What a year it’s been! In last year’s Christmas card I said “anything’s possible!” which seems to have been an understatement between school and work and home and athletic feats! Perhaps in 2009, everything’s possible?
So, I got my official race time results back and I’m going to break one of the cardinal running rules* I learned in the beginner’s marathon training books I read about setting your race goal and being satisfied with it. The books have some pearls of wisdom in goal-setting that clearly apply to more than just running. One of the running books talked about determining if your goal was to be a completer or a competer.
Interestingly, this reminds me a lot of an article I read in Real Simple magazine that said there are two kinds of decision-makers: satisfiers and maximizers. Satisfiers just want to make a decision and move on. Maximizers “just” want to make the absolute best decision possible. Unsurprisingly, the article concluded that generally “satisfiers” are happier people through their ease of decision making. While “maximizers” may have some euphoric decision-making successes, they are generally stressed out all the time due to an acute case of perfection. Ha! I know which one I tend to be. So, what does making a choice versus making the best-choice-ever-invented have to do with running?
The books say that once you decide to be a completer or a competer you have to stick to what that means. So, if you choose to be a completer and to just make it across the finish line in all your ragged glory than be satisfied with that. Now, if you choose to be a competer, than damn straight, you have all rights deserved to brag or complain about your time…you, “maximizer,” you! The cardinal rule is: don’t change your tune once you’ve crossed the finish line.
All that being said…my official race results for my first half-marathon are 2 hours and 23 minutes, putting me near the middle of the pack of my division, 472 of 840 (that would be the slow “completer” division) and overall, I came in 2,364th place. Of course, I was thrilled to just make it to the finish line, even if they didn’t have a beer waiting for me, but let’s be honest (*here’s where I break the rule). I’m pretty happy with my time, even if it was 10 minutes slower than expected…
Official half-marathon "completer" time. Casey Williams was clearly not in my division (15 seconds slower, but ran 13 more miles than me!)
Eight months in the making. Man, I could have practically had a baby in the length of time I trained for the Seattle half-marathon I ran last weekend. While I have no idea what labor is like, I imagine some of the pain I experienced during the run is somewhat akin to beginning contractions. In fact, the whole eight-month process was pretty painful. The day before the race I met a friend for tea at Victrola, a hip Seattle coffee shop on 15th. While waiting for my friend to arrive I eavesdropped on the surrounding tables (a typical past time of mine that I blame on my reporter-roots 
. One woman said to another as she packed up her stuff, “Have a fun time with the race tomorrow!” And the woman responded, “Yeah, right! It won’t be fun!” So, if it sucks so much, why run a half-marathon? It’s all about the journey.
Julie and Robyn during Oct. trip to Seattle for training run and some fun
Nine months ago I got an email from my friend Robyn in Boston about running the half-marathon once she had moved to Seattle. Par for the course, I figured why not? That’s something I’ve never done. Of late, I’m becoming very aware of my addiction for trying new things. Jury’s still out on that one. It turns out training was a series of firsts – every time I ran a mile farther, training in the pouring rain, many injuries and committing to one of my most demanding goals yet. The proactivity was worth it – I ended up getting injured twice (once throwing out my back and once from Hood-to-Coast) which stalled training for weeks along with my first bad cold a few weeks ago. Not to mention, the false alarm of having to call the whole thing off when I busted my tailbone at soccer last Wednesday.
Luckily, a few days of heavy ibuprofen intake and bottom icing meant that by Saturday evening I was able to go for a short run without much pain, but a lot of soreness. Perhaps it was just a preview. After a delicious carbo-loading dinner of chicken and pasta and bread and beer, I set out my running gear and breakfast like it was the first day of school. While I was beat, when I hit the futon as my beginner’s running book had predicted, I could not get to sleep for the life of me. We’re talking the excitement of expecting to wake up to a new dollhouse or iphone on Christmas morning. But, this was definitely different – more nerves than excitement. In fact, I don’t think I have ever been this nervous in my life – some kind of internal mixture of a flock of butterflies, a gerbil on a work-out wheel and a case of carbonated soda.
Mile 8 - still alive and waving (white shirt)
We got to sleep in until 6:15 am and it was a balmy Northwest temperature of 50 degrees. Perhaps things would work out well…The real excitement started when I, Robyn and our friend, E.B., got to the race course and were blocked from the start line by mobs of other runners. Apparently, this year had unprecedented, record-setting registration. After hurdling a barrier fence we crossed the start line and my friends were off (they’re actual marathoners) and I was left to my own devices. For the first half a mile I was disgruntled that I had followed the rules and not sneaked my ipod into the race like everyone else. So, instead of hanging out with Kanye West, I kept myself entertained by people watching and sight seeing. You know, just like riding the bus. Except you’re running. For 13.1 miles. Now, that’s true public transportation.
