Trail Magic

September, 2022

One foot in front of the other I trudge up the mountain. The hike seems impossibly long. Mike shared his cold with me, but he has long since recovered while I hike congested and coughing and on day three. Twice I collapsed on a nearby rotting log and I ask him if we really want to hike today? Do we realllly? His words are surprisingly upbeat as he comments on the altitude we already gained and on how nice it will be once we hit the alpine. In hindsight, I never thought to raise my eyebrows at Mike, the ever realist, who wasn’t one for overly positive words of encouragement. We were planning to stay for three nights, and I can’t recall my backpack ever feeling this heavy, I’m not sure if that’s due to the head cold or by simply living off of Thai food at the beginning of the summer.

This was our fourth summer hiking Passby, you’ll remember me blogging about it previously (or maybe this is your first read!). It’s our favorite hike, and the only hike Mike agrees to do more than once – he’s a one and done hiking kind of guy, and prefers walking with a gun. Passby begins at an old horse corral and meanders its way up the mountainside just outside of Smithers, BC, through an old cut block to a lush forest of large fers, and finally to the wide open alpine. What is now a well-maintained hike, was once used with pack horses for hunting, and we are told also by the original People of this land. The trail has changed since we did this hike a mere four years ago as it’s become slightly more popular, and the blow-down on the trail has been removed, the beginning of the trail labelled and widened.

As soon as we reach our usual camping area, I bust out the mickey of fireball from Mikes pack. Exercise may not kill this cold, but a sure shot of Dr. Mcgillicuddy’s cinnamon whiskey surely should do the trick. I place the dehydrated pasta meals by the fire and take a long pull from a tall boy of some local brew we purchased in Smithers. Mike’s just set up our florescent orange tent and sits down beside me on his green pair of rain pants spayed out on the forest floor.

I breath in the sweet forest scents and wood smoke from the campfire. I inhale long and deep and for the first time since unexpectedly returning to Canada, I look at Mike sipping his Bud, and I focused on the right now. We talk about everything that stresses us and everything that excites us: Mike has incorporated and is subcontracting for a local mine and sawmill (Mac Attack Millwrighting). He’s talked about owning his own business since the very beginning, so this is a huge and difficult goal. I’m dabbling in the agriculture industry and it’s nothing what I thought it would be like (I've long since left and went back to the mine).

I talk about missing Hugo and how it’s soul crushing, but time, and he holds my hand in understanding, because Mike loved him too. And I bring up coming back to Canada early and how I’m still mourning that impossible decision. But we talk about promises of other adventures: hiking the West Coast Trail, visiting Scotland, Snowboarding and seeing Kwejac, the land Mike’s grandmother Anne from. And I’m smiling again.

We are renting out our home and in the process of purchasing a second (update, currently renoing the second). I’m living in camp on a 4x3 rotation while Mike is up in Fort St. James renting a suite on some lakefront property, with no time to enjoy it as he’s ten on and four off work.  We cohabitate on the weekend, living off of strong coffee and the delusional idea that next week, life will slow down. We chat about how much work the house is going to be, but also how rewarding the work will be. We giggle about divorce dust and sweat equity, terminology that Mikes parents provided us, and hope to hell it’ll be the later outcome. And I realize the difference between excitement and anxiety is simply who you’re in it with.

After savoring two cups of camp coffee, my favorite type of coffee, and having some oatmeal for breakfast Mike suggests that we hike to Arrow Lake. Last summer we hiked to the peak of Passby, and we spottled the lake from up top. The hike today isn’t nearly as strenuous without overnight backpacks on, and I’m feeling much better than the day before. Mike admits his sleep was terrible due to me open mouthed snoring while facing him all night long - I’m a keeper!

We make our way above the alpine, going across the mountain, not directly up it, and cross three large voids, with small streams at the center. I find an old caribou shed, which was amazing, since they haven’t been on this mountains in about a hundred years, Mike explains; there’s only moose in this area now. After detouring a couple of times from finding and loosing the path, we walk across the scree toward the clear blue waters of Arrow Lake. After a leisurely lunch consisting of Mr. Noodles, to get a better view of the lake, we climb up the rolling hill. Mike suggests continuing in a final attempt of finding the second lake and a cabin we were told about. The long grass rubs my legs with the wind pushing against us,  and I’m staring at my feet in attempts of not getting tangled in the wild grass. I look up to a beautiful view without a lake or cabin and swear to myself knowing Mike will push on to go up just one more hill. He says something about how he’d doesn’t matter how many corners or mountains we climb as long as he's in it with me, but this is a lose paraphrase because I was thinking about yet another damn hill we needed to climb and that I was mouth breathing harrrd already, when I look up and he’s holding rings. 

