Shall we start this off by stating the obvious?
I am a non-fiction, first person biography nerd. First hand accounts of the lives of people who inspire me, well... inspire me. Often make me laugh. It feels like making new friends for introverts.
A few books passed through my hands this month, but one in particular sticks with me, and really, leaves me wanting more. It isn't more from the story I long for, rather more story. Because it really is the best book I've read thus far this year.
Carrot Quinn's Thru Hiking Will Break Your Heart is her own account of her experience of thru hiking the Pacific Coast Trail. The book kept popping up on my recommended book list on Amazon (outdoorsy, biographical books are my thing, remember?) and was a free PrimeUnlimited option. I was searching for a book to read following my completion of Pro Cycling on $10 a Day. I had pinged my social media community and came back wanting. So, fine, read the book that is an easy choice, and not something I would normally choose, subject matter-wise. I ride bikes and backpack, but for some reason, thru hiking has always felt bigger than me. Probably because of my crazy feet.
As I read, though, I found Carrot (is this her real name? her hiker trash name? I think the latter... I dig it.) to be a relatable person, witty and interesting. She's open, about her faults and doubts, about the things she wants. As she traverses the country from south to north, she grows as a person, and you can see it and feel it. Her book, created from her daily blog posts while on the trail, is a chronicle of her life on the trail, in all its beauty, riddled with challenges and increased self awareness and self actualization.
Her writing is exquisite in its conveyance of the striking scenery of the trail, physical and mental. Her writing is exquisite, period. Stylistically, I couldn't ask for more from an author.
Would I recommend this book to my friends? Absolutely. It is inspiring, and makes me want to do something big and crazy. Maybe on the bike though.
Any warnings? To my more conservative readers, language and subject matter warning is suggested. But if you read my blog, you probably aren't too bothered by either of those things.
Anything else you need to know? Yes... you can follow Carrot on Instagram (I do!!) and check out her website.
25 June, 2015
Bonnaroo: Bikes, Bands, Brews. Part Three, Suds and Margaritas.
I was telling my friend this morning that series posts with a theme are tough for me. They break from my normal stream-of-conciousness, and require me to do work and think. Wait... what are those things?
The Bonnaroo hat trick finishes off with a libation discussion. It goes like-a-so.
There's a place in Bonnaroo known as the Broo'ers Festival.
Do not venture there.
It is a black hole that shamelessly drains the Schwer bank account, the second weekend of June, annually. They're trying to bankrupt us in there.
Or maybe I should just drink less beer. But whatever.
What was good in the beer tent this year?
From what I remember (the alcohol fuzz is strong with this one...):
Elysian Brewing Company's Super Fuzz: A zippy, fruity maxim of a Blood Orange Pale Ale that was just as amazing as you imagine. The perfect refreshment for a warm day. My Pale Ale tendencies were well-pleased with this one. Elysian's IPA was also exceedingly yummy.
As locals who tromp in every day, we also have the luxury of what we call walking beers. In the past, it was a chance to clean out the beer fridge, but now our amazing friend brings us a huge selection of canned walking beers in trade for staying at our house for the weekend. It's a good deal :) My favorite this year was Tinman Brewing Company's Rosenweiss. It's a German kristallweizen, which is a filtered hefe. As a hefe-lover, this turn to a kristallweizen was easy, and tasty :) Honorable mention walking beers: Terapin Hi-5 IPA and Maggie's Farmhouse. Drink these beers. Be cool.
But wait, there's more to drink in.
My brother-in-law and his girlfriend stayed with us, plus we always share a campsite. They mixed up some margaritas from a special recipe, and left one bottle in our fridge, and another in the cooler at the campsite.
These magic margaritas were a recipe for drunkeness at Bonnaroo. If you can, follow suit.
But mostly, drink beer, ride bikes, and listen to good music, friends.
The Bonnaroo hat trick finishes off with a libation discussion. It goes like-a-so.
There's a place in Bonnaroo known as the Broo'ers Festival.
Do not venture there.
It is a black hole that shamelessly drains the Schwer bank account, the second weekend of June, annually. They're trying to bankrupt us in there.
