Yosemite, Part 2 - The Day of the Long Hike

Saturday in Yosemite was epic. It was the day of the long hike.

Yosemite boasts several impressive attractions. Besides the waterfalls, the mariposa grove (think HUGE trees) and mirror lake, it has miles and miles of glacier-cut granite. After millions of years of ice-ages and global warmings, we are left with monumental structures like El Capitan, Merced, and HALF-DOME.

Ah, Half-Dome. Our mission and our day's journey. From our campsite, it was an estimated 17-miles up to the top. This was to be our "big kid hike". It would take all day.

HIKING PREPARATIONS

Our story begins Saturday night, 'round the picnic table. Dinner was over, eyelids were starting to droop, and lunch/snacks had to be made for the next day's hike. Everyone brought out their coolers and bags of food to prep.

Now, we are campers. No one at that campsite had a problem "roughing it". But we're also all foodies. How does a foodie camp? Quite deliciously, actually.

Organic fruits and vegetables were stashed in various coolers, with the all-natural peanut butter and homemade whole wheat bread. Someone had brought almond butter with flax seed for the PB&J sandwiches. There was homemade trail mix, shredded carrot salad with mint, and stovetop espresso for the morning. By the lantern light, you could see a veritable garden of goodness spread out on the table. Phrases like, "could you pass the gruyere cheese?" and "I've got your prosciutto" could be heard echoing through the trees. I'm sure our neighbors must have thought we were nuts. Oh yeah, we had those too - raw almonds, walnuts, yum. A delicious way to enjoy the outdoors.

We packed it in and went to bed, alarms set for 4:30 AM. Oh yes. We were going to get a nice, early start on the trail.

One note here: Bob and I didn't go to bed right away. We volunteered to stay by the fire until it died down, which only took about a half-hour, but it certainly wasn't boring. Why? We met Sebastian.

Sebastian was our tent neighbor and a nice young man from Denmark. He wandered over to our campsite wondering if he could smoke his cigarette with us. It would take 7 1/2 minutes, he promised. Upon lighting up, he then launched into a very interesting half-hour mulling over the wonders of the US. He was there to travel the whole country, he had 58 days left to go, and he said there was only one thing in America that had blown him away.

Walmart.

Yep. He'd seen the Golden Gate Bridge, he'd seen LA, he'd been all over California and had just hiked through Yosemite, and nothing compared, in his opinion, to Walmart. The sheer size and volume of stuff. The amount of everything. The ridiculously low prices. And the apples. "You put your red apples with the other red apples!" he said, "The Green apples are with the other green apples! It's amazing! I took so many pictures!"

I include this little story so the next time you're in Walmart, you can realize you're standing in someone's eighth wonder of the world.

UP AND AT 'EM

It has been ages since I've slept on the earth floor, and certainly never in below-freezing temperature. Even with a mummy-sleeping bag and blankets piled on top, the high-20's felt pretty chilly. Drafts would waft in my bag, and I kept waking up, shivering, rolling over, trying to find a comfortable spot. This happened all night long, until early morning, when I finally found a comfortable spot and started to drift off, my friend (and the designated alarm clock for us all) gave us the "good morning, time to get up". So much for a good night's sleep before a long day of hiking.

It was cold. It was even worse outside of the sleeping bag, and then Bob and I had to change into our hiking clothes. BURRRR! We layered up, bounced outside for a quick cup of coffee and some light breakfast and at 6 AM, headed out, the sky just starting to lighten, the very early beginnings of the day.

YOU TAKE THE HIGH ROAD, I'LL TAKE THE LOW ROAD

It was an easy walk from our campsite. We hit the trail, climbing up a steep hill for about 10 minutes before we found a mini summit to stretch our warmed muscles and take some pictures.

This was the trail marker and mileage sign for our hike. There was another trail option, a hike to Mt. Whitney. Only 211 miles to go!

We'll do that one another time.

I won't bore you with all the details of every part of the hike. It was beautiful, really beautiful, and SO hard. I've posted pictures below so you can see some of the more exciting elements. Here are some of the highlights of the trip:

          1.) Must of the first part of the trail was covered in snow. This we had not anticipated. And by snow I mean ice. The part of the trail hidden by the sun had been slightly warmed then refrozen so many times, it was a sheet of ice. Those who had gone before us had dig deep footholds in it, but it was still pretty slippery to climb. Was it the best idea to climb it? Who knows. We did it anyway.

            2.) We went through oodles of different conditions, elevations, and trails. Some were flat and coated in pine needles, while others were dirts trails covered in piles of of snow. The difficult part of the trail, however, was positioned right by a waterfall and was one long staircase of granite rock. Sure, it was pretty, but try doing the stair master for an hour and half on rickety stone steps. Great for the gluts, but wicked intense.

         3.) About 10 AM, we found the bathrooms. Yay! Hooray for camping lite! (I'll spare you any pictures)


CRITICS AND SKEPTICS


Being the early birds, we didn't see too many hikers on the trail with us. We saw a group of four at the bathroom stop, and later we ran into two hikers trekking the opposite way through the small piles of snow. These two were serious hikers. Backpackers. A man and a woman with trekking poles, snow shoes, all the gear, looking like they just stepped out of an REI catalogue. We greeting them enthusiastically (they greeted us back less enthusiastically) and the something like the follow conversation took place:

US: "Where are you headed?"
THEM: "akdflkjasodijf" (I don't remember their answer)
US: "Are you coming from half-dome?"
(We receive a look like we've just pulled dead skunks out of our packs)
THEM: "Half-dome? No."
(pause)
US: "Well, where did you come from?"
THEM: "kdfjosdf Lake"
US: "Oh...wow" (no clue where that is)
THEM: "yeah"
US: "We're going to half-dome"
THEM: (exchanging glances) "You won't be able to. It's covered in snow this time of year."
US: "oh."
(pause)
US: "Well, we're going to try and get as far as we can!"
THEM: "You won't have much luck"

And that was pretty much it. Boogers. Clearly a ragtag team of young adults in sneakers and sweatshirts was beneath them. After all, how could we make it to half-dome? We didn't have cool trekking poles like they did.

