I’m As Free As a Bird Now…

“Look, I won’t go far, okay?  If the apocalypse comes, beep me.”

– Buffy, BtVS, “Never Kill a Boy on the First Date”

Last summer, I spent a week at a dude ranch in Montana, riding horses, shooting rifles, panning for gold, hiking, incredible wildlife viewing, and generally hanging out.  Montana is a great place to hang out.  That’s because, out on the ranches, even those that are “close to town” by their standards are far away by the standards of us city dwellers.  The ranch where I stayed had a driveway that was over a mile long between the main road and the first ranch buildings (the corral), and that’s considered short.

I mention all of this because, while I was on the ranch for a week, I had no access to email or my cell.  None.  There was simply no signal out there.  You could get a sort of sketchy signal on the main road, so if I was truly desperate, technically I could have walked out there.  Believe me, I considered it.

I’m hyper-connected.  I am checking email constantly, texting, making phone calls, on Facebook, etc.  I’m also one of those people who gets a LOT of incoming communication.  I go a day without checking messages, and I have hundreds to weed through (both work and personal), and that’s mighty overwhelming.

Last week, we talked a little bit about bringing your cell along when you solo hike.  I mentioned the big caveat, which is that it won’t always work out there in the wild (or on a Montana ranch), but I urged you to bring it along anyhow.  I’ve noticed, however, that there is a common reaction to this suggestion: But I’m going out into the wilderness!  Isn’t bringing a cell phone defeating the purpose?

No.  Not at all.  And here’s why:

Your phone has an off button.

Simple, I know, but oh-so-important.  The phone is a safety precaution.  (And, if you’re like me, a way to snap a photo and upload it for everyone’s viewing pleasure, whether at the moment or at a later time.)  I don’t check my email on hikes.  I don’t make calls.  I tend to silence my phone or turn it off entirely.  I have it just in case, but I take the opportunity to completely ignore it, and my hyper-connected life.

It’s good to disconnect every so often.  You can do it at home, too — try going 24 hours without answering the phone, checking your email, or turning on the television.  I call it “going hermit.”  It’s unbelievably serene (if you can find the 24 hours to do it).  All those voices and nagging wonders about what’s going on slowly quiet down, so that even when you get back to the bustle you feel more in control and less rushed.

Hiking and camping is the perfect opportunity to disconnect.  Bring the phone.  Make sure it’s charged.  And then turn it off until you need it.  You won’t be sorry.

Photo Friday

So we didn’t get enough entries in the contest.  I am SO disappointed.  But wait!  It’s my contest.  So I am hereby extending the deadline to next Friday, February 12.  But that’s it, and I mean it.  Check out the other entries here.  Think you can do better?  Send in your own!

Meanwhile, here’s a bit of Western majesty for you on this Happy Friday.

Colorado National Monument

Hit the Road, Jane

Today over at Go Girl, I give you ten questions to consider before embarking on an amazing road trip.

Check it out here.  While you’re there, poke around our new site!

And don’t forget to enter Her Side’s CONTEST!  Deadline is tomorrow, and we haven’t yet gotten enough entries.  Bring on your incredible moments!

Get Off My Back

Choosing a backpack for day hiking might seem like a daunting task.  You walk into a large outdoor outfitter and they line the walls, in all colors and sizes.  Some have lots of little accessories.  Some are huge and some are small.  Some have internal frames, whatever those are.  Some have hydration sacs, which sounds a little funky.  Some cost more than your monthly car payment.  How to figure out what you need?  And why can’t you just dig out that old one you used in college?

The backpack that’s right for you has to be the one that’s right for you.  Deep, isn’t it?  I’m serious.  Backpacks are a very personal matter, because your back is a very important part of your body.  If you’ve ever had a back injury, you’ll know that when your back isn’t in good shape, everything becomes more difficult.  So do yourself a favor, and take the time to find the backpack that will keep your back in good shape.

