a razor would be required and that is just NOT ALLOWED).

I’m going along with it, ’cause Lord knows I dont’ actually want to be hauling a heavier pack than he is when he’s dragging my ass along the trail, but I’m just wondering if we might find a happy medium when we base camp with my family in the Adirondacks over Labor day weekend.

…maybe I’ll even bring a pillow.

Do these Merrells make me look fat?

Yes, they do. They create a spectacular cankle phenomenon, especially when paired with high socks. But do I care?

If you hike with me, you’ll hear me say it. My hiking clothes are, for lack of a better word, a little mannish. I’ve tried to infuse femininity into my trail wardrobe but when it comes down to it, sexy and cute never prove to be practical, and if I’m ten miles into the woods and truckin’ along…

I’ll take performance over pretty any day.

AT, Smokies in NC/TN (Spring ’13)

Presidential Traverse, White Mts, NH (Summer ’12)

Will Hike For…The Peace of Quiet

When Hardtack gets talking about his plans for the Long Trail in July…this is what I think about. He’ll be without Twitter, email, texting. If I’m lucky he might just write me a letter. Especially if I promise to mail drop trail treats…

 

 

 

Get Me Outta Here!

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore
There is society, where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar
I love not man the less, but Nature more

-byron

I sit at my desk today with a stress fracture in my foot and my darn crutches leaned up against my desk, stalking SmartWool 2012 closeouts and dreaming of dehydrated trail meals. Hardtack spent his weekend backpacking a stretch of the AT in Harriman State Park with a hiking buddy, testing out some new gear and soaking in the first gorgeous weekend of the spring. I’ll encourage him to post some reviews and pics.

I’m wondering when I’ll be back in the woods…

A Celebration in Asheville, NC: The Ithaca of the South

Oh what a treat. I recently returned from a great trip to Asheville, NC with my (big) little broski. He even earned a trail name on the trip. I’ll reveal that in a minute. The trip feels like a blessing now, considering the past year’s events…

Why Asheville, you ask?

We’ve both been told for years, “Ya know what town you’d really like? Asheville. It’s like the Ithaca of the South.” So about a year ago, we planned a trip, just for fun. Our sis had a companion flight she donated to the cause and we booked an airbnb. Then the unthinkable happened and one year ago today, little bro got in a really, really brutal car accident. He teetered on the edge of survival and was in the hospital and rehab for months. He underwent surgery after surgery and my family took turns manning his bedside. On top of repairing damage to internal organs, he had extensive, complicated orthopedic reconstruction in his hip and ankle (which he’d previously had reconstructed after jumping off the 2nd story porch onto a trampoline. lovable idiot.).

WP Poetry Challenge

WordPress challenged me to write a poem today.

My new little car, so zippy and neat

Isn’t looking so new, not in the back seat

Miss P is a dog, I cannot blame her

But she’s killing me softly. I can’t take the fur

Thank goodness, I found a solution. Finally! She even gets her own orange blanket to match the hunting-girl motif.

This Won’t Happen to Me. (Boyfriend Pushes Girlfriend Off Cliff)

Some days, I feel lucky that Hardtack isn’t a fan of heights. Yes, we hike tall mountains, but he keeps his distance from the edge.

This girl wasn’t so lucky.