Good thing we have determination. And Spunk. Lots of Spunk. Don't we look spunky?

 So on we went. Through the forest, walking over snow, jumping over creeks, walking on creeks that spilled down our path, eventually stopping in a giant pine grove for lunch. We were getting tired at that point, and we had been hiking for over 6 hours. We needed to leave enough time to turn around and get back down before dark.

We made a plan - by 1:30 PM (it was noon-ish), we would turn around. We had 1 hour and 30 minutes to make it to the top.

On we went. We met back up with the group of four hikers we'd seen at the bathrooms. They told us not to continue. "You'll reach knee-deep snow in about five minutes," they said, "You'll have to turn around - we did."

We had no intentions of turning around, and we didn't. Yes, there was knee-deep snow 5 minutes after meeting them, but it wasn't hot coals, for heavens sake. We just trudged on through. We trudged up for another hour and a half until we saw a break in the trees. By then, there was only one track of footprints from someone before us. If we were still on the trail, we had no idea. We'd probably left it long ago.

That was our summit. That was the closest we could safely get to the top. At that point we didn't know where the ledge was, or if the snow would give way in any one part, so we staked our claim and called it done. We had made it to the base of half-dome and little dome, which was quite an accomplishment given the conditions.

(NOTE: I wasn't wearing a lot of sunblock, and if you lean in close enough, you should be able to hear the sound of my skin crisping from the reflection of the sun on the snow)

WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN

With out accomplishment in-hand, we descended. Down the snow we slipped and slid, turning our shoes into skis. It worked, too. What had taken us 1 hour to climb us took us 15 minutes to get down. We started to run into more and more hikers. We were elated at our victory, and practically running down the mountainside from happiness and the sheer pleasure of walking downhill rather than up. Our muscles were happy, our packs were lighter from lunch, we had beaten out all the other hikers and had proven the skeptics and critics wrong. HA!

And then we hit the lord of the rings-esque stairs.

Going up was MUCH easier than going down. Besides the fact that hikers now swarmed the area, each step was steep and slippery, and around that exact same time, two things happened: My body said, "yes, well, this has been lovely, but I'm plum exhausted now, could we please stop?" and my face started flushing bright red and hot from the sunburn and fatigue. Put a fork in me, I was done.

But we still had 4 miles left to go, most of it steep, downhill terrain.

I can honestly say that was the only miserable point in the whole hike. Every step we took on those steps had to be calculated with an mental energy I no longer possessed, and there wasn't any shade to hide my face from the hot sun. My knees felt every blow of the decent, with my weak thigh muscles unable to give as much aid to each step.

Thank goodness for the mist trail.

With only a few miles to go, we hit the mist trail, a trail that ran right alongside a huge waterfall. Mist from the falls covers the trail, so hikers will often bundle up with a poncho or rain jacket. That mist was bliss on my face, and it made for some good pictures too.

A few miles later, we were done.

Given a few alternate routes we had to take due to closed trails, we estimated we had hiked 19 miles total from campsite to half-dome and back. We were exhausted. Elated, but exhausted. We drove to the nearby village, took showers, ordered the most delicious pizza ever, and reveled in our achievement.

We all walked a little tenderly that night. My feet have never been so sore. But we did it! We celebrated with s'mores and wine and a nice, long sleep.

Some day I'll go back and climb all the way up to half-dome, but I don't know that it will mean as much as climbing to its base in knee deep snow. We overcame everything for that summit, and nothing will ever compare to our dogged determination.

Yosemite, Part I

Alright friends, I did it. I went camping. I am officially a wilderness woman.

Well, as long as the wilderness has a nice, warmed bathroom area, showers, a nearby grocery and supply store, a pizzeria and a cafe. Yosemite has gone to all lengths to make sure those who want to camp can do so with all the comforts of home. There's even a museum for those who want a helping of education with their camping experience.

And you know what? I enjoyed every extra element. I was at Yosemite to camp, and I did. There was a tent, a sleeping bag, a camp fire, and a bear box (more on that later). I had to bundle up when it fell below 30 degrees, I had to bring my own clean water to drink, and I fell asleep on a hard earth floor, amidst beatuiful pines, listening to the creek 10 feet away bubble through the night. I was wearing long johns, for heavens sake. I call that camping.

All the extras only made the experience that much more enjoyable. I could kick back with a s'more instead of worrying about mountain lions, and a trip to the loo in the middle of the night wasn't a horrible experience that would scar me for life. I was even able to pick up fresh-brewed coffee with a coffee mate creamer at the smaller convenience store in the morning.

This was camping lite. Skim camping. And it was soooo good.

The more camping I do, the "rougher" I'm going to get. Experience by experience, I'll eventually leave behind the comforts of "camping lite" as I shape and mold myself into a true wilderness woman. There will be a day when I'll be a real backpacker, with water purifying tablets and a big backpack.

But why rush things?

I've come away from this experience rejuivenated. After three days in the great outdoors, surrounded by wonderful friends and breathtaking scenery, hiking 19 miles in varied conditions to a summit and sleeping under the stars, I feel alive again. I can accomplish anything. I can go after goals long abandoned and tackle projects I've put off. I've come away with a greater understanding of what is important in life. Oh yes, and I've decided I want to do this camping thing again, soon. Nothing can compare to a communal with nature.

If you're interested in all the specifics and the goings on in Yosemite, read on, dear friend. I give to you Yosemite, part I. Enjoy.