First of all, that old backpack you used in college isn’t a good idea for hiking, at least not serious hiking.  In a pinch, for a short hike, you could make it work, but hiking backpacks are designed to hold more in an efficient way that allows you to access your supplies readily, and they are designed to fit you properly to distribute the weight, let you keep your balance, and save your back (and shoulders).

So, what should you look for in a day hiking backpack?

• Woman-Specific Packs: Manufacturers got smart and finally started making packs that are specifically designed for women.  While I’m not 100% in favor of some women-specific items (see my grumble about “women’s” first aid kits), in the case of a backpack it’s essential.  Women’s backpacks are built to fit women’s torsos, which are generally shorter than men’s torsos; this way, the pack can sit on your hips (where the weight should be focused) and allow the shoulder straps to fit as well.  The shoulder straps themselves are contoured differently than men’s to account for…well, breasts.  All of this means that the packs designed for women will not only be more comfortable for you, but are also better for you.
• Storage Space/Configuration:  Every pack is different, and you might not know precisely how much space you need until you try it out, and there is a broad range out there (at least as broad as 1000 – 2300 cubic inches).  I can honestly tell you I’m not sure how big mine is, but I’m going to guess it’s around 1700 cubic inches.  It’s important to remember that you don’t always have to stuff it full, so if in doubt, go with something on the upper end of the range.  As to configuration, take a look at how the pack is constructed.  I like multiple compartments (a primary and a secondary and maybe one more small one) in order to divide up gear.  I also like a couple of pockets on the sides (so I can stick the GPS, an apple, etc. for easy access), and handy loops so you can attach other things if necessary.
• Water System: It’s up to you whether or not you get a pack with a hydration system, but I think it’s worth the extra cost.  There are packs with hydration sacs that hold a couple of liters of water (I’ve found to be plenty for even a significant day hike as long as it’s not a million degrees), and provide for easy hydration while on the go.  It eliminates the need to carry separate water bottles — but if you aren’t in the mood to use the sac, you can remove it.  One hint: don’t put anything but water in there, because it can be a royal pain to clean.
• Fit: Yep, you get to go shopping.  Try the packs on.  Connect the waist strap.  See how it distributes weight between your hips and shoulders.  See how the straps feel.  Don’t be afraid to walk around the store for a bit to make sure it’s what you want.  Because day packs can cost anywhere from $75 to several hundred dollars, take the time you need to make the right purchase.

That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Don’t forget to enter Her Side’s first CONTEST!!!  Deadline is Friday, February 5th, and so far we haven’t met the minimum entries…tell your friends!

Can You Hear Me Now?

Ah, cell phones.  Twenty years ago they were only for the very wealthy — and the very strong…did you see the size of those things?  Now, however, they are tiny, multi-functional lifelines that most of us couldn’t imagine living without.  They are also the solo female traveler’s best friend.

Back when I took my road trip, I had a cell phone.  It was a cute little silver flip phone from Motorola, not the top of the line, but certainly sleek enough for the day.  That phone came in very handy while I was out on my own.  One day, when I was headed back east on Rte 40 in New Mexico, I blew out a rear tire.  I avoided the speeding 18-wheelers, pulled over to the side of the road, and pulled out my phone, praying I would have a bar or two.  I did!  I called AAA, they showed up and changed my tire, and I was on my way once again.  I was never so thankful to have the phone, because it was a nearly 10 mile walk to the next exit.

This brings us to Rule Number 8 (8!  Can you believe it?)

Don’t Forget Your Cell Phone.

When out on your own, having a (working, charged) phone with you decreases the risks you face.  It’s a lifeline to the rest of the world.  This is true even while hiking and camping.  Remember my friends A and B?  One of them let his phone lose the charge and the other didn’t bother bringing hers, and so they found themselves out in the woods in the dark, sort of lost, with no mode of communication available.  (Sorry to keep referring to that story, guys, but it’s such a great real life example!)

