20 Hours in Belize

I admit, I'm a little smug about telling people I took a "day trip" to another country. Most of the responses I get are of disbelief and the vibe is that most people think it's as cool as I do. But, I have been met with comments along the lines of "why?" and "what's the point?"

I get it. How much of another country's culture can I soak in during a few hours? Not much. It's a little taste, just a sip. And when the opportunity comes to immerse myself in the day to day lives of people and a lifestyle I don't know, I will most certainly take it! But here's the point. I've worked really hard to create a freedom in my life that allows me to visit Belize for 20 hours. I've rearranged my career, relationships, and financial security in exchange for the opportunity to say I stood on the coast of another country just to watch sunrise. And like the Belize currency exchange, 50 cents on the dollar is a hard bargain. Sometimes 20 hours just isn't enough. But for every bit of effort I've put into living my life this way, I am doubly blessed with loving support and luck that allows this lifestyle. And because of that I refuse not to take advantage of every chance offered to me to travel and discover this adventurous life.

In the day I was offered to explore Belize we sat by a light house at sunset and watched local children play in the park as their family prepared a picnic feast. We walked by the open doors of churches and were reminded that Sundays are meant for rest and replenishment. Consequently, this also meant only one restaurant was open for dinner; a menu of burgers and beers. The overly polite and timid waitress shed her barely audible voice as she served the locals next to us, but kept a bowed head at our table.

At dark Christmas lights came on, and music and laughter floated from front porches and backyards, fenced in with scraps of metal and wire. Our guest house proprietor apologized for leaving us to wait at the door step, her young employing was late... island time. I thought she had overcharged us for our room until I realized the receipt was written using Belize Dollars. 8 o'clock found us in bed, and 6 AM had us walking down a quiet street to watch sunrise.

 

The world lightened, a man on a bike stopped near us and began tossing a hand line into the ocean, breakfast I imagine. Several couples jogged around an open air market and amphitheater. Eduardo greeted us "Hello, single ladies" just as he had the evening before. "Jerry Louis" called out to us by name reminding us that we had a cab ride arranged and he wouldn't be late. Breakfast was light, but oh man, the coffee was good! The light house was our backrest and the waves eased us into what was about to become the Monday morning hustle.

We dipped in and out of shops, jumping through honking vehicles to cross streets. Uniformed school girls waved and giggled and a slew of homeless men lay on sidewalks. We were given directions based on corners and bridges, the street names on our maps never showed up on signs. The swinging bridge opened to tidy rows of ocean weathered sail boats, and a bay side shop toting the sign "Drums not Guns". A girl at the fruit stand urged us to try several tart fruits I couldn't pronounce and then added a generous scoop of spices and salt to the bag we purchases.

We left Belize the way we came, walking passed the calls of propositions for a "Taxi?" "No? Helicopter?" Most people smiled, many said hello. The cab bumped down noisy roads of construction. Pickups full of fresh coconuts stood by, an aardvark ran through the brush in the corner of my eye. And all of a sudden we were back in an airport, buying stickers that said "Better Belize It" because, part of me, no, could not believe it.

Reflections into December

Stagnant.
The word itself gags me, sticking in my throat like it's mere utterance brings the sounds to life. It's where I am right now. It's a single word wholly encompassing how I'm slugging through my days. Standing still.
Stuck.
Not moving.
Here.
Here, but not present. It's where my mind is, and my body knows it. I feel as if I have no forward movement. I'm not letting go of the past, I'm not keeping my thoughts in these moments. I'm stuck, and true to every piece of life there is a reflection of this mind-set and it's showing itself as disease in my body.
Stagnant.
It's a foul-smelling, decaying sludge of the mind and it's oozing into my blood and body. I can feel it; I can see it, sometimes I even imagine I can smell it. And I'm letting it take over with it's spirit of excess. It's habits of indulgence; too much eating, too much drinking, too much idleness. It's a congestion of sadness and anger that needs swept from my mind and pushed through my veins. It's a bulge that has swelled to the point of demanding to be noticed. Denial, my greatest superpower and biggest weakness has failed.