DRIVING AND ARRIVING

Friday morning, after packing up what seemed to be everything we own into the car, stopping off at the local grocery store for a bag of ice and swinging by the gas station, Bob and I were off. Destination: Yosemite. Mission: Camping. Two urban kids ready to get back to the land.

Fortunately, Sacramento is fairly close, and after a mere three hours of driving, we arrived at Yosemite National Park. It would be another hour to our campsite, but that hour was beautiful. Winding roads hugged huge mountains of granite, while the river below us gurgled and bubbled happily in the sun. It was clearly spring - trees around us were budding, sprouting tiny leaves. Flowers were just starting to poke out of places, and there were small piles of snow here and there on the side of the road. Waterfalls came out of nowhere, spilling and trickling over the smooth mountain sides, the product of melting snow.

It's been a long time since I've been in nature, let alone camping. It's intoxicating. Trying to take it all in, I didn't realize how much I was swerving on the road - until my darling husband, his face a little white, asked me gently if I would like him to drive.

We arrived at our campsite, and I was out of the car and running around like a little kid. The strong, sweet smell of pine mixed with the faint scent of bonfire filled the air. We were positioned right next to a creek and a set of big rocks, the perfect setting. Our friends were about an hour behind us, trekking up from LA, which gave Bob and I some time to chill, take pictures and get acquainted with the Bear Box.

THE BEAR BOX

"What is a bear box?", you might ask. Well, I'm so very glad you did. A Bear Box is a sort of locker where you put all of your food, scented and tasty items to keep a bear from raiding your campsite. This includes food, chapstick, hand lotion, toiletry items, candy, gum, wrappers, napkins that have touched food, etc. The bear can smell anything and everything, and while he can try to get into the locker, he will be unable to when it's properly closed.

A Bear will also try and get into your car if he smells something in there. A co-worker of Bob's told him that she unknowingly had a piece of candy under the seat of her car while she was camping in yosemite, and a bear bashed in her car window to grab it. On average, 13 cars are damaged in Yosemite every year by hungry bears.

Nothing scented can stay in your tent or car. Everything must be kept in the bear locker at all times, including items that have touched food and may still have a scent. Backpacks and purses had to go in because of crumbs, gum wrappers and the like. It can be a little annoying, but I'd rather be safe.

Bears aren't the only wildlife you need to worry about. A cheeky squirrel met Bob and I as we were unpacking our car. Comfortable coming right up to us, he has clearly had experience with campers. I turned my back on the car for a moment, focused on the bear box, and when I turned around, I saw the squirrel jumping out of my car. Welcome to Nature. From then on, the doors stayed closed unless we needed something.

FRIENDS AND TENTS

An hour after Bob and I found the campsite, our friends arrived. There is nothing like reunions. Lots of hugging, lots of excitement, more hugging, running around, excited, etc. It's been a long, lonely month in Sacramento. To see friends again, to talk with people I know and love, was joyous.

There were 6 of us, with two still on the road. We had two campsites reserved, and divided the space into the tent side and the eating side. We set up tents (NOTE: Setting up a tent in the outdoors is infinitely easier than setting one up in an apartment which happens to be just a few square feet larger than your tent), filled bear lockers, and when all was said and done, strapped on our hiking shoes and went for a mini-adventure before dinner.

Our exploration of Yosemite was about to begin.

WATERFALLS & CAMPFIRES

To kick things off, the 6 of us took off to Yosemite Falls. Yosemite National Park is proud to have the largest waterfall in North America, and late April is peak waterfall time. All the snow is melting and the waterfalls swell, spilling impressive amounts of water over every minute.

We had the opportunity to witness it firsthand. Walking through a beautiful trail, we saw great big piles of snow, and could hear a thundering in the distance. Cue: the falls.

The sun had hidden behind half-dome by this point (more on half-dome in Yosemite, Part II) and the air chilled quickly. We took oodles of pictures, then headed back to camp to meet up with the last couple to arrive and to eat a delicious dinner.

There is nothing like a campfire. It cannot be compared to anything else. The smell of the smoke filling the air with its roasty, toasty, wonderful warm scent reminices ghost stories, marshmallows, chili in the fall, friends and good conversation, apple pie and hot chocolate, cool, crips air and bundled sweatshirts.

That said, building a fire is a different story, especially if you're out of practice. Our first night, all the boys connected with their manly intuition and contributed to the starting of the first campfire of the trip. After a lot of smoke, pine needles and wood placement, we had a nice roaring fire to enjoy along with delicious fajitas. We didn't stay up too late - we were going on what we termed the "big kid hike" the next day.

Zipping into my sleeping bag that night, I was struck by how blessed I really am. There was something about the simple conditions and the crisp, cold night air that made me aware of how much I appreciated the little things. I felt alive and present.

I also realized how uncomfortable it can be to sleep on the hard floor.

As I settled in, I couldn't stop a little shudder of excitement. Here I was - tent, sleeping bag, campfire smell all over me. Here I was.

I was camping.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

I can get Uncle Ben's Brown Rice in 90 seconds.


It's amazing, isn't it? Have you ever tried to make brown rice from scratch? It takes 45 minutes. I can get it in 90 seconds.
Uncle Ben is just one of a long line of instant products out there on the market. I can get "mashed potatoes" by adding milk, butter and stirring. I can get a cake by adding two eggs, oil, and cake mix. Soup? Just pop open the can. Cookies? No prep required, simply slap that pre-made dough on a cookie sheet. I don't have to wait for bread to bake, or cut up vegetables for a stir-fry, or even think of what to put in a salad. It's already baked, frozen and mixed.


The instant phenomenon isn't just a food thing. I can communicate with anyone in the world through the internet instantly. I can turn on the TV and be saturated with information and entertainment instantly. If I don't want to wait for the commercials, I can now fast-forward through the four minute of marketing to what I want to watch, now. I go to the store for instant savings and I scour lines everywhere to find the shortest so I can check out now.


