Raw and remote
Calm mind. Calm heart. Calm breath.
This is my mantra every time I find myself in cold water. It took a long time for me to understand my enemy isn't the water or the cold. It's the breath - a body's natural reaction. Not easy to control. I repeat the words over and over again. I try to visualize the shock. Let it rush over me, embrace it and let it fade.
We charged up to Whatcom Pass. A short pause to refill our water bottles and gorge ourselves on the wild blueberries. After we scrambled up to Tapto lakes. A winding trail over roots, through meadows, over a rocky bluff and then a drop down to the teardrop lakes. My legs - a mess - fresh jelly. I felt like the best option for me to complete the hike was to dip into the glacial lakes.
I asked Jacques to set a timer for 20 minutes and we made a pact to stay in for at least 15. Cold water therapy. Several thousand feet up, alone with friends, surrounded by peaks. Dinner was rehydrated freeze dried chicken dumplings - incredibly delicious (no sarcasm intended). Ten minutes of reading and then complete darkness. If nothing else, these hikes are worth it for the quality of the sleep.
Vacation the last few years has taken a distinct shape. Wilder. A little more raw around the edges. An overnight backpacking group has emerged.
The key to these hikes is rhythm. Distance, elevation, weather - they matter, but can be handled with rhythm. Walking for hours upon hours, day after day, takes a mental space where reality is experienced and accepted a little less immediately.
It always takes me a bit to calm the frantic mind. Crank down the stimulus knob. I'm looking for a thought, a single thought. One good brainwave I can ride. My everyday life I don't explore deep uninterrupted thinking often. To tango with an idea, then zoom out and examine it from 1000 feet. It's an intense feeling, one that is only amplified by the environment.
Rain forecasted and rain came in the form of a thunderstorm. We raced down from our high mountain lakes to get protection from the lightning. I've never heard any sound carry in a valley that large like that thunder. It would echo up and down for miles.
The next day, semi-soaked, we ate pancakes with foraged blueberries and honey. The most magical meal of the year to date.
Gaël is good. He can handle monkey bars now with ease. We sat, watched and discussed others climbing an outdoor rock wall. He's almost cracked the swimming thing. I'm hoping in a few weeks. Sometimes it'll laugh so hard at something he ends up rolling around on the ground.
I hope this letter finds you when it needs to. Would love a line dropped my way.
Calm mind. Calm heart. Calm breath.
Cowabunga dude,
DJ