The bustling noise of the wind stops and my ears are ringing and I forget about mouth breathing, but I think my mouth is wide open. I stare at this tiny, elegant ring with a red garnet shining back at me, safely displayed in Mike’s comically monster mechanic paw. And for the first time ever, I’m speechless. And my world stops. Because before Mike, I didn’t care about marriage, or weddings, or soulmates, or life partners. I am unapologetically independent. But then I met this person who is my equal, who stood beside me when my anxiety broke me and is okay in that I cry All. The. Time. I found this man who makes me do all the things that scare me, like snowboard drops, and purchasing a house in my name, and skydiving when I thought I'd blow an eardrumb due to plugged ears. I found someone who made me want a legally binding forever, and made me want to believe in the idea of forever and I want to be a wife for and a parent with. I found this person who I want to spend my whole life with, who makes me a better version of myself, whose problems I too want to solve, who fixes my Volkswagen so I make dinner and happily complete the pink jobs and pushes back hard when I push him. And now I'm happily gush-rambling.

Mike never actually said the words, he only held out a stunning second-hand ring, gifted by his sister, which means the world, originally his Grandma Anne’s. I think I said various words like wow and sputtered a lot. And Mike laughed. And I took the rings. It fits perfectly; a perfect sign of a sure thing.

Later, Mike told me he would have gotten down on one knee, but he knew I was a feminist. And it was just the most perfect proposal.

Kirstin

My best relationship advice: Make sure you're the crazy one.

Dear John

When I think of you I think about the state of your hair depicting your day. At work, the more ruffled your hair indicated the emotional toll of the day. I think about that amazing cake you had Elaine make of my broken down sunfire that was a regular conversation at work, essentially if it would make it another day.

I reached out to you before even my own mom, when my passport was stolen in Cambodia. Logically, I needed my birth certificate which was stashed among my other fragmented possessions in a Canfor storage bay, so I was looking for how I could access that being a country away. The first thing you asked me was if I was okay and if I needed money. Financially, I was fine but emotionally, you made me feel so much more secure. Ever a feminist, it was only you and Budd, the Plant Manager, who I allowed to refer to me as The Girl, in indearing terms. As you both told employees, contractors and visitors alike, to go talk to The Girl to seek additional help.

We had a complacated relationship, to be sure. I've drifted away from the closeness of my own dad and so throughout the last seven years I've acquired a select few father-like figures on my own. One relationship includes Mike's very own Dad, who has shown me how an adult parental relationship functions, including ever helping and advising us on our house renovation dreams. But you were very much on this list of men who have deeply impacted my life, and I'm sorry I never told you this.

And like any close relationship, my affection for you was as equally strong as my frustrations. Our professional relationship was blended with heated conversations about managing and possibly mismanaging employees, some humorous and some not, where the end of the loud conversation ended with you quickly evicting the office to the safe haven of your bus stop, aka where you smoked, and I would rush back to my own desk fuming in misunderstanding.

I didn't realize how deeply I hurt you when I accepted a Human Resources position within the mining industry. I wasn't leaving you John, but merely following in your footsteps as the majority of your career took place within the mining world. I should have told you that. I saw your eyes light up, as you sat with me on Canfor company time, going over the milling process of extracting gold from the earth. I know now that you initially thought our work relationship would come to an end, but you became even more of a mentor and friend to me as I navigate my way through an industry you knew so well, as I called to discuss metallurgy and engineering. I really appreciated and enjoyed that.

When I was told about your departing, dear John, I'm only sorry I never told you how much you meant to me and how much you influenced my life decisions and impacted my life path. I was shocked when I first got word of what happeened. I hadn't had time to process and appreciate what you meant to me, to untangle and understand the role you took on in my personal and professional life. Mostly, I regret not telling you any of this. I reached out to friends and coworkers as I knew they cherished you just as much. Really, it was a selfish attempt for them to help me cope with loosing you; I know they felt those same feelings of loss. You made so many people's life better.

I thought I would have more time; Mike and I had every intention on visiting you and Nancy on the island when we hiked the West Coast Trail. I'm only hoping your retired colleague and friend, Jeff, will take us in come summer.

I looked back on our text message and take solice that I connected with you in mid September. You were one of the first I told about our engagement, where you promised a beer on our behalf and a visit if the ceremony were to take place in Smithers. Half of that will still remain true. 