Some may see this world of instant gratification that we've built as a positive thing. I'm not saying it's all bad. Sure, I like to have things now. I don't like to wait around. But why is that? It's because I have lost the ability to wait. My expectation is to get things NOW, an expectation that has been built from years of living in a culture where faster is better, and we're working on getting quicker every day.


In my humble opinion, it's not always a good thing. This fast-forward mentality has made us impatient people with a skewed view of what is important. We have lost the ability to wait patiently, and we are willing to sacrifice quality for time. This compromise is having detrimental effects.


I saw a child recently in Target who wanted some Easter goodies, and he wanted them NOW. After several "no"'s, he did what many children do - he broke out into a knock-down, drag-out tantrum that shook the walls of the store. Screaming, kicking, his message was clear. He wasn't getting what he wanted NOW, and he was expressing his frustration accordingly.

Does it remind you of anyone? How did you last react when your internet connection was slow? Or when there was a long line at Starbucks? Or how about when you called up the bank and had to go through the automated voice-recognition system - "I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Please say your 12-digit pin number and the date of your last transaction..." "I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Please say your..."


The expectation for our world to be lightning fast is taking its toll on our stress levels.


The APA's national survey recently examined the stress levels of the public. The "2009 survey finds that 75 percent of adults reported having experienced moderate to high levels of stress in the past month, and more than half said that their stress levels increased in the past year." What does thing mean? Well, for many American is means higher blood pressure, headaches, weight gain, weight loss, loss of sleep, weakened immune systems, constant colds and infections, depression, anxiety, and a lesser quality of life. 


Which brings me to the greater of the two evils - lesser quality. Americans, as a general rule, have sacrificed quality for speed, and that is wrecking havoc on our health and our lives.


When was the last time you cooked a meal from scratch? Or invested an impossible amount of time into a creative project and saw it through to the end? When was the last time you sacrificed time for quality?


As I mentioned before, it's so easy to get instant food. But how can they make so many things instant? Preservatives. Additives. Extra fats added for flavor. Extra sugars. Extra salt. A lot of your instant options have the shelf-life of the cardboard box they're in. Or how about take-out? I'm fairly certain Burger King isn't in the back room lovingly plucking fresh produce from their indoor garden to make your burger and fries. Their money is made on the ability to give you what you want now, and that means cheaper, lesser-quality food laden in extras so you can't tell what it is.


Why is homemade bread such a luxury? Because of the amount of time it takes to make. Once you've made the dough, you have to knead the dough for 10 minutes, then you have to let it rise for two hours. Then you have to divide it and let it rise for another hour. Then you have to bake it for an hour. Then you have to let it cool. Hours, and hours, but I challenge you to show me a store-brand bread that tastes as good as fresh, homemade bread right from the oven.


It's the same with the different processes of life. When I was first learning how to sew, I was appalled at the amount of time it took to make a pair of PJ pants. I had this concept that I could cut once, sew one line, and BOOM! I would have the most comfortable, perfectly sewn pair of PJ's ever. What I found instead was a long, tedious process. It took me two days of hours and hours at a time, and ended up looking a little misshapen. DAYS! I could have gone to the GAP and gotten a shirt that would look like a real piece of clothing, not some jumbled of material and thread! Why was I wasting time my time?


Because those things we invest time into shape us, grow us and develop our skills. The meals we take pains to make from scratch are generally better for our bodies and health-giving rather than nutrient-deficient.


If you gave a child a calculator in elementary school and showed him how to add, he would always get the right answer in an addition problem, but he would never know why. His mental development would be stunted. It's harder to learn math - I hated it. I kicked and screamed at every turn, but I would be lacking critical skills without it. Students will say, "Why do I have to learn algebra? When am I ever going to use this?" I can tell you I have never used Algebra in the "real world", but I would not be able to look at life and make intelligent reasonings without it.


Please understand me when I say instant is not bad. Some days, that instant rice is going to be the blessing of my day. But what is the instant mentality doing to me?  I need to make sure my instant world isn't making me into a stressed, tasteless, unhealthy, stupid individual. I've already felt the effects.


So what can we do? Rebel a little. This week, take one thing in your life with a hard road and an easy road, and choose the hard one. Make mashed potatoes from scratch. Plant seeds for your garden rather than going to the nursery and picking up the pre-grown varieties, and study how to germinate. Grind your coffee beans rather than picking up a pre-ground variety. Read the newspaper rather than watching the news on TV. Bake your own bread. Exercise your brain, your talents, your legs, and look for where your instant is causing your life quality to diminish. I know I will be.

"I don't have time for that", you may say. We all have the same 24-hours, 7 days, 12 months. It's your decision how you use them. Why spend it stressed? Why have a lesser quality of life than you can? God has given us each day to embrace, enjoy and grow into.

It's time to put down the instant and experience life at a different pace. After all, good things come to those who wait.

Vanity Fair

I have always been annoyed at the complexity women are faced with in comparison to men when it comes to beauty and fashion.  

We don't just need a haircut, we need a stylist. We can't walk out into public without first applying a dollop of make-up. We have a different shirt for every occasion, a different shoe for every sidewalk and a list of fashion do's & don'ts a mile long.

And then there's the really fun stuff: Control-top panty hose, polyester slimmers, girdles, camis; bras, underwire or otherwise, cotton or polyester, two-cup, band, clip in the front or back, lace, plain white or polka-dots. Slip or no slip? Thong, boy-cut, bikini or brief? 

Vanity is a lot of work. And a boy doesn't have anything like the tuckers, suckers, slimmers, or lengtheners, so readily available to us females.

Well, apparently they now have some options for themselves. 

Flipping my way through the Sunday paper inserts looking for coupons I found this:

A man's corset. I love it. Here I thought the "manssiere" (or the "bro") was just a joke on Seinfeld*. 