Or maybe I should just drink less beer. But whatever.
What was good in the beer tent this year?
From what I remember (the alcohol fuzz is strong with this one...):
Elysian Brewing Company's Super Fuzz: A zippy, fruity maxim of a Blood Orange Pale Ale that was just as amazing as you imagine. The perfect refreshment for a warm day. My Pale Ale tendencies were well-pleased with this one. Elysian's IPA was also exceedingly yummy.
As locals who tromp in every day, we also have the luxury of what we call walking beers. In the past, it was a chance to clean out the beer fridge, but now our amazing friend brings us a huge selection of canned walking beers in trade for staying at our house for the weekend. It's a good deal :) My favorite this year was Tinman Brewing Company's Rosenweiss. It's a German kristallweizen, which is a filtered hefe. As a hefe-lover, this turn to a kristallweizen was easy, and tasty :) Honorable mention walking beers: Terapin Hi-5 IPA and Maggie's Farmhouse. Drink these beers. Be cool.
But wait, there's more to drink in.
My brother-in-law and his girlfriend stayed with us, plus we always share a campsite. They mixed up some margaritas from a special recipe, and left one bottle in our fridge, and another in the cooler at the campsite.
These magic margaritas were a recipe for drunkeness at Bonnaroo. If you can, follow suit.
But mostly, drink beer, ride bikes, and listen to good music, friends.
20 June, 2015
Bonnaroo: Bikes, Bands, and Brews: Part 2
I know, I know. What you really want to hear about it the amazing shows I watched, right? Brace yourself, as the vin diagrams of my life meet up in stellar fashion.
When the line-up came out in the early spring (or late winter. whatever. we won't mince words here...), I was ecstatic to see two names in particular on that list: Catfish and the Bottlemen and Gregory Alan Isakov.
Both came to me via my omnipresent love for all things bikes. Yes, everything, all of it... it all leads back to the glorious bike.
Unfortunately, when I glanced at the schedule a week out, I realized the Bonnaroo gods were frowning upon me: Catfish and Gregory were scheduled to play in almost the same time slot. What's a girl to do? More research the Monday before Bonnaroo elicited some fruit. Gregory Alan Isakov was slated to have a small crowd performance at the Solar Stage. The planets realigned. All was well with the world.
So we sauntered up to Catfish and the Bottlemen in time to get a good spot near the back of the tent, to the right of the sound stage. I wanted to stay until after I heard Cocoon, my favorite Catfish song. So we stayed through a large portion of their set, which was superb. They're really young kids, and referenced a Kings of Leon show from 2004, saying they watched it as kids (10 year olds?) and dreamed of playing at Bonnaroo someday. Kind of cool, watching them move up from the tiny, now defunct, Sonic Stage, to the world of the tents. They're doing something cool, energetic, and interesting with their sound, and I really hope they see even more success.
As soon as my favorite tune was over, we hightailed over to That Tent to catch the last of the Gregory Alan Isakov show. His songs are featured in Ride the Divide, a stunning documentary about the Continental Divide Race. I've been hooked ever since, by his jangly, echo-y, folksy acoustic sound. We walked up to his song, "This Empty Northern Hemisphere," one of his songs I was excited to hear live. After listening to a couple more songs, we walked back to our tent to eat a snack and drink some beer.
On Sunday morning, we enjoyed a second helping of Gregory Alan Isakov, this time up close and personal, while lounging in our hammock. In between his songs, he and his band answered various interview questions. He's a cool, personable, intriguing fellow, a farmer, and undoubtedly one of the best song writers around. We had the chance to greet him afterwards, as the instruments were put away. His small set, in such a perfect setting, made Bonnaroo perfect for me. Year made, with a good show, hammock, and good company.
When the line-up came out in the early spring (or late winter. whatever. we won't mince words here...), I was ecstatic to see two names in particular on that list: Catfish and the Bottlemen and Gregory Alan Isakov.
Both came to me via my omnipresent love for all things bikes. Yes, everything, all of it... it all leads back to the glorious bike.