Now, this rule comes with one big caveat: Just because you bring your phone doesn’t mean you should neglect your other precautions. 

Unfortunately, this is a common way of dealing with technology — we become so dependent on it that we lose the ability to function without it.  I rely heavily on my car’s GPS and so it takes me longer to learn how to get places without it.  I rely on my phone to find people now…we’ll pick a time to meet and a general place and then call each other to triangulate once there, which means that, if the phone dies or you leave it behind, you might be out of luck.  It’s always a good idea to have a back-up (often luddite) solution if your techno-tastic precautions fail.

The truth is, there isn’t always great cell reception in the wilderness.  You’re less likely to have reception the farther out you go, and this means the phone could end up being useless as a rescue device.  Does that mean you shouldn’t bother bringing it?  No, because that’s not always the case, and if you’re hiking closer to city limits on day hikes, you’re more likely to be able to get some service — and, if you do need help, you can more easily describe your problem than by just sending up a flare.

Besides, if you have a phone that’s the size of the one Zack is using in the photo above, you’ll get an extra workout as well.

Don’t forget to enter Her Side’s First Contest!  Deadline Friday!

© Her Side of the Mountain, 2010.

Her Side’s First Contest!

I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s missing from this blog, and I’ve decided that what’s missing is good, old-fashioned competition.  Yep, that’s right.  Now introducing…

Her Side of the Mountain’s very first CONTEST!

I want to hear your stories about hiking and camping.  They don’t even have to be stories about hiking and camping solo.  For this first contest, I specifically want to hear about the most incredible moment you’ve experienced while hiking or camping.

The winner will receive — aside from extreme bragging rights – a 5×7 photo, taken by me while solo hiking!  You can put it in your office and dream of being outside.  (That’s what I do.)  You’ll even get your choice, from one of these three photos:

Dark Hollow Falls, Shenandoah National Park, VA

Zion National Park, UT

Morning Glory Pool, Yellowstone National Park, WY

Pretty cool, right?  So, here are the rules:

• Tell me, either by posting in the comments or emailing hermountain at gmail.com, the story of the most incredible moment you experienced while hiking or camping.  It doesn’t have to be a solo experience.  It can be about hiking or camping, it doesn’t have to be about both.  I’m looking for something that scared you, or inspired you, or an encounter with wildlife, or a triumph, or a failure, or a moment of revelation, or whatever you want.  Be creative.  (But not lewd, please!) 
• If you need an example, look here for a post I wrote last week about a moment of revelation in the Smokies.  But you don’t have to send a photo.
• Keep it short.  I’m not looking for a treatise, so keep your story to 300 words or less.  Preferably less.
• You don’t have to be a writer.  I mean, make sure that the grammar and punctuation and spelling make the thing readable so I can understand it, but don’t worry if you don’t think of yourself as a wordsmith.  Just pretend you’re writing me an email.
• Make sure I know how to contact you if you win by giving me your email.
• I’m going to set a minimum here — I need to receive at least ten entries in order to give out the prize.  Otherwise, we’ll try it again.  This is your chance to get in while the getting it good!  As (hopefully) readership grows, your chances will be slimmer…
• The deadline is next Friday, February 5, 2010.
• In order to keep things fair, I’ll give the entries, without attribution, to a disinterested third party who will narrow the choices down to three, and then I’ll choose from there.

Any questions?  If not, then bring it on…

© Her Side of the Mountain 2010.

Wordless Wednesday

I didn’t make that up, I stole it.  And now I’ve lied, because here are some words.  Today, you get a photo since Her Side is in triage mode at work — but don’t worry, I’ll work extra hard and Friday won’t be a Photo Friday!  Here is the Grand Canyon, in September 2004:

© Her Side of the Mountain, 2010.

A Word About Why

Since I began writing this blog — actually, since I started solo hiking and camping — I get the inevitable question:

Why?