It's good to know that our society now offers men some of the same equipment we women get to experience on a regular basis. 

*Click the link to see a clip from the Seinfeld episode: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfONNfAjyrc

A Camping I Will Go...

In three days, I am going camping in Yosemite National Park. Excited? Oh, you bet'cha.

Bob and I and three other couples, friends of ours from LA, will be tackling the great outdoors in a grand adventure for the history books. We will be spending Friday and Saturday on the lighter, easier trails, then we'll cap off the weekend on Sunday with a 16-mile hike all the way to Half Dome.

We have the tent. We bought it this past weekend, a brand spankin' new Columbia tent. We set it up last night in our apartment and quickly realized that sleeping in it should feel just like home, since it's the size of our entire living space. We have the sleeping bags - I have my first new sleeping bag ever. We have the marshmallows - ginormous marshmallows at that. We've both been working out to up our endurance for the hike. We are ready, and SO excited.

All that said, this trip holds some significance for me in another way. This is my chance to reclaim my identity as an "outdoor girl". I've been too Urban/Suburban for too long, and it shows. I have no idea how to commune with nature in the camping sense.

It's not like I've never been camping before. When I was little, my family used to go every year, up until about the age of 9 when my sister put her foot down and said she was NOT going to spend the night in the great outdoors when there were these lovely inventions called hotels, with bug control, indoor plumbing and cable. After that, family vacations switched from roughing it to restauranting it. We were typically on vacation for the beach and the food.

Still, those early years had established within myself the belief that I was an outdoor girl.  I was a camper, a tough chick, able to take on any leaf, dirt or element nature had to offer. I wasn't timid in the outdoors, worried about my nail polish. No, I was one of those girls who could match skill for skill with any boy scout.

I carried this belief all the way through college, until a couple of friends of mine and I went camping in the beautiful Red River Gorge in Kentucky. Just as I am now, I was so excited to go camping then. And I remember talking about how I wasn't one of those "girly girls", how much I loved getting into the earth, etc, etc.

Well, guess what? Years away from roughing it had made me soft.

Once we established our camp site, we all went off to gather firewood. My dear friends Hannah and Ruth grabbed up logs and timbers like they were stuffed animals, hugging them close and toting them off with amazing strength. I came upon a log, gingerly picked it up with two fingers so as not to get dirty or buggy, and walked it back. Half-way to the fire pit, I realized what I was doing, and was instantly shocked. This was what a girly-girl did. I was NOT a girly-girl. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to wrap my whole hand around that nasty, dirty log.

"Starter stuff", I thought to myself, "I'll get leaves and bark to start the fire. The other girls are getting so many logs anyway. We need starter stuff." And, between you and I, it was much less messy. Away I went. I found a tree near our campsite that was just shedding bark. Easy. One giant piece in particular was hanging off the tree. I grabbed it, pulled it back, took one look, jumped back and gasped, too surprised for a scream. There, attached to the tree, hiding behind the bark, was this small, black ball of fur. It was breathing.

I just stared at it for a full minute, repulsed, before I slowly approached it to see what I was. It turned out to be a bat, hanging out, waiting for dark. It gave me the willies. I jumped back as soon as I had identified it and ran back to the camp site, afraid it would fly off the tree and into my hair. By then, there was enough stuff to start a fire, and the standard camping commenced.

We didn't get to finish our camping adventure. We woke up at 3:00 AM drenched. The tent was missing its rain flap, and we had assumed it wouldn't rain. Well, it did, and so in the wee hours of the morning we packed up all of our stuff, walked back to the car and drove home. I was cold, wet and muddy. When I got back to my dorm, I took the longest, hottest shower you can imagine, lathered myself up with sweet-smelling soaps and lotions, curled up in my cozy bed and slept like a rock.

That camping trip was the first time I realized that I was a girly-girl. All of these pre-conceived notions I had about my "rough and tough" status were broken, hour by hour. I was NOT a natural outdoorsy person. I was comfortable indoors, away from bugs and black, breathing things on trees. I liked long, hot showers, and as I learned, didn't like dirt as much as I thought I did. What had happened to me? I had gone soft.

But come to think of it, camping is much different when you're a kid. Who sets up the tent? Daddy. Who brings the food? Mom. My only concern was whether I was going to have a mini box of corn pops or a mini box of frosted flakes for breakfast, a luxury reserved only for camping. We were always on official camping sites, which meant there was a bathroom/shower area nearby. It was northern Michigan, so the only wild animal I had to worry about was the occasional skunk meandering through our camp site after dark, and the only bugs I had to worry about were daddy-long-leg spiders. And my father was always there to swat them away if need be.

I WANT to be a camping girl, though. I WANT that identity back. I have these grand visions of me scaling walls on the sides of mountains, kayaking down rivers and building my own fire as I warm myself after a strenuous day of hiking.  I want to be a rock climber, a hiker, a trail runner, spending my vacations in a tent.

Yosemite is giving me that opportunity. This is it, my chance to both redeem myself from the last embarrassing experience and establish myself once again in the outdoors. This is my chance to be who I want to be, dirt under the finger nails and all.
We'll have to use bear boxes to protect against Black Bear's wandering into the site. We'll be responsible for our own food, clothing, water and shelter. It won't be completely rough - we will be on an established campsite with bathrooms, and bless my friend Brittany for bringing her stovetop espresso maker - I can't give up all of life's luxuries all at once. Baby Steps.

But all in all, Yosemite will be more for me than just a good time with friends. I am prepared to come back a changed woman, one less interested in hotels, one planning vacations around places I can pitch my tent. I am ready and willing. Mother Nature, make me a real woman of the land.

Now if I could only decide whether or not I should bring my make-up with me...

RISOTTO, or "How To Do Your Taste Buds a Favor"

Friends, tonight I made the most delicious risotto I've ever tasted.