And so, as I once again accept a Human Resources position within the mining industry, it was you who I automatically sought out to help me negotiate an offer. To be proud of me. Only you're no longer here. 

I had many people reach out to me when they found about your passing. It was such a compliment that they knew we were close and how sad I would be, and I take a small amount comfort and much hope that if friends and coworkers knew how much you meant to me, maybe you did too.

Fish on, John

With so much love,

Kirstin

The Stairway to Heaven

They graciously allowed me, the introvert, to take advantage of some alone time as they sat as a pair, chatting and channel changing, and I took a seat sitting next to a stranger. 

Headphones in, book on lap, eyes averted from the stranger next to me as to not encourage any sort of conversation whatsoever, the plane slowly decended and I watched Meg, sitting next to our mom, curiously looking out of the window and I wondered what she was thinking. For nine whole days, she would be childless and without a partner, experiencing a new life -  my life - without any responsibility, meeting new personalities and pushing herself far beyond her comfort zone. She would feel what I feel each time I travel to a new place, and I was so dang excited for her.

But, the thrill of saying yes to a new adventure and seeing new lifestyles and essentially being responsibly free, I knew, was overshadowed by other things. I pushed Meg into this trip. My mom and I originally discussed this trip, any trip, really. I have gone on many adventures solo, but it was only through the support of my sisters and my mom's words that pushed me to say yes to that first big adventire to Peru in 2012, when she blatently told me it was time to quit my [shitty] job and travel, as I've always wanted to do. So, I asked if she wanted to come along on a trip with me and I suggested Oahu, Hawaii. I found an old email thread between my old friend Amber from 2015 (she once told me Asia will change my life. It did) about wanting to complete a hike in Hawaii. 

The Haiku Stairs, more commonly known as the Stairway to Heaven, was built in 1942 by the U.S. Navy as a top-secret facility for transmitting radio signals to ships that were sailing in the Pacific Ocean. After this, the stairs were left to rust and allow nature to take over. In 2002 the government planned to invest money into these stairs to fix them and turn them into a tourist destination, but politics got involved and this purposal was put to an end. Since then, climbing the Stairway to Heaven is forbidden, illegal even, with a security guard given the ability to fine trespassers up to $1000 USD. I've always wanted to take the legal route, a round about 16.6km round trip through the rainforest, which leads to the stairs and take the illegal way down.

My mom was instantly up for the adventure to Oahu and even insisted on it when I mentioned my hesitancy due to the costs with the high American dollar. Megan heard about the trip and showed interest and I booked us three flights for April, 2022. But traveling across North America was not small feat. Meg hadn't left Canada for eight years, before my two small nieces were born, and she had to maneuver her and Justin's schedule, as he was working the camp life every other week. We were still not quite at the tail end of COVID (are we even now?), and the idea of cramming herself in a tin can plane and going from a underpopulated small town into an overcrowded island pushed her to her tipping point. After three attempts at backing out I coerced her into coming. So yeah, as we decended into Ohau, I thought about what Meg was thinking about.

After a minor hiccup with a car rental and a lack of car insurance, solved by local beverages on the sidewalk, we took an Uber to our Airbnb located a street from the ocean front. To my insistence, we walked allot. To my surprise, they agreed, with the exception of a trip from the grocery store - mom loudly put her foot down with the fourteenth blocks with our hands full that we'd bus it. The streets were thriving with friendly locals and happy tourists. Each day we ordered Hawaiian lattes from a local Cafe 3.5 kms from our residents. With the expense of Canadian prices but in American dollars we ate in with the exception of one meal a day. Still when I eat hummus and crackers I think of Hawaii.

Initially I had planned to pay $150 USD to join a guided trek up the Stairway to Heaven. But after chatting with my mom and Meg about the hike, and Meg finding a few few YouTube videos about it, they said they wanted to come with, with two conditions: no guide (hello expensive) and leaving early to beat the heat. Reluctantly I agreed. I was worried about hiking such a long way on uncharted territory and in the dark. Mag assured us we could use a GPS map on her phone and for nearly a day we were on a mission to find headlamps.