And I combat it by forcing my body to move more often. By sleeping away from home, by pretending to have moved on. Things that I want, but only think I need. Those are the greatest forms of deceit I know, and they won't heal.

Healing will come from accepting this as my place right now. It will come from deep breaths and gentle reminders. It will come from acceptance without judgement; from tears and smiles. From the knowledge that the fluidity of mind will encourage the fluidity of body and neither will come without the unquestioning surrender to this path. From thankfulness, regardless of circumstance.

So today, with prayers, I accept that this is where I am. That, though I am not currently on a nomadic path, my mind is open to adventures of a new kind. That life has so much to offer me right here as long as my heart remains open to the journey. Trusting that as my mind heals, and I care for myself, so will my body.

As we enter a new month, one that promises to hold many changes of season, I look forward to the future with excitement, but without planning. By setting intentions and mantras to reflect on, I'll turn to these words and mindsets as I struggle with grace and peace:

I believe in myself.
I accept myself, unconditionally, right now.
I trust in this path before me.
I am proud of my capable body.
I am grateful to be here.

I craved a breath.
And the air, deliciously dank,
     called with the sound of leaves.
I drank it in long gulps.
And satiated my lungs.
I walked through sticky heaviness,
and accepted the weight.

The Sun and Breeze struck a deal
     of equal parts shine and polish.

I tingled with warm damp skin-feeling,
and let staleness pull from my pores.
I sank toes into the deep cool earth,
and left that memory
     to fade as the next step pressed in.
I opened arms, eyes, lips.
And exhaled light-ness.

My First Marathon

In recent weeks my Bible and devotional have been permanently residing in my bed. So when the 💪🏃🙌 emoji's of my alarm flashed at me at 5 am Sunday, I had the pages open before my eyes cleared and adjusted against the 60 watts glaring bedside. I don't always roll into my devotional first thing in the morning, but this morning I was scared. The night before had passed in hours of prayers asking for encouragement and peace. My verse that morning: Hebrews 12:1 "... let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Shut up. Yes, sometimes I speak to God this way, I'm working on it. But the tears and thanks that followed filled my soul against what I knew would be a very taxing day.
 
I choose solitary activities. I take myself away to suffer through the most unreasonable tasks. I pack my bag and I walk for months, holding everyone at arms length when I need their support and encouragement the most. The goals I set for myself are seemingly impossible and I stubbornly take them on, refusing to accept help. As I was running this weekend the reality of my ventures set in; the success of everything I've done has come from who was willing to tag in when I needed to check out. Through all this selfishness my people emerge unfazed by my shoves to the sidelines, so many more people than I imagined are hanging out in my corner.

It was two weeks until my race before I mentioned to anyone that I planned to run 26.2 miles for the first time in my life. Once the words were out, it was like I had yelled for a rally. There were no questions, there were no expectations put on me to ask for help, the sheer number of people who did not hesitate to simply show up was overwhelming. I had running partners and cheerleaders and prayers and they all rained down on me despite my sealed lips and quiet preparations.

 I'm not sure there's a way to describe endurance sports without sugar coating the pain. It hurts. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, my hips hurt. I cramped, I spasm-ed. My head ached and I felt a bit spinny. I battled the physical pain, but the battle I was most fearful of never came. I was prepared to fight off negative thoughts and moments of discouragement. I never had to. I spent nearly 6 hours in motion and for the entire duration I was flooded with encouragement. I had smiling faces waiting for me every several miles. I was running lonely miles, but I was not alone for a single step.

The following words and hugs came from people who have walked with me 100 miles, 500 miles, and more. They've run with me for a mile or ten. They've cried with me, they've held my hand, and they've offered to take the pain from my heart and put it on their own when I couldn't hurt anymore. And these are the people who celebrated with me and for me. These are the people I've been blessed with for no other reason except that the Lord knows I need them.

 "You can do this. It's not like you're going to die. Worst case you walk a lot and you're really sore Monday. Nothing you can't handle"

My Colorado Trail - Part 3

Day 29 - "I'm happy to be doing my favorite thing with great people. One more night in my tent and waking up with the sun."

