birthday tradition — twenty-six laps around the Sun

Keeping the tradition alive... including the late part— one of these years I'll make it on time!! Below are twenty-six moments from my most recent lap around the sun in celebration of my 26th birthday.

one.

Solo run over Granite Peak from east to west. Intimidating to say the least, but quite a rewarding and challenging endeavor. Lots of wildlife, vert, and miles of smiles. Crazy what the body is capable of... 

two.

Lydia came to visit! and we went to Goose Lake. Double thumbs up. Love this lady! :)

three.

Kersey Lake row boat party with Max, Mary, Sam, & Beau. Shenanigans, camp vibes, and foggy mornings... mmmmmm.

four.

No caption necessary.

five.

Climbed Pilot Peak with Austin in 2015. Pretty wild experience figuring out the route. Lots of unknowns. Lots of butterflies. Returned with Hilary in 2016 to repeat the route. Not quite as exciting the second time around. But equally fun, and always good to get a little lady time in the mountains.

six.

Quiet time by the river, and a re-discovered love of fly fishing.

seven.

Churchill. Polar bears. Good friends. Hard work. Time well spent.

eight.

But returning to Cooke City once again filled my heart and soul with warmth. Partially because of the place, and partially because of the guy in that photo... ;) Home sweet home.

nine.

The Paris Climate Talks were a larger highlight. So wonderful to see nations coming together to recognize the impacts of climate change and collaborate on solutions.

ten.

Started teaching and guiding a bit more again after a five year hiatus. Felt good to share mountain experiences and learn from students both with the GNFAC and Yellowstone Ski Tours.

eleven.

One of the deepest powder days I've ever had in the backcountry. Pure bliss.

twelve.

Mixing work and pleasure. Wonderful to get a few good days out with Leslie & Ben. Good people. Common wavelength. 

thirteen.

A challenging but rewarding ski trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Followed by a week hanging with my Grandparents & Paige. Good for the soul. 

fourteen.

Following the Good Doctor around in the Whitebark...

fifteen.

Powder laps with Mother Hen. 

sixteen.

Sharing the stoke for women in the adventure realm and showing our film Shifting Ice & Changing Tides --> watch keynote here

seventeen.

Downing Mountain Lodge Trip. Wonderful people. Good snow. Good times. 

eighteen.

New-routing and general ski-venturing with Beau my beau. 

nineteen.

This photo.

twenty.

Sci-fi ski adventure in Yellowstone with Noah & Beau

twenty-one.

Sierra Club + Protect Our Winters Trip to Cooke City

twenty-two.

 Family time. Lucky girl.

twenty-three.

Norway

twenty-four.

Spring Ski Mountaineering in the backyard

twenty-five.

 PNW Trip

twenty-six.

Slow early summer re-filling the spirit sponge and doing some personal development and well being work. Much needed re-energizing time. Quote of the summer, “Curiosity is our friend that teaches us how to become ourselves. Its a very gentle friend, a very forgiving friend, a very constant one. Passion is not so constant, not so gentle, not so forgiving, and sometimes not so available. When we live in a world that has come to fetishize passion above all, there’s a great deal of pressure around that.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

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Much love. Namaste. Til next time...

head in the clouds

the Art of being Alone

Opinion: being alone is one of the hardest, but most rewarding things we can do.

Our culture fosters a co-dependance on others. A need to socialize, over-communicate, and constantly be in touch. The thing about being alone is that you have no where to hide, no one to hide behind, or facade to creep under. You just have yourself, your thoughts, and whatever it is that you are doing with your time.

I find it healthy to spend large amounts of time alone. It gives me the opportunity to really explore my own mental and emotional inner landscapes.

I vividly remember being devastated after a break up with a boyfriend about 5 years ago. I wanted to find someone else to date because I was so lonely. I was afraid of being just with myself— I had forgotten who I was without that other person. I realized at that time that what I needed most was exactly what I was afraid of. I needed to be alone. I needed to find myself again. I needed to learn to love myself again. Because the truth was, if I couldn't love myself, take care of myself, and be good to myself by myself, then I couldn't be a good partner. It was then I realized the importance of maintaining my own identity no matter what the circumstance. I realized to have a truly healthy relationship I had to first take care of and love myself. I had to be comfortable and confident in my own skin— always.

The following months of solo time— gardening, reading, working, budgeting, reading more— really allowed me to set a foundation for who I was and who I would always be. I worked on my personal mission statement. I built up the unchange-able foundation within me.

Fast forward to roughly 5 years later— those foundations that I built still guide me daily.

After moving to Cooke City, I now spend even more time alone. When I lived in Bozeman I felt that I had to almost seek out alone time. I was constantly surrounded by people, be it roommates, co-workers, or friends. But here, when Beau is gone, if I don't make a big effort, I spend the majority of my days solo. It's allowed me to delve even deeper into my inner landscapes and begin working on my foundation of perception— the ways in which I intake information and subsequently see the world around me. I've been reading a book by Delores LaChapelle exploring the roots of our language and culture and how those things have had a huge subconscious effect on our development in the western world (both culturally and individually). It causes one to question, for example, "I see this landscape— what do I immediately think, assume, conclude about it?" I could go on, but I'm not yet capable of putting my thoughts on the research into words even close to as eloquent as the late, great Delores.

I suppose the moral I'm trying to write about and impart is the value of being alone, and embracing the discomfort and fear of that naked emotional space. Like going camping in the woods by yourself, the first night you are terrified, but after a few days you sleep better than you've ever slept before. You begin to realize and understand that the world is not out to get you, but in fact, you are just a small part of a complex, ever-changing landscape. The howling coyote begins to sound like a friend, and the wind becomes a companion. All the senses that we learn to 'shut off' in the hustle and bustle of the city begin to re-awaken. When we close our mouths, we learn to hear, see, and feel with our other senses— consequently allowing us to feel more alive. And although this can feel strange and foreign at first, it is actually exactly how we are meant to be— culturally we've just forgotten, and become lost in space and time.

Rocky Mountain High