We started on the trailhead at 3:30am. Forcing down egg sandwiches and switching on headlamps we went up a gravel path surrounded by trees. A small break in the trees told Meg (being directionally challenged I had no bloody idea) that this was the way up. The trail systems got steeper and the tree roots got gnarlier, creating ankle breakers in the darkness. We stopped often to catch our breath. Meg noted my quietness and gave voice to my fear about getting lost by promising that we were following the electronic map on her phone. Finally a definite trail appeared as we popped out of the forest and started the climb surrounding by low bushes, tall grass and spaced out trees.  Megan was insistent that it was too early to eat, but at my insistence that she's never walked this far in a day let alone what she's accomplished before six am, we stopped for food, trading feelings of how hard this is, how tired we are, but how pretty it will be. I vocalized thoughts of turning around when we hit one of many of the ridges. It was still so dark, and the only thing the headlamp did was poorly outine the skinny path and show deep darkness on either sides of the trail, indicating a long fall down. Meg and mom rejected my concerns and with the wind teedering us back and forth from the safety of the trail, we pushed on. With the sunrise came the shockingly beautiful knowledge of where we were. The mountains that surrounded us were luscious and green, with many climbing well into the clouds. We found ourselves in the middle of a rainforest with views I've never seen without looking at a photo.

Some steep sections required the help of rope, which made me question what I talked my family into. At one point a long legged European man passed us and we exchanged tired but happy smiles. As the slow assent continued up we literally climbed into clouds. Our skin, and everything within our environment, turned damp. We came upon a steep section of very few rocks through the dirt trail. With the dew and clouds turning dust into mud, the trail seemed impassable, but we overcame it with souvenirs of sticky mud on our whole lower body. Soon after, infront of us stood yet another slippery muddy section, which looked more relatable to deep rutts carved by heavy rain fall than a popular trail system. As the path slimmed out, it reavealed nothing but cliffsides on each side, where there was a rope halfway through the steep mudslide almost mocking us. Meg went first, with her sneakers only sliding down the thick gunk of a dirt floor. When the sides of mountain skinnied into a slinky path, it exposed nothing but cliff faces on either side, and she had had enough. Despite the pleads from our up-for-anything mum (one time Mike's BFF voiced that our mom sounded more fun than me and I just sat there and agreed), I told mom enough.

Megan, a person who, despite my attempts, does not hike. Will not hike. She just does not like it. And yet somehow, I found her 7.5km up a mountain, in a whole other country, during a global pandemic, without her two girls for the first time in a very long time. I told mom that she pushed out of her comfort zone beyond anything I could ever imagine myself actually doing. She knows her limit and it's now. At Megan's insistence, mom and I continued up the mountain. 

We ran into a couple who said we were about forty minutes from the top. At that point I knew we needed to turn around. The heat was only increasing and to leave Meg for 1.5 hours without any sort of communication (especially since all three of us assumed we would be back to her long before then) was simply unfair. My mom, knowing this was a life-list adventure, asked me if I was sure. She asked me if I would regret not touching those stairs. I told her I would not. And that's the truth. I still don't.

Mom and I turned around and headed down the mountain and reached Meg. On the way down we captured more photos and saw the beauty of the hike we missed in the 3:30am blackness. The European and his insanely long legs caught up to us and passed us yet again. For only a moment, I felt some saddness of not making it to the top, of not seeing the stairs for myself. He must have know my inside thoughts because he smiled and said the top wasn't even worth it, as the stairs we're virtually unrecognizable with the dense cloud coverage blocking the view. I smiled back as he passed us.

This adventure, which first started as the simple desire to walk down the illegal and abandoned stairs morphed into pushing all of us beyond our limits, at times our patients with three similar, independent and vocal women. The vacation evolved into a trip with fun memories of Meg and I trying and then failing at surfing, as a snowboarder, it was humbling as heck. Just the other day, we chatted about how fun it was to visit a fellow Northern BC friend, who just happened to also be visiting Hawaii. I am still surpried as Meg found another hike only a day or so after the Stairway to Heaven with three waterfalls that ended on the rim of a volcano, and pushed us to hike it. A bruse stained my ass for two weeks after I fell flat on my bottom at the beginning of this hike where we had to climb down the boulders and back into the rainforest. Of all the adventures throughout my life, this was one of my favorites.

Kirstin

Go wild for a while

Everything that scares you

"I'm going to say ready and you're going to bend your knees, hips out! And when I say huff you're going to jump!"

She was this energetic blond, a New York original turned Thai local, with a high ponytail who looked nowhere near strong enough to hold the security rope to act as my counterweight for if and when I let go and fall.

I nodded to her, because nine meters up, what else can you do, and as directed: hips out and knees bent, holding the surprisingly weighty bar forward as I teadered on the edge of a generous fall, I heard the words HUFF, leaped forwards and swung above the rope netting. I was flying.