On day 28 we hiked 28.5 miles, 22 of those miles were waterless. The night before we sat around a campfire and talked strategy - where was the last water source, how many liters should we carry, where should we aim to camp, how early should we start hiking? I watched the flames and scootched as close as I could for warmth, the air got cold as soon as the sun set and I was grateful for my sleeping bag already spread in my tent, waiting. I made myself stop eating cookies so I would have some left tomorrow after our long day.

The first six miles of that long hike took us past several abundant streams, making it hard to believe we wouldn't be seeing more for so long. I took advantage of the water, drinking three liters before 10 am. And then, I stopped to pee every half hour; once looking up to see a marmot couple watching from a ridge above. We crossed the first mountain pass of the day at 11,000 feet, the exposed area allowed us to soak in some morning sun before descending back into the trees and to our last water source. I forced another liter into my body, cameling-up for the dry stretch. My belly felt like a water balloon and the three liters I carried added 6 lbs to my pack, I wanted to ignore the number of miles ahead but started the walk anyway.

The trail that day weaved us in and out of trees, mostly traversing the sides of mountains but still offered views of ridges we'd walked in the last days, now blue and misty from the smoke of distant wild fires. Our views expanded to dark clouds, rain smearing out of them. Thunder does a wonderful thing in the mountain amphitheater, echoing between peaks. 14 miles into our "dry" stretch the rain found us. We dodged drops to roll various foods into tortillas for lunch, but spent most of the afternoon wet, moving just to stay warm. Evidence of bear became abundant, their musty stench mixing with the earthy smell of sloppy, slippery red clay. I watched footprints of those who trekked on ahead, man and animal.

The rain turned colder as we climbed to higher elevations and soon piles of pea-sized hail covered the trail. Tree line was approaching, I wouldn't miss the cold, wet branches brushing against my already clingy wet clothes, but being exposed in this weather didn't seem inviting. As I passed the last scrubby trees the rain stopped falling, but the trail turned to inches of slush. My feet numbed, not helping much in my stumbling steps to keep balanced as I slipped uphill in the snow.  I smelled the fire, but almost slid my way right by, too absorbed in my freezing, miserable battle to hear friends call out to me. We warmed for a moment, joking with the strangers who had invited us to share their primitive warmth. The sun was getting lower, but we were more encouraged by the clearing of clouds than the diminishing of time and so we hiked on.

Three short ascents stood between us and Taylor Lake. Water, camp, rest. The long miles, dreary weather, and extra pack weight cemented my legs. The climbs before me would have been trivial on another day, but today I couldn't keep up. As we peaked the third and final climb I was the last to see the hazy sky reflecting the low sun's red and orange stains as it fell onto the piercing mountain tops beyond our summit.

On day 29 I went to sleep with these memories knowing the next day would bring the end of this journey and usher me to the next adventure already calling.

My Colorado Trail - Part 2

Day 24 - "If what I saw today can exist on Earth, then I can't wait to get to Heaven to see what He has created there."

Part of what I gain in hiking is seeing great beauty, but mostly it's about feeling that beauty in my heart. There's an explicit selfishness in what I do. Leaving family and friends to pursue a journey that is purely self-fulfilling means leaving love behind. And I know that there will always be a missing link in understanding why my heart is split and called away.

The "why" is broad, but if it can be narrowed down, it's about simplicity. The simplicity of traveling solely by the means of my body. There is a happiness in movement that is more satisfying than anything else I've found. To go to sleep every night feeling that my body was designed so specifically for this use makes my heart explode in gratitude. I am capable not only physically, but opportunistically, I have been blessed with time and ability and that is when happiness become simple.

The concept of need is so overwhelming to me, so much so that it can blur my understanding of happiness. When all of my needs are met from the pack on my back, I realize what my true needs are, and they are satisfied wholly with what is surrounding me every day. Less clutter, less mess, less distraction. And when I have less, I appreciate it so much more. Out on the trail there is no constant stimulus, there is no noise, there is nothing unnecessary. Most everything is limited, and so the abundance of time becomes immeasurably meaningful. Suddenly I'm simply happy to have something, where I would otherwise see nothing.

