The Journey So Far

I’ve been called a lot of things. Princess, a girlie-girl, a fashionista. But above all, I am a diva. I love everything there is to do about makeup, hair, and clothes. Diva. I cannot leave my house without a full face. Diva. I have literally sat on my bathroom floor and cried at the death of a curling iron. Diva. When my husband tells me to pack for a week, I pack for a month, never knowing what I’ll need. Diva. When we left for a backpacking trip through an isolated island in Lake Superior last summer, of course I packed my mascara, dry hair shampoo, and my lip gloss; why wouldn’t I? Diva.

Yes, that is me. Hiking in a dress. Hiking with earrings and a necklace. Through canyons, caverns, and mountains. Doesn’t everyone think that hiking with dresses and jewelry makes the hike easier, prettier, and a bit more fashionable?

My husband coyly gave me a backpacking pack early into our relationship. I batted my long lashes and looked at him, “Why on earth would I ever need that?” secretly thinking that there weren’t even compartments for my eye shadows, curling iron, and 5 different shades of gloss and matte lipsticks. Why designs these things anyway?

Over the past 15 years of a relationship with a man who ENVIES the Grizzly Man and has seriously thought about applying for Naked and Afraid, I have learned to adjust and so has he. He doesn’t slam doors and yell nearly as much when he sees me pack 5 pairs of shoes for a two-week trip. I have reluctantly gone along on camping trips, where there was no electricity (Umm… where do I plug in my hair straightener?), no flushable toilets, and, well, dirt. And the more we go, the more I have fallen in love with nature and the outdoors.

This is me, who once thought that people who VOLUNTARILY slept on the ground must be mad (and I’m a certified counselor, so I think I have the right to diagnosis this). And people who wanted to eat freeze dried food must not have food buds. And people who actually backpacked and CARRIED their things with them must have no friends and be socially inept (I teach middle schoolers, so I think I have been around enough social awkwardness to fully gauge this inability to socialize).

But then… something opened up inside of me and the question began circling in my mind. What if I could backpack AND still be a diva? What if I could have my backpack and my mascara too? What if I could still be beautiful and use a pee rag (look it up, people. A rag. You pee on. And DON’T WASH. That took me about a week to fully comprehend and a couple more weeks to finally accept when I saw a glitter pink bandana on Amazon. Thank you, Amazon, for literally having everything. I will gladly piss on a piece of fabric if it has glitter on it). Hmmm…. the wheels began turning and I was ready. Ready to do ALL of this.

So what am I exactly doing? A 481-mile hike across the state of Oregon. Why? Well, 15 years ago, I met the love of my life in that state and there is nothing better in the world than renewing our vows while pooping in the wilderness and drinking brown water. Right? Am I suddenly mad? Have I lost my taste buds? Have I become socially inept? Been hit in the head too many times? Probably. But I am so ready to do this. I am so ready to prove to my husband and the rest of the world that I am strong enough, tough enough, and beautiful enough to trek across the state carrying my own stuff while wearing dresses, jewelry, and makeup (and yes, most of that stuff includes glam galore, books, and games. Don’t judge me. He volunteered to carry the tent, so I have more room for all of my super important stuff).

To make things even more complicated, because I can’t ever do anything easy, I am also coming out of two pretty significant injuries in less than a year. It started with a broken ankle last October when I rappelled into a cave. It was only a stress fracture with a nice sprain, but I was surprised at the amount of pain and swelling that injury caused (Yes, that is really my foot, and not an elephant’s). Only 8 weeks after that, I dislocated my knee which led to two surgeries and months of crippling pain and depression. I temporarily lost sight of who I was, what I could do, and what I was capable of. It seemed at one point that EVERYONE I knew was actually rooting against me, including my husband. There were friends who I thought were my cheerleaders were actually pulling me down, lecturing me on how I was treating my body, instead of encouraging me to fight through the pain and sadness. Even my physical therapist told me “You are crazy to think that you can do ANY hike this year.”

On my birthday, I sat in my doctor’s office, literally choking on my tears at my little progression when he told me to stop being a wimp, to “man up,” and stop crying. While that only made me cry harder, I think that was what I needed to hear. I do have to DIVA it up and stop crying (mostly because it messes up my makeup), and just do this. I have decided to fight, with every being I have, and not let them discourage me. Yes, this trip is going to hurt. It’ll hurt anyone in GOOD health. So I am going to have a much more rough time because of my injuries. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to push myself, my ankle, and my knee and kick some serious PCT booty.

My husband thinks I’m crazy. My friends think I’m crazy. Heck, even I think I’m a bit crazy. But here we are. Two weeks before our departure and I’m trying to figure out how I am going to fit all of this stuff in, and not worrying about silly things like breaking in my super adorable purple hiking boots and frivolous things like carrying weight. Ha. Weight. What a silly thing to worry about. That’s like when airplanes say your suitcase can’t weigh more than 50 lbs. Don’t they KNOW who I am? I am THE PCT Diva, and don’t you forget it.