Two unpleasant side effects from attending survival school: my stomach can’t handle rich foods anymore (goodbye, dairy!) and sadly, between cooking over open flame for several nights and the dryness of Utah, all of my fingertips are peeling off. Perhaps this is the universe nudging me towards a life of fingerprint-less crimes, but since that’s a bit too risky for my taste, I think I’ll just wait for them to regenerate (and in the mean time, take a break from campfires).
|First dinner on the trail (and fourth night). The fire|
was courtesy of our instructors, Jeremy and Matt, who
told us in no uncertain terms that the first fire was free,
but from then on if we wanted dinner we'd have to make
Ascending to 10,000 feet through cow country.
Actually, everywhere was cow country.
And then I remembered that it was two years, to the day, that I had finished the Appalachian Trail. Two years since I stood on top of Mt. Katahdin at the conclusion of my thru-hike, bawling my eyes out and feeling pitiful. Two years, since I wondered what a future without white blazes meant for me. Two years since I worried about readjusting to society, to paying bills, and to being responsible. In retrospect it’s really easy to see how unfounded these worries were; how while adjusting to life in my beloved Somerville wasn't seamless (confidential to Surjeet and Ivy: sorry about the whining!) I wasn't giving myself enough credit. I’m good at surviving.
Full moon in canyon country.
|Look what I found, 2,000 miles off trail!|