I can't take all the credit. Everything I know about risotto I learned from the cooking master herself, Lynne Rossetto Kasper. Look at that, she practically has "risotto" in her name. She is the very entertaining and passionate radio show host of NPR's The Splendid Table.  She lays out, step by step, how to make the perfect risotto in her book "The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper". 


In a risotto mood, I armed myself with her book and basic recipe and took a look at what I had in stock. Except for the arborio rice and a few of the basic ingredients, I was out of anything suggested in her cookbook. I hopped on epicurious.com to see what I could find. Several mushroom risotto recipes came up. I had portobello mushrooms in the fridge. Unfortunately, all the recipes I found online were for wild mushrooms, and I then realized that I was missing the most basic ingredient that gives risotto its zing. White Wine.

I had red wine, but not white, and every risotto recipe I came across called for the lighter grape juice.

Well, phooey on that. Why couldn't I make risotto with red wine? Was there some secret contract I didn't know about between arborio rice and white wine? And besides, meaty portobello mushrooms and bold red wine compliment each other like red and green at Christmas. Who cares if I didn't have wild mushrooms? Portobello mushrooms can handle themselves in a recipe! Why stick to the conventional methods when there's a whole world of tastes and flavors yet to be discovered? I WILL NOT BE CONVENTIONAL! I WILL STEP OUT BOLDLY INTO THE KITCHEN WIELDING MY SPOON AND MY CREATIVITY!

Bold as I might be, however, I decided to make half of the recipe, just in case it didn't turn out. Baby steps. Prudence.

Too bad for that. This risotto rocked my world. Here's the recipe:

INGREDIENTS
1 onion, chopped
1 large garlic clove, chopped
1 cup of arborio rice (risotto rice)
1/2 cup red wine (cheap and fruity works best with this recipe)
3 tbsp + 2 tbsp butter
3 1/2 to 4 cups of chicken broth
10 oz of baby bella mushrooms, roughly chopped
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup parmesan cheese, shredded
1/4-1/2 cup mozz cheese, shredded

DIRECTIONS (adapted from The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper)
1. In a heavy 4-qt saucepan, heat 3 tbsp butter over medium heat. Add the chopped onions and mushrooms,  and saute until the onions and mushrooms are soft, about 5-7 minutes. NOTE: the mushrooms absorb the butter rapidly. If bottom starts to brown and the mushrooms seem dry 4 minutes in, add the other 2 tbsp of butter. This will enough butter to finish the saute. The onions should look soft and the mushrooms should look melty, but still be slightly firm.

2. When the mushrooms and onions are ready, add the garlic and the rice. Saute for 3 minutes, stirring often. Add salt and pepper to taste. Don't worry if a little bit of browning occurs on the bottom of the pan. This is where the magic happens.

3. Raise the heat to medium high. Stir in the wine and cook until it is absorbed. The acidity of the wine will add that browning to the mix and add a richness. Begin adding the broth 1 cup at a time until the liquid is absorbed by the rice. The liquid must be absorbed before adding the next cup. Never cover the pot. Once you start adding the broth, the cooking time will be about 15 minutes. After cooking in about 2 1/2 cups, start adding the broth in 1/2 cup portions. Begin tasting the risotto. When it's ready, the risotto should be close to tender, with a little more firmness to the bite than you'd like, and it should be nearly soupy (it will finish cooking and absorb a little more broth in the next step). NEVER cook the rice to a mush.

4. Immediately remove the pot from the heat and let it stand for three minutes. Fold in the two cheeses, taste for seasonings, and serve.

Enjoy! It's just so yummy.

The Couponing Queen-in-training

Hand me my scepter, please, I saved $15 today in coupons.

Ok, so I'm not a queen yet, but today I embarked on my first coupon grocery store adventure. I am couponing now. I am going to be a coupon Queen. Why?

Because Sacramento has the audacity to charge an average of 7% more on groceries that Los Angeles or Malibu, CA. Appalling, I know. I don't think it makes any sense - it's Sacramento, not some distant tropical island that needs everything shipped in. I'm not lounging in the coconuts here, I'm just trying to buy my cheerios at a reasonable price. Am I asking too much? Apparently so.

Anyway, a 7% increase translates into $15-$20 more in groceries for Bob and I. I just don't find that acceptable, but how on earth do I fight something like that?

Answering my call for help, my dear and lovely friend Hannah Jones passed on a brilliant website to me: www.faithfulprovisions.com. "Coupons can save you a lot of money", she promised,"and this woman teaches you how to combine coupons. You can even get things for free sometimes!"

Now, I don't have the best track record for coupons, although this is somewhat my fault. I've tried couponing in the past. I learned that there were only so many coupons on different sites, and I had to print them out myself. It's a pain. Not only that, most of them weren't the brands I like. Which brings me to the biggest problem I've had with coupons: most of them don't apply to me.

I am, without shame, a granola-eating, whole-wheat toting, preservative-free, all-natural, organic-focused, quasi-vegetarian who believes in purchasing only animal products that are hormone-free, cage-free, humanly-raised, deeply-loved and fed lots of yummy, nutritious stuff. Some of you may have a problem with that. Some of you may think it's my west-coast showing. It is what it is, get over it. That's what I buy. It can make shopping trips a little pricer, but in the war between my wallet and my values, my values win out 85% of the time.

This makes it difficult to coupon, however. I'll tell you what you can buy a lot of with coupons - crap. A lot of things containing high-fructose corn syrup, preservatives, and added sugars. I don't care if I can get lucky charms for $.59 a box. I won't eat it. I will eat a sweet potato for breakfast, but you don't see a lot of coupons for sweet potatoes. You don't see coupons for produce in general, which makes up 75% of my diet. And anything else I buy is usually too specialized (i.e. vegan mayo) to have a coupon attached to it. Thank goodness Kashi is on the public's radar.

