Viewing entries in
Slovenia

I'm coming home

5 Comments

I'm coming home

In just under a week I'll be on a plane back to the U.S., ending one of the most incredible years of my life. Trying to sort out a year of memories and experiences is futile, but here are a few things I've already realized: 

The people were even better. I got to meet some of the most playful and generous people on this planet. In the midst of reading about all that is going on in Paris, Beirut, Nepal, and Syria, despite all of the horrific things that have happened, I am still convinced that this world is full of good people. People whose kindness and compassion blew me away. I was given the benefit of a doubt from Vietnamese who suffered in the war. I was invited into someone's home that was the size of my bedroom growing up. I was given couches, equipment, food, directions, hugs, and so much encouragement from strangers. People are incredible and I can only hope to pay it forward someday when I have a home. 

The adventures were way bigger. Last week I ran with (okay, away from) a bull with flaming horns in Spain. I will never forget what it felt like to trek with a 15 kilo pack to 5,416 meters, or to wake up on a mountain in the Austrian Alps the morning of my birthday. I got to climb the longest routes of my life in the Dolomites and Arco, care for 433 wild dogs in Thailand, swim in waterfalls in Laos, jump off a moving train in Prague, compete and actually place in a climbing competition in Kathmandu, trek in the Laotian jungle, the high Tatras, the Alps, and the Himalayas, and volunteer with the most inspiring organization I've seen in a long time in Nepal. 

And the hard times were worse than I imagined. I struggled with being developing country sick, injured, exhausted, more lonely than I've ever felt in my life, and injured again. I've had bed bugs, wiped out on my motorbike, almost drowned in a tunnel in Vietnam, fainted a few times, had a lung infection (maybe altitude sickness, actually?) at altitude, left my purse on a train, slept on the sidewalk, cried every time my tendinitis kept me from climbing, unknowingly hosted generations of lice in my hair for a month, and shit my pants in public...twice. 

Even though there are always going to be more places I want to explore, I couldn't be more ready to see my family and friends again. Truthfully, I can't wait to settle down and have things like a toothbrush cup, mugs, books, a dresser, a bike, a garden, and heaps of chipotle. America, you're beautiful. 

I don't know what's next or where's next yet and that scares me. So don't ask about that yet, just for now join me in saying, holy shit this happened. Thank you for believing that it would happen and for encouraging me along the way. Thank you, thank you, a million times, thank you.

5 Comments

Subscribe to my stories

* indicates required
trekking solo in Slovenia

3 Comments

trekking solo in Slovenia

Mountains are just honest.
— Ueli Steck

This is my first solo trek in the Julian Alps. 

Mt. Triglav, Slovenia’s highest peak, runs at 2,864 meters (or 9,296 feet for my American homies), and is shaped like, well, like three heads.  The humbling thing is that the mountain isn’t really that high, especially when I think that I’m now in Nepal, where locals would not even consider such an elevation to be a foothill. That’s not just an assumption, either – a Nepalese man told me, that is not even a foothill. But when you start at 526 meters, you end up gaining around 2,338 meters. That’s a lot of meters for a flatlander like me. But even then, that’s assuming you manage to hike in a relatively straight line. 

Which, I do not. 

I missed the cattle gate marking the beginning of my route and ended up making a giant ‘C’, inefficiently gaining and losing hundreds of meters of elevation throughout the day until I reached the lowest mountain hut, 400 meters below the one where I planned to sleep. It was 6pm, I had hiked twice as long as I expected, been out of water for 2 hours, and I had no idea if they even had room for me since I had no reservation at this hut (pictured below).

Somehow, 37 of the 38 beds were taken and I managed to get the last one. I was really lucky; others who arrived after me had to sleep on tables. I ordered cabbage stew, bread, and a hot cup of tea, silently worrying about the nine hours of hiking the next day. Eighteen hours in two days was more than I’d done with partners and I doubted I had it in me. 

But then I looked up and saw the same four French guys sitting at the next table that I had briefly chatted with on the road near the trailhead that morning. Joining them felt like a relief, as we began to share experiences from our day. They bought me a glass of wine when they heard how lost I had gotten, which made me start to wonder why I had insisted on doing this solo. What did I need to prove? I have some pretty badass friends who have done many solo treks, including six months through the Appalachian Trail. Maybe I just wanted to see what that felt like, to be without company and get to know myself like that. To see what my pace was without other influences, to see where my thoughts drifted with no distractions. Or some sort of hippie junk like that. 

But if this trip is my chance to learn about myself, then I already know that I love being in community. So I asked to join them for their summit bid early the next morning and thankfully, they said yes.  

Final_day_Triglav_Slovenia

We woke up early and worked our way up the trail, with the four of them stopping every now and then to make sure I was okay (I’ve learned I’m a slow hiker). They wanted to do the longer variation to the summit, which was cool with me because I already felt better hiking with them. We arrived at Triglavski Dom, the last hut before the via ferrata section. 

They started pulling out harnesses and helmets and as I looked at the summit, I realized it was steeper and more exposed than other via ferratas I’d done. I hadn’t brought my harness or helmet, so we fashioned a harness out of a few slings and carabiners and began working up the last 300 meters to the ridge. The rock was polished, the ridge was sharp, and we lost our footing more than once. I remembered my Slovenian friends telling me that a few people die on the ridge each year as I passed memorials along the way. 

Via Ferrata on ridge toward Triglav Summit

But thankfully we made it, joining another group of psyched trekkers at the summit. Normally it kind of sucks to have to share your summit with a group, but this time it felt less like a crowd of strangers and more like a community of really, really happy people. 

We snapped some photos and booked it out of there as more people started to make their way up. We passed one woman with a guitar strapped to her back and a 70-something man who looked dressed for a family photo, in his sweater vest and pressed slacks. Slovenians are absolutely insane. 

We made it back down to Triglavski Dom, where I left my French friends, as they planned to rest and then do more hiking in the mountains. On my own again, I was struck by how gorgeous these mountains were, these mountains that had seemed so frustrating only the day before. I really began to realize then, that mountains aren’t just beautiful – they’re honest. These beautiful mountains that I was so struck by don't care about me. They don't care how tired or dehydrated or hot or cold I was. Or how embarrassed I was to have missed a gate and turned an 11 hour hike into 18 hours. They have seen plenty of hikers before me and they will continue to see others, long after I left. I think had respected the mountains before this trip, but no where near to the level I do now. The best I can do is make peace with them and hope to continue to exploring. 

3 Comments

Subscribe to my stories

* indicates required