Unfortunately, when I glanced at the schedule a week out, I realized the Bonnaroo gods were frowning upon me: Catfish and Gregory were scheduled to play in almost the same time slot. What's a girl to do? More research the Monday before Bonnaroo elicited some fruit. Gregory Alan Isakov was slated to have a small crowd performance at the Solar Stage. The planets realigned. All was well with the world.
 | |
| Catfish and the Bottlemen, of Road Bike Party 2 Fame. |
 |
| Gregory Alan Isakov, at the Solar Stage the following day |
As soon as my favorite tune was over, we hightailed over to That Tent to catch the last of the Gregory Alan Isakov show. His songs are featured in Ride the Divide, a stunning documentary about the Continental Divide Race. I've been hooked ever since, by his jangly, echo-y, folksy acoustic sound. We walked up to his song, "This Empty Northern Hemisphere," one of his songs I was excited to hear live. After listening to a couple more songs, we walked back to our tent to eat a snack and drink some beer.
On Sunday morning, we enjoyed a second helping of Gregory Alan Isakov, this time up close and personal, while lounging in our hammock. In between his songs, he and his band answered various interview questions. He's a cool, personable, intriguing fellow, a farmer, and undoubtedly one of the best song writers around. We had the chance to greet him afterwards, as the instruments were put away. His small set, in such a perfect setting, made Bonnaroo perfect for me. Year made, with a good show, hammock, and good company.
18 June, 2015
Bonnaroo: Bikes, Bands, Brews, Part 1
I'm always unsure about how Bonnaroo will turn out.
As I get older, I think it's overrated. It's hot, dusty or muddy, and my feet don't always like the long hours of plodding and standing about.
This year, I feel like Paul and I mastered Bonnaroo.
We both got our long rides out of the way on Thursday, leaving the rest of the long weekend open to shorter, more social rides. Paul did a century, while I did fifty miles, on very little food so I could be at a low weight for my final weigh in for a weight loss competition. Thankfully, Paul was on his way home from town with a giant sandwich and half gallon of chocolate milk for us to enjoy.
Other keys to our better-than-normal Bonnaroo experience:
Crap bikes to ride as far as we could, then lock to the fence. I'm fairly certain this is part of what saved my feet. I will never argue with a chance to trade steps for pedal strokes. Plus there was less... harassment.
Then there was the brilliant idea to portage in our Eno Doublenest every day. Our show-watching preferences were largely built around our ability to perch in the hammock and see the band play. It was exquisite to lounge around while the rest of the world was standing or sitting in the blazing sun. One of the greatest luxuries.
Also amazing was the locker our friends purchased and to which they gave us access. We were able to store all manner of things in there, from smuggled beers to frozen waters, and a change of clothes. Like Bonnaroo Base Camp 2 to our walk in camping Bonnaroo Base Camp 1.
Those things, as well as my newer Chacos with the cushier sole, made the weekend feel easy.
When Bonnaroo feels easy, in spite of feeling lousy following the water/cherry poisoning, getting in a good short ride is easier. EVERYTHING IS EASIER.
In my next post, learn about the amazing bands I saw :)
As I get older, I think it's overrated. It's hot, dusty or muddy, and my feet don't always like the long hours of plodding and standing about.
This year, I feel like Paul and I mastered Bonnaroo.
We both got our long rides out of the way on Thursday, leaving the rest of the long weekend open to shorter, more social rides. Paul did a century, while I did fifty miles, on very little food so I could be at a low weight for my final weigh in for a weight loss competition. Thankfully, Paul was on his way home from town with a giant sandwich and half gallon of chocolate milk for us to enjoy.
Other keys to our better-than-normal Bonnaroo experience:
Crap bikes to ride as far as we could, then lock to the fence. I'm fairly certain this is part of what saved my feet. I will never argue with a chance to trade steps for pedal strokes. Plus there was less... harassment.
 |
| This is me vegging at Dawes before I started tossing my cookies because of the sulfurous water and cherries that went bad in the locker. |
 |
| This is not our locker. This is the Bad Luck Locker. |
Those things, as well as my newer Chacos with the cushier sole, made the weekend feel easy.