So what's a girl to do? Back to Faithful Provisions. I took Hannah's advice and took a skeptical peek at the site. There was a headline saying something to the effect of "Get Herbal Essance shampoo for $.49 ea!" Not possible, I thought. Guess what? It is. And here's how it works (this is all taken directly from the faithful provisions website):

Couponing 101

Types of Coupons: Manufacturer and Store

There are two types of coupons, manufacturer and store. They can be combined and used on one item for HUGE savings! See the example below…

Note: The best place I see this work is at Target and Walgreens, because these stores tend to have lots of store coupons that matchup with manufacturer coupons.

Manufacturer Coupons

·      In Sunday paper as inserts from SmartSource, RedPlum and Proctor & Gamble

·      Get subscription – more affordable and convenient

·      1-2 inserts per week; usually none at the holidays

·      Print online manufacturer coupons from sites like Coupons.com, Smartsource and RedPlum

·      Accepted at most stores; excluding Costco/Sams or Dollar Stores – ask your store.

·      Double/Triple – most stores double and some triple coupons up to a certain value i.e.) Publix and Kroger double $.50 and under, Harris Teeter doubles all coupons up to $.99 everyday, periodically they triple coupons.

Store Coupons

·      Offered in-store booklets, flyers, mailings and online: Great examples of store coupons are Walgreens store ad coupons, Publix flyer store coupons, and Target online printable coupons.

·      Specifically offered by store for either store brand products or brand name

"Stacking" Example

Publix might print a coupon in its weekly sale ad for $2 off any Ocean Spray product. You can combine a store coupon with a manufacturer’s coupon and really save. So, if you have a manufacturer’s coupon from the paper for $1 off any Ocean Spray product, now you can save $3 off of one bottle. This makes products end up being free. This is used best when the item is on sale.

Cool, huh? This was my way to fight back.

After reading up on how to save, away I went on a coupon scavenger hunt. I got the sunday paper and clipped coupons. I registered at all the manufacturer sites. I registered with all the stores in my area. Yes, I even printed and clipped my own coupons. I scoured the weekly ads looking for savings, and I planned menus for the week based on what was on sale.

I did all the prep work, and this morning I was able to test my coupon-prowess.

At 10:14 AM Saturday Morning,  Bob and I stepped into Nugget Market, coupons in hand. Why so early? Because Nugget was having a HUGE sale on Progresso soup, and I wanted to get there before everyone else. I am that committed.

We started in produce. A bag of russet potatoes for 87 cents. Spinach for 97 cents. Bob went for the Organic Apples, weighed 7 of them. Way too much. We bagged 5. So far, so good.

We moved onto to meats, then the cheeses, saving this way and that, then finally, we approached the progresso soup. Oh, I was so excited for that soup. This is why we were here at 10 AM on a Saturday, to buy Progresso soup at 99 cents a can. Progresso soup is reasonable anywhere else in the country, but in Sacramento it's usually about $3.50 o $4 a can.

I had prepared for this moment. In my head, I saw us buying can after can of progresso, filling a swimming pool with all our favorite progresso soups, swimming in savings. There was a Mayor involved, and he was saying something like "Erin, we give you the key to this city for saving more on soup than anyone else in the state of California", etc, etc.

But you know what? The 99 cents only applied to certain soups. And, if I may add, it applied to all the blech soups. Really, who wants to buy french onion soup in a can? I didn't. Bob didn't. And there was a moment there in the aisle where a dream was crushed by a can of progresso soup. Had I noticed in the ad that this applied to only certain soups, I wouldn't have built up such an anticipation, but I did, and now I had to deal with it. Bless Bob for his encouragement. He assured me that it was just a can of soup, and it would be ok. With my courage reinstated, the shopping trip went on. We each grabbed the most appealing of the 99 cent soups and moved down the aisle.

We ended our trip at the store $48 less than our previous trip there, but we weren't done shopping. We needed to go to Safeway for our produce, and Target for a few other things. And this is the only chink in the great coupon mission. The extra-mile effort is that many of these savings are in different grocery stores. Bob and I went to three stores today to grab all of our savings. To be fair, we were shopping other places for other things, and we were going to those stores anyway, but this is something that will need to be addressed next time.

In the end, when all was said and done, I saved $15 in coupons. Not bad. I have grand visions of $50 savings or more per trip, and maybe one day I'll make it. After all, this was my first coupon adventure.

But rest assured, friends. I will some day reign as the Coupon Queen. For now you'll find me here, in the little apartment on Q street, clipping coupons and tracking weekly ads.

Busy Hands are Happy Hands

I was enlightened today.

My dear mother called me this afternoon to see how the Sacramento house-wife was doing, knowing it might not be much. To prove her point, I was eating popcorn and watching an episode of "Kitchen Nightmares" at the time, with great intentions to take a shower eventually.

Perhaps you would like to hear other things I've done to fill my days besides job-searching:
    - I watched reruns of the biggest loser while picking the not-quite-cooked beans out of a bean and corn salad.
    - I walked a couple loops around my 567 sq ft. apartment. Given the size, it didn't take me long.
    - I've looked all over the web for stuff. Nothing in particular.
    - I've cleaned the apartment several times. It doesn't seem to last long.
    - I've watched any number of random videos and hulu programs.
    - I've taken to sleeping in.
    - I've worked out with P90X. Having Tony Horton and his workout team pushing me is the closest thing I get to human contact during the week.

Riveting, I know. All of that to say, my mother pointed something about that I knew about myself but had forgotten in the mind-numbing day-to-day nothingness. I AM WIRED TO BE BUSY.

Perhaps you yourself knew this. I'd forgotten, but it's true. The more on my plate, the more excited I get about life. I light up when I'm crammed doing things I love. I need human interaction. I need to be working and making money. I have to have some kind of meaningful work in my life, something to look forward to and interact with day to day. Without it, I become a recluse.

