A Feral Lady

We agreed we’d meet at the trailhead at 9AM, so after savoring one glorious cup of caffeinated coffee on the drive to Fort St. James, I greeted four strong women accompanied by four dogs. Thus began our 12+ Kilometer day hike in the glorious outdoors.

Mount Pope is the trail I compare all my hikes to. Each time I go to hike her I anticipate it being this gentle, well trailed, beauty of a hike and am always completely humbled, for she requires you to earn her view: the first 2.5KM are constant uphills and frequent switchbacks leave my lungs working and calves screaming. This time was no different, as we all entertained that it would be a lovely hike up the mountain, quite naturally, whipped our asses more than a few times. 

Throughout the job run-ins, I’ve forced friend-ed these four individuals through work* and I knew they were fairly active so I thought I’d make the reach and invite them out for an adventure. With each of us in a different part of our life-cycle, one with children, one with grandchildren (this is a coworkers mum), some new careers and some new lifestyles, the conversations kept flowing with so much insight and information. I'd gather new information that I'd stow away in my mind for safe keeping with each person I'd hike beside. One woman told me about running her first half shortly after having her first daughter and [I know this sounds absurd] the ability for me to do this was simply unimaginable, so I peppered her with questions to set aside to prepare for my own future. Following the footsteps of one the other woman, we discussed work-life balance and how our anxiety is really amplified if we don't manage it well enough and create boundaries, as hard as that often is.

Once I made it past the first three kilometers, the trail plateau’s deceivingly and even slopes down for a bit. I love being outside, it instantly makes me happier. And, the scent of the forest was, as always, amazing, I noticed as the wide trail was completely surrounded by trees and brush. For me, it’s all encompassing and incredibly calming. Sheer bliss.

A few days prior I was listening to a podcast that provided advice on hiking while menstruating. Within the last couple of months I had my IUD removed as I thought it may help with my health in terms of all the hormones that have been gradually entering my body for the previous eight years. As the doc showed me the tiny T insert, perhaps to provide some type of proof that yes, I was no longer on birth control and needed to an alternative means of contraception, we watched it drop into the waist bin and I couldn’t help thinking I was saying goodbye to an old friend. I still miss the security of it. I’m looking into a Cooper IUD, so hit me up with all your reviews... Returning from the fork in the road and back to the podcast: When the long time nurse/hiker discussed sanitation and cleanliness while on the trail with a period, she mentioned that she’s a fairly feral women and essentially less is more. She provided tips on using tampons in the woods, versus handling a diva cup in the wilderness, which was ultimately helpful. But, what really resonated with me was identifying as a feral women. In all honesty, if COVID has taught me anything, it’s that I’m a pretty gross lady. I don’t wash my vegetables or new-to-me clothes, and I love overnight hiking because it gives me an excuse to be a bit more grimy. I fart during any type of physical activity, including the whole way up the mountain. Indoor yoga is both loved and feared for me. I should clean my house more, brush my dog often, and clean my feet regularly, but I just don’t care. 

We finally took a break to admire the mountain view at a lookout and I forced a group photo. It was at this point I understood how proud I was of our all-women crew. It tested my lungs, my heart and my legs and it felt like a huge achievement to make it this far, with our various personalities and fitness goals. I do this hike annually (last year with my Mum, and another group of bad-ass ladies) and I feel like this time I didn’t take this view for granted. I’m pretty honest with these women about my state of mental health, and I know all four of them have their own struggles and they fight their own battles, daily. 

The idea of being a feral women is two-fold. As we took the final jaunt  around the rocks and up a steep incline, while killing my quads, I thought about how being feral is the opposite of what's expected. For me, being feral is about pushing myself, and it's about doing the hard things: physically, mentally or both. It’s about going against the norm and being uncomfortable, because it feels so damn good to do those things that scare me. It's taken me this long to appreciate what my body and mind are capable of, for better and for worse. I think a large part of it is fearing that I would never feel well enough to be capable of hiking again. And, I think if you were to think hard, there was that one time in your life, you felt that way too, where your favorite part of yourself was taken away from you; hell, maybe it's happening to you now. But you survived it and overcame it, or you will (you will!). And it was done with determination and drive or maybe merely because you had to: there is no other way but to be okay. And now it's even more of a part of who you are, because of the good, but also the bad. You identify with it, but it's not your entire identity. 

 So, I am also looking forward to building my body and mind stronger and pushing it farther, to see all the views close to home with some bad ass women, and also adventure hard on another continent. I will do all the things. I've got an extraordinary Life List on the go. Yeah, it was that good of a hike.

During various parts of the hike, we chatted about previous hikes that had been done and hikes on our bucket list. We chatted about possibilities of further hikes, snowshoes and other adventures into the wild.

 *It took everything not to call this post the Girls of Canfor, but I was envisioning calendar pinups, which was giving off a different interpretation of feminist. 

A farel lady 

Definition:

In a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication.

Amortentia

 In Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, when Harry is in Slughorn’s first Defense Against the Dark Arts' Class, there’s some caldrons bubbling, one of which is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen and the steam that rises from the position does so in spirals. It smells different to every person, according to what attracts them. Harry learns that it’s called Amortentia and to him, he smells the woody odor of his broomstick and a flowery smell that he thinks is in the burrow (suspiciously like Ginny Weasley).  Well, if I would take a whiff from that bubbling caldron, I'm fairly confident I would smell the sweet scent of forest, cinnamon (the scent of Fireball Whiskey brings all the best snowboarding memories with Mike) with an undertone of wet dog (my heart will forever belong to Hugo).