There's a very big non-truth that somehow inches its way into my life in the "real world". I start feeling like I'm being told that I am not strong, and that I will give up, and that it's OK. I accepted this faux reality for a long time before I decided that giving up is not OK. There are days when my pack seems to weigh double, and the water sources are too few, and my food supplies are nearing empty along with my energy levels. And then every climb I thought was the last peak exposes the next even steeper climb ahead. And there is no other option but to keep moving forward. There is no quitting. Those days I spend hours listening to my body scream profanities and my mind degrade my ability. Those are the days I set up camp stronger than I was when I packed up that same morning. After those days I forget the pain and the tears that tried to stop me and all I take with me is the resilience that kept me walking. And the end of those days are the happiest. Those are the days I remember that all I had to do was simply walk.

We live in a world that is over complicated. Everyday has a time limit and we accept those boundaries without question. And we watch everyday as those walls squeeze us in to the point where we believe we can't break out. Limitless happiness is thrown at us every day just in the opportunity to be alive and we are hard-wired to chase it, but we don't. We fight against our most natural impulses. For some reason we choose against what we want most over and over again. It's complicated and scary, but when it comes down to it, happiness is a choice and I choose to simply be happy. So I hike.

My Colorado Trail - Part 1

Day 1 - "I feel like I've been closed off to letting myself mentally prepare for this trail."

This is recorded on the first page of my trail journal, and with this thought in my head I took the first steps of a 500 mile walk. Before leaving for the Colorado Trail I had no idea if I was actually going to take my hike. I had so much calling me to stay home that every day I considered just not going, even fantasized about being home that month instead of in the mountains. If you are a long distance hiker, or know of any, almost all will say that this is a terrible mind set if you have a goal to complete a trail.

I'm either too much of a chicken to have chickened out, or there is a very large drive inside me to chase the miles. On August 12th, my hiking soul-mate, Hiccup, and I walked the first 16 miles on the CT through Waterton Canyon. And it kinda sucked. Probably the most gentle trail we would encounter over the next 30 days and by our first break my hips were tightening, my arches burned through my feet, and the bones on my hips and shoulders were bruised from being squeezed by my pack straps, and we still had ten miles to hike before camp.

If you need time to think, walking eight hours a day is a good opportunity to do it. In those hours I realized that over the last months I had prepped resupplies, tested new gear, and gathered everything I would need with such a lack-luster that it was almost mechanical. Then I realized why. I had completely shut myself down from any excitement, because I was so torn on the decision to even come. That cap on my emotions transferred to the life and home I was so hesitant to leave. I had let myself miss feeling so many positive emotions of excitement, anxiety, adventure, and love, because I didn't know if I could split myself between here and there without also feeling nervousness, uncertainty, loss, and selfishness. I missed the good because I was afraid of the bad, and I didn't want to do the same during my time adventuring, even if my heart was more there than here this time.

All of a sudden I had a mission to prove that I COULD finish a thru hike, even if it wasn't the most important part of my life anymore.


Day 5 - "I am constantly reminded what a cleanse hiking is for me, sometimes not the easiest part of being out here."

The first time we climbed over 10,000 feet it was a tall, steep climb. We moved slowly, stopped often, and sucked a lot of air. Everyone says that eating well and drinking a ton of water will help while acclimating to the high elevations. Gatorade and Jolly Ranchers are life savers! But nothing changes the fact that there is less oxygen up there. When you employ the organs of respiration, especially strenuously and in high volume, you activate one of the body's powerful methods of detoxing. There is even belief that these same organs facilitate the emotional action of "letting go". Interesting things happen when you take a walk, your lungs get stronger and you breathe heavier, taking in more air and releasing more air. Your skin opens and also releases sweat and oils to balance your body temperature, which has kicked up with and increase in metabolism. Your whole body is focused on moving and so your mind begins to move on.

Sometimes the only way to move on is to step back to the build up of the past and release it one thing at a time. This hiking side-effect isn't always enjoyable, but one thing the trail more than accommodates for is the opportunity to dig deep and quietly experience your thoughts. This day I walked in a cloud of negative emotion and even though there were tears and screams one by one I sorted through what I needed let go and release what I didn't know was even still residing. With these steps I finally started to adjust to the weight I was carrying.


Day 10 - "Today I'm really missing home, and it got into my head enough to bring down my whole day."