When Bonnaroo feels easy, in spite of feeling lousy following the water/cherry poisoning, getting in a good short ride is easier. EVERYTHING IS EASIER.
In my next post, learn about the amazing bands I saw :)
05 June, 2015
We Are Finite.
I've wanted to comment about Dean Potter's death for a few days now, but didn't really have the words. This morning I read a piece by Aaron Teasdale, in which he celebrates life-filled days, as opposed to a day-filled life. Potter's life and exploits are worth celebrating. His life is worth examination. Our loss of this adventurer should encourage us to examine our own lives.
The other night I had a dream in which Paul and I went back in time so we could be together longer. The finiteness of humanity seems staggering sometimes. I told one of my best friends so this morning. I feel often that our infinite love and care is stamped out too quickly, like there's never enough time. I fear loss more intensely every day I grow older. I fear finding myself without the ones I love, without ever having shown them all the love I have for them. I read a status yesterday from the marketing director of Facebook, who recently lost her husband. She told of the hollowness, the aching longing she felt and continues to feel. She also told of her efforts to continue to live.
I try to ignore it some days, this fear of loss. On others I try to fight it, throwing punches, yelling obscenities. I try to shove it down when my adventurous child wants to go to the edge of the cliff to see to the bottom, all curls and curiosity. There's nothing more I want than to encourage that nature in him. It has served me well, and is one of my favorite things about my husband.
Everything will end one day. I know that.
It would be easy to sit back and live in a climate controlled cage. But it isn't easy. I see the hollowness in others that comes from loss. Not loss of a loved one, but the loss of self to fear, in a quest for comfort and safety. It's an emptiness I see people try to fill in all manner of ways that are equally as threatening and devastating as the consequences of a life of adventure, without the glorious pay-off of adrenaline and endorphins. Like Aaron, Dean, and any other number of people I idolize, I like to take the path less traveled. The one with the danger flags. It's fun to surmount fear and do something exciting and dangerous, to feel alive.
I realize it is important to let those around us burst through the barrier of finiteness to feel explosively alive. If we place a shroud of perpetual safety and protection over our life and the lives of those around us, it may as well be a death shroud, covering a life half-lived. Live and love, explosively, adventurously, my friends. You only get one chance on this spinning orb. Make it excellent.
The other night I had a dream in which Paul and I went back in time so we could be together longer. The finiteness of humanity seems staggering sometimes. I told one of my best friends so this morning. I feel often that our infinite love and care is stamped out too quickly, like there's never enough time. I fear loss more intensely every day I grow older. I fear finding myself without the ones I love, without ever having shown them all the love I have for them. I read a status yesterday from the marketing director of Facebook, who recently lost her husband. She told of the hollowness, the aching longing she felt and continues to feel. She also told of her efforts to continue to live.
I try to ignore it some days, this fear of loss. On others I try to fight it, throwing punches, yelling obscenities. I try to shove it down when my adventurous child wants to go to the edge of the cliff to see to the bottom, all curls and curiosity. There's nothing more I want than to encourage that nature in him. It has served me well, and is one of my favorite things about my husband.
Everything will end one day. I know that.
It would be easy to sit back and live in a climate controlled cage. But it isn't easy. I see the hollowness in others that comes from loss. Not loss of a loved one, but the loss of self to fear, in a quest for comfort and safety. It's an emptiness I see people try to fill in all manner of ways that are equally as threatening and devastating as the consequences of a life of adventure, without the glorious pay-off of adrenaline and endorphins. Like Aaron, Dean, and any other number of people I idolize, I like to take the path less traveled. The one with the danger flags. It's fun to surmount fear and do something exciting and dangerous, to feel alive.
I realize it is important to let those around us burst through the barrier of finiteness to feel explosively alive. If we place a shroud of perpetual safety and protection over our life and the lives of those around us, it may as well be a death shroud, covering a life half-lived. Live and love, explosively, adventurously, my friends. You only get one chance on this spinning orb. Make it excellent.
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