Last weekend I was equally excited as I was fearful about our panned hike just outside of Smithers. The three day two night hike was the most strenuous thing I’ve done since my anxiety moved from high functioning to no-functioning. I was unsure I would be able to handle the weight of my backpack, the incline of the hike or the weight of my anxiety: honestly, being out of reach from medical help, should I need it, was a major concern. This is sort of where I was in my life. Although I had returned to work, full time, and I had been slowly taking on more physical activities, a part of me still created an alternative plan with each activity and every movement in case I needed to go to the hospital. In case I thought I was going to pass out. In case I regressed in my health and something goes so horribly wrong with my body, because even though it seemed as though I was feeling better – which I was, comparatively, much better – I still lost the trust and confidence in my body. I'm sure to the outside world, I looked fine. But, I was still worried I was going to wake up at 3AM on the mountain side with my heart pounding against my rib cage, unable to calm myself down, incapable of talking myself off the ledge, powerless in terms of helping myself and getting myself to a hospital: to somewhere safe. And I’m learning that this is the messiness with mental health. My councilor, Toni, explained to me that I’m a very well put together person. I’m happy, successful and I looked normal Noooorrrmaal. Mental health isn’t something you can see. If you look fine, it’s assumed that you are fine.

My Natural Path, Tanner, told me that I need to keep pushing myself outside of my comfort zone to gain trust in my heart and in my body. So, I brought the two people that I felt I loved the most. Mike agreed that despite hunting season starting this month, he would accompany me sans gun and more food that we could possibly need, up the mountain side. Kayla, ever the planner, brought her confidence, camera and upbeat attitude (and 50lbs of gear). So, with two SPOT GPS devices to get us the hell off the mountain if need be, we met up at the trailhead.

Passby Trail began by and old horse carrell; we were told that this hike was at one time a pack horse trail (for hunting?). Once you went up an old access road with grown in poplar trees whose branches whip you in the face as you navigate through the overgrown road, you eventually you find your way through an old cutblock, which is probably 40 years new by now, so the trees are rather tall. After following the sound of running water, you eventually hit a formal hiking path that leads you to an old growth forest.

With Kayla and Mike silently agreeing to take the majority of the hiking gear and gracing me with significantly lighter 25lbs back pack, we were all at a similar pace. We anticipated a rainy, cold weekend and despite some rain, Mother Nature was on our side. Some of the hike was spent in silence as we endured some steep parts, and others were spent laughing at Mike’s very noisy farts (the rain pants amplified everything) and much of it was spent grumbling over the blow down, as it seemed quite the art to balance your body weight with the weight of your backpack in order to climb over fallen logs and debris without your face breaking your fall as you failed to land on the other side of the rotting tree.  

The old grown forest is magnificent. The whole area is covered in luscious moss, with the trail is clearly visible with brown natural debris. The trees are large with canopy that protect you from the other parts of the world as well as any anxiety. The sun is able to spill through in some spots, giving the chlorophyll within the leaves a transparent glow. I can’t help but deepen my breathing, while appreciating the combination of pollinating plants and sweet, warm air. I kept catching myself closing my eyes and inhaling longer as every breath brought back memories of past hiking adventures and calmness. Hello Meditaion At Last. My lingering anxiety diminished and I was taken to my Happy Place: the scent of my Amortentia; Amorentia is the most powerful love potion in existence.

After passing through marsh-like flooring and repeating almost pleadingly that the beginning of the peak was just around the corner, my feet were successfully wet and my body tired as we reached the saddle of the mountain, where we’d set up camp.

I love hiking food. At home, I’ll purchase 50% off tomatoes (Mike and his sister Courtney thinks this is a terrible life choice), but when it comes to adventures like hiking, I’ll spare no expense when it comes to food. Or good carbs it seems, as we binged on Alfrado pasta, bear pepperoni and celebrated with some Whiskey (cinnamon now also reminds me of hiking).

I woke up to enjoy some caffeinated coffee, which I now indulge in only on the weekends. I wrapped my cold paws around the cup and enjoyed the taste of real coffee around a campfire and a beautiful, clear view, which is hard to get in the mountains around Smithers. Passby was much better that I could have ever anticipated. You see, I didn’t think I would ever have the physical ability to overnight hike again. When the heart palpitations and panic attacks begin, my whole being spirals. When the chest pains began, I believe that's when I hit rock bottom. There were some moments when I thought I was dying. I was aware of my heart beating after eating any particularly rich meal. I was aware of the chest discomfort when I first woke up in the morning. I thought about my health all the time; I was worried about my heart exploding when I was having sex (try having an orgasm with that on your mind).  My sister (and my counsellor, my natural path, my mum, and Julie, the nurses, Mike, and a few emergency doctors) told me that this was my anxiety that was creating physical symptoms. I can tell you as I’m typing this that I believe they are correct. I suffer from anxiety, which, at my worst, creates panic attacks triggered by the beating of my heart which pushes me off the edge and makes me believe that surly, I am dying. But at my worst, when this is happening, I am hands on knees facing the floor, chocking in air and going down the rabbit hole of worse-case-scenarios. It’s virtually impossible to talk me off that ledge, just ask

 Mike. And that's when I can't believe it's Just Anxiety.

We hiked to Arrow Peak and made it to the top of No Name Mountain (for real, it has a sign and all). Despite the wind and constant slope, which made the hike feel far worse that it should have, the view was well worth it. We found ourselves with a 365 degree view at the mountain top. Despite this being Mike's and my third attempt, it’s the first time we’ve made it to the peak - a 1000 meter difference from the trailhead. I couldn’t imagine having any other better people to join me on this hike; The two people who I wanted and needed for reassurance, safety and companionship on this hike were perfectly suited as Kayla and Mike. Mike turned to me as we were walking closely and slowly toward the ridge. He told me how much he loved that I did these adventures with him.

I feel strong, I feel healthy and I feel like I am okay.

Kirstin.

Amortentia is said to be one of the most seductive scent's ever inhaled.