Our bodies were tired and we were craving breakfast from a grill, not a shaker cup. And hot coffee, not instant mixed with cold water. So sometimes you walk 20 miles to camp close to a road to get a hitch early enough for breakfast in town. And after breakfast you stop at the hostel "just to see" if they have a bunk for tonight. And then you take four hitches to get to and from the trail and slack pack so you can get back to town in time for BBQ and beers. And a dry, warm bed to sleep in. And when you wake up in the morning you seriously consider going home.

Despite our "restful" day hike we woke up unmotivated. Chores and breakfast came and went and our mood changed from unmotivated to miserable. Hiccup received bad news and I had touched base back home and instead of feeling satisfied I was the most lonely and homesick I'd been. I'm still learning the meaning of "hike it out", I used to think it was the urge to cover emotional hurts with physical ones, or even just the distraction of movement, but I think now I'm getting closer to grasping that phrase.

We didn't so much hike this day as we shuffled along the trail. We spent hours sprawled on rocks and logs instead of hiking. Every short climb felt like miles, rocks jumped beneath our feet and roots reached out to grab and trip us. As we approached camp dark clouds rolled between mountain peaks and dropped cold rain.

Our whole day had been spent in the trees, the elevation wasn't high enough to reward our climbs with a vista. There was finally a very short stretch atop a ridge were the rain turned to mist and the trees had fallen away. We looked out across a range of mountains blued by the mist framed in rainbow stacked upon rainbow.

A mile later I soaked half my leg by stepping into an ice cold creek and walked the rest of the day with a soaked foot. I just "hiked it out".

Saved You A Seat!!

Big news! The bus can now have legal passengers! I've been jonesing to work on the bus, but my last adventure took me 1,200 miles away for the past month and so the bus was on hiatus. I didn't waste anytime busting on the drill when I got home though, and now I have a bench seat equipped with seat belts and a hinged top to access storage!

My brother built a similar bench for his kitchen not too long ago so I stole his plans and converted them to fit my size and structure needs. I'm getting really good at building boxes, so like the bed I started with just a simple frame made of 2x4s. The wheel well is underneath on one side, so I had to adjust the support on that side to cross over the top of the wheel, but it was easy enough, and I can't imagine it compromised the stability at all.

A metal chair rail runs along the walls on both sides and still has the holes from where the original bus seats were bolted in. I stole a couple seat belts from the old bus seats (thanks Taylor and Sons for the torque) and used the existing holes to secure them to the bus structure, for safety, of course. Dad had the great idea of cutting small slots (not sluts, Anne) in the back of the bench so the seat belts could be pulled through when needed or stored away when not.

As much as I love building boxes (I don't), my favorite part is watching each project come together as it looks more and more like the finished product. I especially enjoyed cutting and placing the sides and top of the bench and seeing the ugly wheel well disappear.

 A couple coats of stain and varnish and a pair of hinges and Rus looks less like a construction zone. I jumped the gun and picked up a 1 1/4" thick foam mattress topper and some spray adhesive. It took 15 minutes with a tape measure and utility knife before I had my seat cushion all together. Looking into colors and fabrics for seat covers, but check out the awesome pillow cases Nancy's making me! The little touches are starting to help me see the potential of calling Rus the Bus home one day.

(Like I mentioned I was away adventuring last month. I'm working on a blog or series of blogs to share my journey Thru hiking the Colorado Traill. Keep and eye out, I'll be posting to facebook and instagram when they're finished!)

Two Nights in a Tent in Ohio

If all goes according to plan (and we never really count on that), I'll be hiking through the Rocky Mountains of Colorado by the middle of this month. With another long distance hike on the horizon I've been out for a couple over nights to test out some new gear (because "browsing" at REI is not a thing) and some new techniques (time to be creative with cold ramen recipes). So far everything is meeting expectations, the only disappointment being Ohio terrain.

