Once again, I got a lot of remarks when telling others what I was up to next.
You are heading into the mountains with 20 women? Who are strangers? And not a single guy is going?
And I'd try to explain how it would be wicked and we'd all be singing Kumbaya by the fire each night, and they wouldn't believe me. I almost didn't believe me.
But off we went, into some of the wildest, toughest country with 50+lbs on our backs for 9 days of Type 2 fun.
And we cursed those fucking mountains. We cursed that fucking buck brush. And those fucking nobs.
And we were scared. Scared while our feet felt like they would come out from under us as white water rushed up to our hips and the weight of our packs felt like they would sink us into the rivers we crossed. Scared, while trying to focus on breathing and on placing one foot in front of the other as we scaled down a tiny shale goat trail with a sheer drop awaiting the slightest misstep.
But man, oh man, did we feel alive. We jumped in ice cold rivers. We weathered out storms and instead of cowering in our tents, we'd throw on rain gear and stay out drinking moonshine by the fire. We caught fish in a lake. When we ran into a grizzly in the alpine, we banded together and hollered and yelled, telling him exactly where to go.
We woke each morning, not only with sore feet but with sore stomachs from laughing so much the night before. We bargained ichiban and coffee and mountain house. And some of us cried. Tears of frustration, happiness and pain.
And all of these women, who hiked into those mountains as strangers, flew out of the mountains as great friends. There is something unique to forming a friendship with someone while you conquer your fears, haven't showered in 8 days and are shitting in the woods. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
This is how Wild Women Take the North.
On a side note, I just want to thank my best friend, Jocelyn @northernrockiesfitness for having me guide with you on these trips. I am so proud of you.