I’ve talked a little on here about why I like to hike, and what I like about camping, but I haven’t yet addressed the big question.  Why solo?

I’m not sure I have a final answer to this question, but here are some thoughts:

• I love the outdoors.  I really love the outdoors.  I didn’t always — I grew up in a family happier in a movie theater or reading books than even eating dinner out in the backyard.  Over time, however, that changed, and there’s something about being outside that is invigorating — and not just outside, but out in nature.  Maybe it’s the fresh air.  Maybe it’s the feeling that you’re not contained in anything but the big blue sky above you.  Maybe it’s some primal instinct to connect with the Earth.  I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know that I get antsy and depressed and stressed when too much time goes by between jaunts out into nature.  Being alone out there lets me “commune” at my own speed.
• I like to get away from the crowds.  I’m a city girl.  I’m a social person.  I talk a lot.  This means that I spend a lot of time talking with people in person, on the phone, over email, instant messenger, texting, etc.  I spend a lot of time in the midst of crowds, on the street, on the subway, in stores — even in the park.  Sometimes it’s just too much, and there are two choices: stay in my house, or get away from the city and into the woods.  Both are viable options, but the second one is a lot more fun.  Getting out into the woods alone is a time to breathe and recharge for the next whirlwind of social activity.  Being alone on the trail ensures that I can avoid the constant need to socialize if I want.
• It gives me time to think.  Being busy — in career and socially — means I spend a lot of time thinking.  However, I spend a lot of time thinking about what has to be done and the most efficient way to do it rather than real reflection and introspection.  Being alone out on the trail with the calming effect of nature and no demands on my time and attention gives me a chance to slow my brain down and actually think about important life things — without the temptations of the television, music, email, etc. to distract me.
• It gives me a sense of accomplishment, independence, and freedom.  This is really the most incredible thing – if you’ve ever accomplished something you didn’t think you could do on your own, you’ll know the feeling.  When it’s something traditionally viewed as a male activity, that feeling is even more intense.  Suddenly, you’re one with Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, rubbing elbows with Rosie the Riveter and sharing war stories with Amelia Earhart.  Women are taught that from a young age that they need to be taken care of, and to realize that that’s not precisely true is a proud moment.  I have that proud moment every time I successfully complete a solo hike or camping trip.  Solo camping and hiking is on another level from just being master of your finances, knowing how to check the oil in your car, or successfully replastering that section of the bathroom wall where your towel rack fell out (ahem).  Solo camping and hiking taps into a more primitive feeling of self-sufficiency, independence, and freedom. 

You’ll notice that, on my list of reasons, is not that I can’t find people to go with me.  This is sometimes true, and it’s what broke the seal on solo hiking for me in the first place: I was sick of waiting around for a time when my schedule meshed with someone else’s for a whole day and they wanted to spend it out in the woods.  But that was then.  Now, I solo hike and camp not because I can’t find a companion.  Now, I go solo deliberately because I’ve found that it does something for my soul that no other activity does.

That photo at the top?  It’s a quiet moment on a trail.  There’s really nothing like it.

© Her Side of the Mountain, 2010.

Photo Friday

When I drove all over the US, I got as far out west as Wyoming, Utah, and Arizona.  I was on the road for almost 6 weeks. 

I knew I was closer to home when I started hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains, in Tennessee.  It smelled more like home, because the greenery was more like what I was used to than the plant life out in the West.  I stood on the trail, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and, for a second, I got a little homesick.  I had been on the road for a month, after all.  I missed my cat, and my roommates, and my friends, and my family.  I missed my bed. 

Then I opened my eyes and remembered why I was having such a great time, and instead of being homesick, I thought, “I can’t believe this trip is almost over!”  Here is that moment of realization:

© Her Side of the Mountain, 2010.

Beginnings and Endings

Today, on Go Girl, I talk about football, meeting folks on a road trip, and mothers who worry.

Check it out!

© Her Side of the Mountain, 2010.