The first five to six miles were scenic (running through downtown, over the 1-90 bridge and under the tunnel to grandmother’s house we go) and I actually caught myself thinking, “Well, this isn’t so bad. It’s just like a long run.” And then came the first major hill of many to come. It’s probably a good thing I only learned a few weeks ago that Seattle is one of the harder courses or else perhaps I would not have made it my first. It was definitely a boost to have Robyn and E.B.’s men cheering along the race course. Interestingly, I noticed there was little bystander encouragement unless you were the cheerer’s “person.” So, I just pretended all the signs were for me. For as much as I’ve complained about my sister’s cowbell during Hood-to-Coast, it sure would’ve been nice to have her around now!
Barely standing at the Seattle Marathon finish line
Mile nine brought another new experience: my first GU (liquid energy bar). Not sure if it worked, but I needed something as miles nine to eleven through the woodsy park were deceivingly serene and hilly and totally brutal. All I could think was, “this is BS,” especially with the high-schoolers behind me narrating all the upcoming hills. Awesome. At least I could look forward to my own family cheerleaders coming up near my brother’s house at mile eleven. I smiled and waved at them, all the while my body felt like a car that was blowing bolts and falling apart one piece at a time. I’ll be honest, the last two miles were not pretty. With pain shooting through my knees and historic IT injuries I ran, walked a little and then sprinted into the finish line (on principle). Two hours and twenty-three minutes and I was a finisher.
Was it worth it? Well, I could have sat on the couch in sweatpants watching a movie in the same amount of time that I had just run 13 miles. But watching a movie is being a spectator to adventure. Over the last eight months and two hours and twenty-three minutes I had been living adventure. What an amazing lesson in being present. Eight months of build up, time and commitment only for the goal to be attained before brunch. Because I had worked so hard to get to that start (and finish) line I was careful to follow my friend’s advice during the race: “Have fun and enjoy the moment.” Throughout the race I looked around thinking, how often do I get to run down the middle of a downtown Seattle street or through an arboretum full of Fall foliage or through a freeway tunnel? Hell yeah, a little pain was worth all these magical moments.
Over two months have gone by and I’m still constantly day dreaming and talking about the experiences from my road trip. As inspiration or encouragement to anyone who has yet to explore the west, I offer my 5 on 5 favorites from the trip. Ah, to be on the road again…
Learning life lessons with my trusty Patagonia in tow
5 Favorite Items:
- Patagonia travel bag (didn’t do anything without it!)
- Fleece blanket (made by Jennifer)
- AAA TripTik map guide
- Petzl headlamp
- Nike Gortex jacket (best impulse buy ever)
A great run at Sugar House Park
5 Favorite Activites:
- Tram ride to the summit and hike down to the lodge at Snowbird Ski Resort, UT
- Fastest carousel ride in the west, Missoula, MT
- Group night ride on cruiser bikes to party, Bozeman, MT
- Ranger presentation on natural history, Glacier National Park, MT
- Running at Sugar House Park, Salt Lake City, UT
A beautiful sunset at Lake McDonald, Grand Tetons.
5 Favorite Places:
- Paradise Valley, MT (Drive from Bozeman to Yellowstone)
- Salt Lake City, UT (Holy canyons!)
- Canyons along Colorado River, UT (Rte. 128 from Grand Junction to Moab)
- Grand Tetons National Park, WY (Amazing glaciers)
- Stanley National Forest, ID (Drive from Sun Valley to Wallowas)
Hot off the skillet!
5 Favorite Meals:
- Scrambled eggs and salmon from the camp stove, solo by Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park
- Buffalo Burger and fries at the Garage with Kiefer, Bozeman, MT
- Amazing appetizers at the Shallow Shaft with Mike, Alta, UT
- Shrimp cocktail and fried bananas at Temple Square with Edna, Salt Lake City, UT
- Eggs, fruit and muffin at Shade Cafe in Jackson Hole, WY
A whole different thermal world
5 Favorite Insights:
- Better to get gas now than stress out looking for a few cents cheaper.
- “May my life provide how I desire…if it is in the best interests of all things in the universe.”
- Time is irrelevant. Time does not tick in nature, it passes.