I wanted to accomplish something completely out of my comfort zone. Perhaps it was to redeem myself? I'm still not sure why. I was able to get into a last minute trapeze class the day before we left the island of Koh Tao to move on to another country.

A few days prior, I was sitting in the small room with Mike, our newfound German friend, Philip, and our Italian scuba instructor, Marcos. My knees were quite literally shaking as Marcos discussed the four sicknesses that one could get from scuba diving (most of them with a relatively low survival rate). The key to not getting decompression sickness is to not assend too fast, and how to prevent yourself from getting the other four life threatening illnesses (which is essentially caused from your lungs exploding when you assened the ocean while holding your breath) is simple: Keep breathing. Deep inhale, deep exhale. Stay calm. Don't hold your breath. Relaaaaaax. Marcos said this in his rolling Italian accent. I could have laughed out loud. And I probably did. That was not me at all.

So, I put my buoyancy control device and air tank on, put my goggles over my face, inhaled into my respirator and when under water. Breathing under the water is surreal. It's hard. It goes against human law. Taking my goggles off and clearing them was difficult. It took everything to remain under the water in the pool for 30 minute increments. Every part of my being wanted to come up. But as the hand signals and requests from Marcos got harder, like taking my weights off, it distracted me from constantly obsessing over my breathing. I started to calm down. My heart stopped pounding so noticeably and I begun to enjoy the experience. I struggled hard with equalizing my ear pressure as we went deeper. Due to multiple snorkel outings and a bit of a cold, my ears couldn't handle it. Mike was insistent that my ears would have equalized if I went to the ocean, but I wasn't so sure since I struggled in the pool. I was worried they wouldn't equalize and I would hurt my ears.

And these are the hard things: I don't trust my institution anymore. I can't tell the difference between listening to my gut or wondering if it's simply anxiety taking over. This isn't the first time this has happened while traveling. The beautiful part about traveling is not only about what you learn in different parts of the world, but traveling forces you to deal with the hard parts of you, and worst parts of yourself. It pushes your comfort zone beyond anything you could imagine. Traveling Thailand has been beautiful and exhausting; traveling is amazing and horribly hard.

So, I completed half of the open water dive course: wrote the test, but when it came to diving in the ocean, it needed to be put on hold. I was heartbroke, and I'm pretty sure, so was Mike. We're headed to Indonesia [right now] where I can complete my dives and get certified (and I will), but I'm pretty disappointed in myself.

Mike fell in love with Koh Tao when he was here 3 years ago, when I first showed up on the 9 mile island back in 2016, it was full of white expats and young partiers, there was no culture, and so I had no interest in staying so I did a few hikes and hightailed it back to Chaing Mai. This time, Mike talked me into jumping onto a bike with him and driving around the island. It wasn't my first time riding with him, as we had a few trips in Hoi Hin, our first stop in Southern Thailand. But it took time for me to get comfortable jumping onto the back of Mike's bike and going 50k's an hour around the winding, old roads of Koh Tao. In Thailand, you're driving on the opposite side of the road. It was exhilarating and required all trust. He took me to his favorite snorkeling beach and with Thailand still recovering from the costs of COVID beaches were mostly quiet. It was nothing short of spectacular. The water was a beautiful blue and perfectly clear. It was like jumping onto a Lonely Planet Ocean episode. I kept expecting to hear David Atenburrow commentating on the angel fish swimming coupled up, or the swarms of fish - we saw a school of blue tuna with yellow speckles that were about a foot long each. Mike popped up from the water below and said they looked delicious. You could hear the multi coloured parrot fish crunch on corral to sustain themselves. I loved every moment every time we were in the water. And I am not a water person. Mike kept telling me how much I'd love diving, and I was completely on board. This added salt to the injury when I didn't get what we came to Thailand for: an open water dive ticket.

Traveling is amazing, but it's also incredibly hard and frustrating and stressful. I'm laughing, typing this as we just realized our hotel in Jakarta is a 1 hour, 45 minute drive from the airport. Like, what the hell do we even do with that?! But it's all relative, as for a few hours we were unsure if we can get into Indonesia as our COVID travel pass has yet to be approved. With some high emotions (our Thai via expires in two days) and a few calls to the Canadian embassy (who weren't all that forthcoming), we were reassured that would Should be find. I'll let you know when we land.

