My First Backpacking Trip

I have big dreams of being a backpacker.  BIG DREAMS!

I dream of taking a sabbatical from work and hiking the Appalachian Trail.  I have spent hours researching exotic places like Thailand and Peru.  I envision Pack and I climbing up the Continental Divide and looking over the country in awe.  I dream of becoming one with nature in the most intimate way.  I picture myself loving life in “survival mode.”  

In theory, I would be an excellent backpacker.  I have a pack.  I have a sleeping bag and tent.  I have strong thighs.  And, I want it.  I want it bad.

Then....I went on my first backpacking trip.

Not only was I exhausted by the unbelievable amount of work it takes to carry 35 extra pounds on your back, but the maps lied about the mileage - and not in my favor.  Are maps allowed to lie?  Dang you National Park Service!!!  

Oh, and when you learn that water isn’t available, they aren’t lying about that. 

I’m the girl that drank (filtered) water from a mud puddle.

By the end of day one, I was exhausted and my fun limit had been hit.  I was excited to crawl into my tent, but sleeping under the stars isn’t as relaxing as it seems.  Nature had re-confirmed how much silence is important to my sleep.  Nature is really loud.  No, I’m not talking about the unfriendly rattlesnake I met along the trail.  I’m talking about mate-less birds who won’t shut up.  (Are you mate-less for a reason, bird???)  I’m talking about wind.  I’m talking about beautiful streams.  I’m talking about the imaginary animals you make yourself believe are roaming around outside your tent.  

Yes, I love nature, but I also love sleep.  And I can’t sleep when it’s loud.  

I also can’t sleep when it’s light outside.  After you have spent a whole day hiking with your belongings on your back, you go to bed around 7pm.  The sun, however, did not get the memo that I was exhausted and needed a restful night of sleep.  

By day 3, I mentally and physically beat by the 30+ miles of trail.  Then, the universe wanted to test me further.  Mother Nature opened up the sky, and rained on me.  Then it rained more.  It rained so much that my rain gear could not longer repel the thick drops.  My expensive, “rain repellant” clothing completely soiled my clothes and underwear.

And do you know what happens when you are soaking wet and continue to hike?  Yep, you get rashes all over your body from your clothes and your pack rubbing against you in the most private places.  It’s not pretty.  Two weeks later....it still isn’t pretty.  And now, I permanently smell like topical cream.

Looking back, I am thrilled that I survived the backpacking trip.  I feel like I accomplished something.  I also learned that backpacking might not be for me.  And that’s ok.  Just like I learned that winter mountaineering might not be for me when I climbed Mount Washington, there is a possibility that backpacking isn’t for me either.  

Maybe I’m more of a car camper and a day hiker.  

And, maybe I’m ok with this discovery!

Making my Life Significant

As someone who has taken the “road less traveled” in my short life, I’m, again, re-thinking everything: my career, my location, my purpose.  Remember how I just posted about my Quarter Life Crisis?  Well, I still have no answers, but I refuse to stop conversing about this important topic.

I graduated from college at age 28 and immediately found a job at a prestigious-sounding government agency.  I make great money if you live in the Midwest, and I make just enough to get by in Washington DC.  My job is super boring, but I work with wonderful people and when I leave at 4:30pm, I leave it all at work.  I have a good life.

I shouldn’t be complaining. 

But I am.

I look around and think, “None of this matters.”  My job doesn’t matter.  Half of the work my department – or at least my little division within the larger department – handles doesn’t matter.  My boss’ overly stressed approach is unnecessary.  The Blackberry mentality is ridiculous.  Yard work doesn’t matter.  Fancy clothes don’t matter.  Traffic doesn’t matter.  Everything just seems so….insignificant.

Do you know what’s isn’t insignificant though??? 

EATING

PAYING YOUR BILLS

LIVING A DEBT-FREE LIFE

TRAVELING

SAVING FOR RETIREMENT

I feel like I’m settling for a job that pays the bills because that’s what I’m “supposed” to do.  

I feel like I’m settling in my life.  Then I get mad at myself for allowing this to happen.  I’m starting to think, “Geez...GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

I guess there is a larger question – how do you balance the bills and the boring part with something fun and fulfilling?  I guess I could find a job that both pays the bills and is fulfilling, but seriously…..where are those jobs posted??  And how much do they pay???

If I had it my way, I would be a travel blogger.  Or a park ranger.  Or a hiker.  Or life coach.  Or Kenyan mud-house builder.  Yes, I’m serious about all of these options.  I would also make 80K a year.  (Why won’t someone pay me to hike the Appalachian Trail???)  

I want so badly to do something amazing.  But I have a big secret that is preventing me from getting too far outside of my comfort zone.

This is the secret: I’m too scared.  I’m too scared to quit my job and backpack across Asia.  (Although, I’m not sure which gives me more anxiety.)  I'm too scared to go to culinary school or get a MFA because I feel like I should get a Master's degree in a subject that will further my career.  

The below quote is from Dear Sugar, which I have taped to my cubicle wall at work.  I think this is the way we should all begin living our lives.  Her words really put my life into perspective.  I will keep looking for something amazing.  I will keep my vulnerabilities surfaced and contemplate my fears.  But most of all, I will continue to weigh all of my options.  

What are you going to do???

"You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score. Anyone who expects you to do any of those things has no sense of history or economics or science or the arts.

You have to pay your own electric bill. You have to be kind. You have to give it all you got. You have to find people who love you truly and love them back with the same truth.

But that’s all."