- Life is not stressful – emotions are stressful. Don’t be attached.
- Don’t think, just be present.
- BONUS: Big rocks don’t get out of the way and driving over them makes dents. Go around!
Like mother, like daughter: Who can resist posing with giant stuff?
Eighteen hundred miles into the trip, I was lost for the first time. The drive to Grand Junction, Colorado, was my first night ride and exiting the highway I found myself in the middle of strip mall no man’s land. Of course, I was nervous – the last week and a half had been leading up to tonight. I would come to find out that the last six months had likely been leading up to tonight. Or even the last five and half years. Or just maybe, my whole life.
As I mentioned before, the scent of destiny has been trailing me like sweet perfume this whole trip. Even the frustration of getting lost seemed somehow symbolic in order to disorient any expectations of control. Without getting too metaphorical or historical, I had set out to Colorado to find closure with my mother. I have openly published my experiences with my mom’s unexpected death in the past as I firmly believe that death and grief are not accepted enough in our society and need to be talked about. For some reason they are cast to the shadows with the negative stigma of a lurking grim reaper. Whereas most societies around the world have joyful and/or sorrowful rituals and ceremonies that recognize, grieve and let go of their loved ones. And so, a series of events lead me to this Marakame (shaman) in Grand Junction who practices healing and ceremonies of the native Mexican tribe, the Huichol, amongst other callings.
In appreciation for the sitting, I gave her some fine chocolate, Alder wood from Oregon, and the cigar from Jackson Hole, Wyoming. For the most part we just sat and talked around her fire pit in the back yard until it was time for her to do her work around 10 p.m. I don’t think I can dilute the meaning of the experience by describing it, because most of the ceremony was happening within her. Mainly, like so many other nights on the trip so far, I just sat by the fire adding logs as the heat died down, looking at the trillion stars across the night sky and thinking about random things. Finally, we talked about the artifacts and mementos of my mom that I had brought along and then one-by-one added them to the flames.
In many other cultures, from the Egyptians to Mexicans, part of the death ceremony includes a person’s belongings either being buried or burned with them. In the truest form of this tradition, everything a person owned, even the dirt and dust of his home, would be added to the fire in order for the person to pass on completely. While my mother was cremated, there is not a room in my home that does not have something that used to be hers and strongly reminds me of her. These are the ways that we hold on – physically, emotionally, energetically. Interestingly, it struck me the sentimental difference between things that were my mother’s versus things that she had given me as gifts. The possessions reminded me of loss, while the gifts reminded me of love. What would the world be like if the only presence we left behind was our presents? Clearly, in life we would be more preoccupied with giving than accumulating.
While it was hard to let go of her/my treasures, I was truly amazed by the power of the fire to turn everything – a lock of her hair, polyester clothing, CDs, ceramics etc. – into ashes. Ashes to ashes, right? Six months ago, I attended a different fire back in Oregon, which coincidentally this healer attended too. It was a large gathering of some 100 people from around the country and world to hear a respected speaker in the Huichol tradition. At the end of the evening around one a.m., each person was able to offer a cigar to this man and ask a heartfelt question. After mulling over questions all weekend, I had decided to ask, “How do I let go of my mom?” After giving him my cigar, he opened one eye, looked at me and said, “You don’t need a question. You need a blessing.” He took a puff of his lit cigar, pulled the ashes off the end and dotted them on my forehead like Ash Wednesday.
Curious what the blessing meant, I asked around for interpretations and then eventually went on about my life. Here in Colorado, the fire was similarily over around one a.m. and then I was shown to the guest room for the night. In the morning, the Marakame and I met and talked to debrief the night before. We talked about how the ceremony had been a modification of the traditional one due to the long time lapse since death, but that it had also been more than just a death ritual.
We have lost almost all connection to ritual in our culture. While we may have strong traditions or habits, we don’t necessarily know or understand their meaning. In many cultures, birthdays are not significant for the date, but the growth. Given the timing, it made perfect sense for the Marakame to say that this ceremony was also about my own initiation as a woman. Six months after asking the question and just one week after my birthday, I found the answer of how to let go of my mom. At a certain age, we must all be initiated into adulthood – as females, we must let go of our mother and become our own woman. Within just twelve hours, I left Grand Junction with peace of mind and a strong sense of direction.
NOTE: I enjoy the company of new and old friends at monthly fires in Portland as part of the Sacred Fire Community. The fires, which happen around the world, are a time for people to come together for heartfelt conversation as we so often forget to do these days. You can learn more about local fires at http://www.sacredfirecommunity.org/ and plant spirit medicine healing at http://bluedeer.org/.