Some people can take free time and lounge in it like a cat in sunshine. I get antsy, depressed, agitated and finally withdrawn. If I have no reason to get up in the morning, I won't really.

The problem is I have nothing to do here in Sacramento. I'm job searching, but there's not much out there. I need to feel like I have something to look forward to, but in reality I don't. The hope is that Bob and I get out of here soon. What should I do in the meantime?

In the words of the infamous tootsie pop narrator: "The World may never know."

The Perpetual Beginner

I have been a beginner runner for over 10 years now. It seems like a contradiction, but it's true. 

I started running in 8th grade, the result of a spontaneous response to a school announcement calling all those interested in Cross Country to meet in room 21A. I was sitting with a friend of mine in the library, wasting time before homeroom. The loudspeaker crackled out the invitation. I stared at it, then immediately gathered my stuff to go. My friend looked at me and said, "you have got to be kidding me". To this day, I don't know what made me do it. The only thing I remember thinking was, "hey, I could do that!"

And thus I donned, for the very first time, the title of BEGINNER RUNNER. I had never run for the sake of running before. My sister, Emily, did. She was track pro, very athletic. I was a gangly, goofy creative type who wasn't quite done playing with Barbies. I didn't know I should be pulling my long hair back into a ponytail when running - I just ran with it flopping about. I didn't know you should wear a sports bra. I just ran in what I had on during school. 

Oh, and I quickly learned how agonizingly painful it can be. Everyday at practice, I would think to myself, "I'm never doing this again. What was I thinking. I'm never, EVER doing this again." But I did. When I raced, I gave it everything I had. At the end of my first race, I sprinted to the finish line, gasping and gulping for air, my lungs burning, my legs all rubbery, and collapsed on the ground. 

After that cross-country season was over, I really didn't do it again - cross country, anyway. Cross-country was a fall sport, and I was always in the fall play.  I moved on to track, mostly because my sister did it. I was horrible. Really, not exaggerating, horrible. And from there on out, I swore off running for awhile.

My freshman year of college, I pulled on my running shoes for the first time in years. For the second time in my life, I donned the title of BEGINNER RUNNER. I pounded the pavement once again, this time with my hair pulled back and the appropriate sports wear on. Oh, those first few weeks hurt. How many times did I want to stop? But I had weight to lose, I had a runner's high to gain, and I reveled in the solidarity. Running became my escape. It became my daily challenge and I quickly climbed to an average of 5-6 miles a day. Running for me had changed, I had changed, but I still had to start at mile one, breaking through those first five awful weeks before my body warmed up and become more conditioned. 

Time passed, and I transitioned from MSU to Asbury. My running stopped. Once settled in Asbury, I strapped on those shoes again - BEGINNER RUNNER again. Mile one again, and all that goes with it. The soreness, the out-of-shape feeling, the pain, the gasping. Eventually, I got better. My endurance increased along with my mileage; I truly loved running the Kentucky hills. In fact, I was so comfortable that one day I ran well over 7 miles on a lark - and had to stop running out of injury. 

And so the pattern continued. I would run for awhile, I would build up my mileage, my strength and endurance, start to aim for a race or a mile marker, and something would stop me. I would get sick, I would get busy, I would get injured (the worst offender), and have to wait and wait and wait some more to be able to strap up my shoes and go running. And I would start again, as soon as I could, but I would start back at mile one, at BEGINNER RUNNER. 

It's frustrating to have to start over. It means having to struggle and hurt and hang off the bottom rung AGAIN. It means exhaustion, doubts, pain and insecurity, and a reminder of it all with every step you take on a run, knowing you were once beyond this. 

However, as I've thought about it, It's not unlike life. Transitions happen, grooves get thrown off. Here I am, beginning life again in Sacramento. A new chapter, I've been calling it, but it feels like starting back at mile one. I don't have a job, I have to find one. I don't have any friends, I have to make them. I don't have much money, I don't have a church and I don't have a clue how to find my way around the city. I have great dreams and goals, but I'm nowhere close to them here. Mile one. It's painful. I'm lonely. I have a lot of doubts about my ability to gain a job and friends. I'm insecure about how I fit here. I'm worried I'll never attain my goals. I'm exhausted with trying to find anything I need in this city. Nothing is easy. I've wanted to leave so many times. 

There are two pictures of me at my very first cross-country race. In one picture, I'm beckoning the photographer, clearly excited. In the other, I'm at the start of the race in a runner's pose, beaming. I was a BEGINNER RUNNER in those two pictures. I was about to run 3.5 miles for the first time in my life. I didn't know what to expect, and I certainly didn't know that I was going to end the race gasping for breath and collapsing. But NOTE: I wasn't sulking in the background. I wasn't clinging to the other runners around me, or the photographer for that matter (my mother). The picture wasn't taken from the car as I climbed in, refusing to run the race. Nope. I was completely psyched. You couldn't have dampened that smile if you tried.  

I've put those pictures on my fridge as a reminder to run this race of Sacramento with the same excitement. I'm at mile one, but that doesn't mean I have to spend all day in my apartment worried about the future and depressed at the end of the day. I am choosing to run this race with the same enthusiasm as I ran my first actual race. 

Today I am a BEGINNER RUNNER once again, in many ways. Thanks to another injury several months ago, I have only  recently laced up my running shoes again with a hope and a prayer that neither my knee nor my hip will give me trouble. I ran 20 minutes today, and felt every minute if it. 

I am also a BEGINNER RUNNER in life here in Sacramento. Today I made strides towards accepting life as it is now. I left the apartment, bought some interview pants and polished up my resume. I didn't consume the chocolate chip cookies in my pantry out of loneliness, I ran instead. And I will keep running until I reach the end, having given it my all, gasping for breath, and having built up my endurance to run the next race that comes.