 As I was wading through the waste high overgrowth of nettles, thorns, and poison ivy that is the temperate forest of Ohio in July, I realized that if someone asked me what backpacking was like I would have very different answers depending on whether I had just been out for a hike or if I had been off trail for awhile. This may have had something to do with just being stung by a yellow jacket again, or being soaked with sweat followed by drenched in a thunderstorm. If asked during a hike I would probably describe overnight hiking as uncomfortable, frustrating, a test of willpower, and masochistic. In hindsight I usually get dreamy eyed before explaining that hiking is beyond fulfilling, inspiring, peaceful, self revealing, and therapeutic. I often chant the phrase "get comfortable with being uncomfortable" to myself when a hike gets tough or I'm tired after days of walking.

Here's the thing, when I'm asked why I love backpacking if feels like a totally different question, but I have exactly the same answer: it's peaceful and trying, inspiring and uncomfortable, it's frustrating and fulfilling. It's everything life is, but it's allowed to happen naturally.

And the truth is hiking in Ohio is exactly like hiking anywhere else. There's a struggle, and there's serenity; there's the odd feeling of being out of your element mixed with a strange familiarity. We don't have massive mountains with views of glacier lakes as payoff after a long climb, but the mechanism is the same. We're just going for a walk.

The Rest of the Bed

As soon as I finished the bed frame/platform, I jetted off for a weekend in the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains for a test run. Since then I've been on the road and prepping for my next long distance hike, but still itching to make some progress on the bus. I finally got my chance last week!

Just because the build has been idle, doesn't mean the planning has been. I've been drawing and redrawing layouts, designs, and color samples for weeks. I finally settled on a plan I love. I matched a stain the the basketball flooring I'm re-purposing, and it looks awesome with the color scheme I've pulled from my fabric choices.

I've decided that carpentry is all about being an expert at covering up and hiding mistakes, and I'm getting really good. Because of a mismeasurement on my bed frame, we had to patch in some spacers so the finished facing ended up flush with the top of the platform. Dumb mistake, easy fix. We also framed out the left wheel well since I'm leaving the space around it uncovered.

We cut pieces of plywood to cover the front of the bed on either side, leaving the middle open for access under the bed, and eventually a hinged table will hang there. A couple coats of stain and varnish on those and the pieces to box out the wheel well, and it was actually relatively easy to screw everything in place (I never expect anything to go that smoothly). Eventually, I'll be adding trim to cover the exposed screws and make everything look more uniform.

 With a little extra time on our hands, I borrowed dad for his saw skills and we measured and cut the section of flooring under the bed. I got too excited and went out to purchase my mattress. Full size 4" memory foam, which fists pretty well and is extremely comfy. I even laid out some fabric samples and pillows to snap a few photos. Just a couple touches have Rus feeling very much like home already. Who's ready for curtains!!!?

Fantastic Four Road Trip!

What happens when I drive across the country with three of my best friends for three weeks??? There isn't enough blog space on the entire internet to tell the tale, but here's the highlight reel!

St. Louis Arch: the elevator was closed, but we think this view is better!

Wamego, KS, The Wizard of Oz Museum: Jenny on a stick fit right in.

Monument Rocks: 15 miles of dirt roads through cow fields and chasing prairie dogs off the road.

Georgetown Loop Railroad: took a train ride through the CO mountains and toured a silver mine.

Red Rocks Amphitheater: Saw Ryan Adams play the best version of "Wonderwall" with all natural acoustics.

Summer Solstice: Celebrated Hike Naked Day by entering Utah!

Dead Horse Canyon: Unbelievable(y hot!!!) way point on our 10 hour drive to pick up Jenny.

The Grand Canyon: Kidnapped Jenny for an adventure!

Antelope Canyon: Sandstone slot canyons, nature is too cool for words!

Horseshoe Bend: Just a short walk to dangle my feet!

Zion National Park: Met up with Hiccup and Pumpkin for some life changing sunrise views!

San Francisco: Dustin played chauffeur so we could see the Golden Gate Bridge, the Full House house, and Fisherman's Warf.

Redwood National Forest: I found my new home.

Golden Beach, OR: The Oregon coast has my heart!!!

Portland, OR: Rogue Nation and VooDoo Doughnuts, so many treats!!

Seattle, WA: Photo bombed by the Space Needle!

Cushing, MN: A deep breath before returning home.

**Other major stops not pictured: Garden of the Gods and Vegas.