Clearly, my internet connectivity has been intermittent throughout the trip, but upon reaching Salt Lake City I was able to log-in to civilization for a day and a half. I received an interesting chain email that I had never seen before from my friend, Katie, in Texas reporting six random things in her life. It was fascinating to me that for as well as you can know some people, there are still surprises. I had no idea she had joined her church’s women’s choir. If this life detail hadn’t come up in our frequent phone conversations, what exactly were we talking about all those unlimited minutes? Come to think of it, we’ve had hour-long conversations about the most effective ways to clean the bathroom. Fascinating. Clearly, our conversations need to get more random, as that seems to be where the meat is about our goings on. So, this post is dedicated to Katie for her random and faith-based inspiration.
Six Random Things (I did) in Salt Lake City:
Deluxe serivce at Gateway Mall in SLC
1. While hanging out with Edna, my sister’s ma-in-law, at Gateway shopping center, we got a personal door-to-door escort via golf cart from Chico’s two blocks down to Anthropologie. For a minute there I thought we were on Rodeo Drive, not in Salt Lake City (given this is one of the new, flashy parts of the city developed for the Winter Olympics in 2002).
2. At Anthropologie, while cruising the sale racks I ran into two girls from my hometown high school, Erin and Abby, who I haven’t really seen since graduation (yes, eight years ago). Randomly, I had a dream that night before about being at our Grant High School reunion.
Who parked my car down here?
3. Down in the parking lot below Mormon central (a.k.a. Temple Square) I spotted my own personal license plate on someone else’s car. Apparently, there is a network of LDS-only tunnels down there from the Temple to the other buildings. Word is they have their own Mormon golf carts to get around (maybe the one at the shopping center just couldn’t handle all the rules here and escaped to the civilian life).
4. I rode the glass elevators at the Salt Lake City Public Library, which is now officially my favorite modern library. While I hold a deep love of traditional, hard wood, dimly lit libraries that make me sneeze, this one is truly impressive. The elevators glide through the open mezzanine that separates the stacks and the balconies of study spaces, and contains one of the most creative installation pieces I have seen in years. A cluster of butterflies perched “reading” mini open books all suspended from the ceiling in the form of a head. I even pushed through my new-found fear of standing on suspended structures to venture down the primarily glass stairs for a closer look.
5. I used the fanciest outhouse ever at Edna’s cabin. We’re talking framed pictures hanging on a white painted interior, even a latch to hold up the white seat for you! Jim, Edna, Daisy (some kind of four-pound lap dog) and I traveled the eight miles from their home above the city to the mountain cabin in the Mill Creek National Forest to roast nitrate-free sausages over an open fire pit for dinner.
International Mormon missionaries and Jesus (no pants allowed)
6. The most random thing of all: there are no male Mormon missionaries at Temple Square. Yes, not only did I notice there was a disproportionate number of hand made skirts walking around, but I asked about it. The nicest missionary, Sister Choi from South Korea, told me that they tried having both genders back “then” (1950s?) and people were intimidated by the “security personnel-looking” young Mormon men in their uniform suits. Thus, there are only male Elders there. I appreciated the PR spin, but it still smelled a little fishy. While I can’t identify with their lifestyle specifically, I did find it incredibly impressive to be in the presence of people so very devout and very focused on their way of life. The acoustics of the Tabernacle meeting hall is pretty darn insane too – you can hear a pin drop. Seriously, during the tour a Sister dropped a pin on the podium and you could hear it from the back row of the hand-painted simulation Oak pews.
6 1/2. Speaking of painted pews and transporting tons of granite via wagon over 40 years to build the Temple – Mormons are industrious! Hence, its nickname as the “Beehive State,” which I inquired about due to the honey hives icon for all the highways. I guess, a Jell-o jiggler isn’t as obvious on a road sign. I’m sure you already know Utah consumes the most green Jell-o in the country. Clearly, too many random things in Utah to stick to six, good thing I’ll be passing back through after my next stop in Colorado.
I admit: I’m a late adopter. I am a bit old-fashioned and thus, skeptical of technology. I love hard-bound books, hand-written letters and impossibly folded maps. While I realize technology is necessary to make these, it is not inherent in their use. Most embarking on a road trip to new states/cities/the middle of nowhere would find comfort in a GPS system and a British female’s voice telling them what to do, but I wanted to follow the road.
My new BFF - the AAA TripTik
Let me introduce you to my good friend, TripTik. How did we meet? A few weeks before the trip I stopped by AAA to pick up state guide books and learned of the greatest thing known to road tripping – the TripTik (though i-Trips and snacks are close behind). As a AAA member not only do I get free tour books, but apparently a free personalized map of my trip. Side note: No offense, AAA, but the tour books suck. The hotels and restaurants are not helpful – especially on a budget – and there is barely any information on local attractions. The camping book has somewhat complete listings, but the directions couldn’t get you around the block, none the less to obscure campsites.
But, the TripTik is sweet. It is a reporter-style flip book individually hand-created per your route with each page covering a chunk of the highway with mileage marked and icons for exits, rest stops, gas/food/lodging etc. Each page opens to a broader contextual map of the highlighted area. Best part about it is no-folding necessary, which is perfect for a solo pilot sans shotgun. And, of course, for those nostalgic folk like me, it is a great diary of the trip and pit stops.
If you are not a AAA member now, if not for the free towing and unlocking services, the *free* TripTik alone is worth joining!
I had my personal best today for the fastest campsite pack-up yet. I’m down from two hours to one. That may seem like a long time but includes my developing ritual of morning chat with the neighbors, hot cup of tea and saying good bye to the lake, river etc. It was a quick drive down to Jackson Hole for breakfast, where par for the course with the entire trip destiny seemed to be fueling my engine. As I parallel parked on main street (which becomes the main run of the ski slopes directly behind “downtown”) just two blocks from the center square, I looked up to see a breakfast restaurant AND a cigar shop across the street (cigar will come into play later in the trip and may very well be the determining factor to my ever present feeling of a destined journey).
Breakfast at Jackson Hole's "Tin Shed"
Turned out third time was the charm for breakfast. In a quest for a shorter line, I asked a local for where to eat besides the two overflowing places on the main streets. I was directed to go down a side alley, where I walked into a strong feeling of deja vu. Wait, wasn’t I here last Sunday? Hipsters, new age techno music, scrambles, side patio…this place is eerily similar to North Portland’s Tin Shed (except that you get a quarter of the scramble for four times the price). While it’s known as Shades Cafe in Jackson Hole, henceforth I will think of it as the “Wood Shed.” I stayed for an hour eating and reading my book on life design. For a moment I actually forgot I was on a trip and just enjoyed Sunday morning brunch like a local. Now, that’s what I call transcendent tourism!
Tourist trap bear attack!
I continued the luxurious morning by satisfying my guilty pleasure for tourist junk shopping. I entered a store with more wildlife than Yellowstone: mountain lions, deer, bears, jackalopes! Well, I’m skeptical that last one is actually an animal, I mean, seriously, what evolutionary purpose would antlers serve for a rabbit? They don’t battle for mating – everybody knows rabbits are sluts. While I don’t necessarily think I’ve seen them in their natural habitat, it has been amazing the variety of wildlife I have seen from spitting distance on this trip. (If you don’t know, I’m actually a pretty accomplished distance spitter, so that’s about 15-25 feet away.) A black bear, elks, deer, crows, magpies, blue jays, bison, rabbit, chipmunk, pig and a baby billy goat, which I’d have to say was my favorite.
It’s too bad that I wasn’t destined to visit Jackson while my Willamette friend was still here, that being said I feel like this trip and visiting these places has been many years in the making. But, why now? Well, there are several specific reasons that spurred the trip, including a window of opportunity from commitments, i.e.: work, school etc., but that still doesn’t answer the question, why now? That I can’t answer. But there does seem to be some significance to the places I’m passing through: some blasts from the past, some new to the present and some alluding to the future. From what I can navigate, destiny’s map seems to only appear to us with a trail of the past leading to “you are here.” For now, I happen to know I’m destined for Salt Lake City, so I make a quick stop at the cigar shop and then steer the Subby down the long road south to Utah.
All the distractions of Yellowstone (I must’ve pulled off the side of the road for pictures 20 times) slowed my journey to Wyoming and the Grand Tetons, so that by the time I pulled into the Jenny Lake campsite it was full. I back-tracked up to Jackson Lake and quickly found a spot overlooking the lake next to a nice couple from Kansas City who informed me that as of a half-an-hour before Jenny Lake was still open. Damn it. The first disappointment of the trip. I promptly got over it considering that since I hadn’t made reservations anywhere it was bound to happen and I had been lucky so far. If anything, it gives me a reason to come back to this beautiful place!.
Without reservations, I had chosen freedom over security. This trip has reinforced how much of a gift freedom and independence are. While I think we all have access to freedom and independence, some of us take advantage of them more than others. Maybe because we take them for granted or associate them with tangible things, like having or lacking money. Honestly, it is hard for me to understand what it would be like not to feel empowered by either of them. Going out and doing something I’ve never done before or exploring something on my own seems so normal to me. It has been striking to me through out this trip to see the surprise on people’s faces when I say I’m traveling alone. I don’t think it’s just because I am a woman or young, but because I am on my own. Honestly, it has made all the difference to do this trip independently with the freedom to pull off the road whenever I want, eat (or not) when I feel like it, be grumpy in the morning without guilt…
Post-swim at Jackson Lake by the Grand Tetons
Feeling grimy and hungry, I brought leftovers down to the lake to sit and enjoy the view of the Grand Tetons in the distance. How amazing how far I had come from the morning when I had woken up on the “wrong side of the tent” from lack of sleep, wondering: Why am I doing this trip again? Has it only been a week? After so many miraculous sights and a little shopping today, I could sit by the lake and again marvel at the moment being presented to me. Since I was going to Jackson Hole in the morning (I spent all of 17 hours in the Grand Teton National Park) I decided to attempt a cleansing swim in the lake, not taking into account that the Tetons have glaciers = ice = ice water = lake. Even with goosebumps the size of the Tetons on my legs and arms it was a refreshing opportunity as the sun set on another day.
I took the scenic route to Yellowstone National Park by cruising from Bozeman down through Paradise Valley to the North entrance at Gardiner. This valley is exactly what I bet the pioneers were imagining in their quest West: a river rippling through the center of the luscious green valley speckled with ranches surrounded by rust colored rock canyons. I was amazed to enter the giant stone arch into the park and immediately be immersed in the old west with a deer crossing over the road. In someways it feels as if we are invading these animals’ habitat with our roads and campsites and lodges. But I guess that is the age old question (much older than this 130+ year old park): Where do humans fall in the hierarchy of the planet? Do we have a right to dominate (or just enjoy) the natural world?
Yellowstone hot springs south of Mammoth
I must say it would be a shame not to have access to these 50 million odd acres of nature, which is clearly why Yellowstone was the first national park. This has to be the most amazing natural environment I have ever been to…yet. The diversity is astounding. It’s as if God was experimenting with new ecosystem recipes, adding some mountains and prairies here, some deciduous forests there, and oh hell, let’s see what some micro bacterial hot springs will do (metaphorically speaking, of course, since I believe in evolution). Speaking of evolution, the animals there are enormous. This whole place, giant mountains and never ending valleys, puts you in perspective – we humans are each such a tiny part of this vast, living planet. While driving along the main highway going south through the park all the sudden traffic slowed to a halt and a group of elk moseyed across the road and directly in front of the hood of my car. I felt like I was in Jurassic Park. If I was to stand next to the female elk, I think I would’ve reached her shoulder – I can’t even imagine encountering a dinosaur!
That night I camped south of the Mammoth hot springs at Indian Creek. I was amazed to find that I felt alone as I hiked through the forest to sit by the creek in a likely Bison bed of matted down grasses and then made dinner and sat by the fire. It hit me that this was the first night of the trip that I was truly alone. The Californians at the next campsite didn’t get back until late and so I didn’t make any friends that night. I enjoyed the blessing of a warm and vibrant fire as I read Newsweek and then sorted through my thoughts from the last week. There is such a fine and fascinating line between solitude and loneliness. By the fire I had the peace and company of solitude, but then in my summer tent there was the void of loneliness that invites the unwanted bed mates: anxiety and fear. The Elk playing their mating flutes loud into the night along with intermittent rain showers kept me up most the night fearing God knows what.
Injured bison walking the highway
The next day I tiredly explored the rest of the park playing tourist by taking pictures of the Paint Pots hot springs and Old Faithful blowing its top, gawking at the injured Bison hobbling down the highway and shopping at the Old Faithful Inn and General Store. I don’t know why, by I have always loved tourist traps. While I find most of it superfluous and wasteful, I love to see what people think up to put names on as souvenirs (and I must admit I have a weakness for “Julie” stuff). The junior park ranger gear was pretty dang cute, whereas most of the huckleberry concoctions looked questionable. To be safe I stuck to mostly buying the chocolate candies labeled as different kinds of animal poop. Who doesn’t want poop as a gift?
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