I needed remember who I was, and that my anxiety did not define me. I really love doing hard things that scare me. And I thought that as the butterflies came rushing into me as I swung on the trapeze. I listened to the instructor as she yelled legs up! And around! And my legs swung above my head and over the bar. I let go and suddenly it was only my legs holding me and everything else was in mid air. I rocked back and forth, the adrenaline ever growing and trusted the instructor, and let go of everything, when she yelled LET GO! And backflipped mid air, letting the net catch me.

Because anxiety or gut, despite forever struggling to tell them a part and always questioning my instinct. Regardless of why, fear is fear and when you're able to get passed it, the world and these adventures are amazing. And that makes all the scray moments absolutely worth it.

Kirstin

Getting lost will help you find yourself.

Fish Tails of Thailand

We escaped the steaming and screaming streets of Bangkok almost as soon as we landed, with a population of almost eleven million, it was sensory overload as soon as we left the airport. The 34 degree heat was amplified by the black pavement and this combined with street vendors and tuk-tuk drivers calling out for us to either go somewhere or eat something. And it all had my jetlegged brain spinning in circles. I smiled at myself and I thought, does it feel real yet?

It was something we asked each other as soon as Mike quit his job four weeks prior to me doing the same. I asked him this as our living room echoed with emptiness as we packed up everything that made our house a home: does it feel like we're actually going traveling, yet? We've been planing this for well over two years, it's impossible to believe it's actually happening.

He asked me the same question as we spent a few glorious days in Langley, as Mike initially mentioned wanting to spend time with his Grandpa MacLeod and his long time partner Geanie. I quickly agreed, wanting to know what what kind of a man shaped Mike into a MacLeod, and why he was so tied to this last name to begin with (forgive me, I've only ever met Reimer's - all Mike's Dad's side). He so insisted that this last name lives on and would be passed down, and curiously I wanted to know who could have this kind of impact on someone so bold as Mike. The few days we walked within the confines of the cedar rainforest throughout the city of Langley, and spent hours sipping absurdly strong coffee and then dipping into Grandpa MacLeod's home brewed beer while he talked of being in the Canadian Militarily, and he told  his tales of living in Germany, Egypt and, of course, Vanderhoof. It was fascinating hearing of this man's life and finally understanding where some of Mike's personality comes from. It was a fantastic and an easy last couple days in our country.

I was nervous about traveling as a pair. I was a solo girl, through and through; traveling alone is the most selfish I've ever been, as there's no compromising, you either meet travel soulmates and jive or you go in different directions. With Mike, conversations would have to be had on adventure lists and even the amount of time we would spend together. To be so blunt, there was a lot on the line, this six month stint would either ensure that were both committed for the long run or we would end up purchasing his and her houses, we often joked as we anticipate purchasing a second house when returning. We were also eager to move beyond the talks of the long traveling and continue on with our lives with other life changing adventures.

As always, Mike pushed me hard outside my comfort zone, and I pushed right back. We went catfishing for the day, where we were throwing back (no keepsies) 35lbs fish. It was an amazing time to be out of the bustling city of Chiang Mai and get back to basics. He was in his happy place and I was happily out of my element. We completed two hikes, one of which was the monk trail. It's a 5km hike that leads through a meditation retreat at a monk monestary and ends at Doi Suthep one of the highest parts of Northern Thailand. I've wanted to do if since the first trip in 2016, but never found the right partner or courage. I've never sweat so much or been so worn out from the sun.

Traveling with Mike has allowed me to let my guard down on so many levels. His easy going demeanor forced me to relax more on big decisions and not worry so much on the details like walking at night or venturing into empty back roads. In turn, he attended his first yoga class (as promised, no photos were taken) and has agreed to take one with me per country. These past two weeks boundaries have been crossed as Thai food only ends in two ways: constipation or ring of fire. But, also seeing the best of him, when I'm feeling unwell from a bacterial infection and so he does what needed done.

After a few days at my favorite Thai city where I had my fill of mountains and Pad Thai, as per Mike's longings we've packed up our backpacks and have headed to Southern Thailand in search of the ocean. Finally, it feels like we're traveling. It's been amazing.

Kindly,

Kirstin

Travel far enough that you meet yourself 

The Adventure Begins

 The constant hum of the engine calms my soul. After two years of talking and months of constant planning: finding, loosing and then finding solid tenants, quitting jobs and then surviving the long days of checking off the boxes on our ever growing to-do list: uninsuring cars, purchasing malaria medication - twice, returing long lost belongings, giving important documents to family who when tell us to contact them if we need anything, I promise them that we will, I exhale, sit back and sip my coffee while listening to Mike tell our story to the girl beside him:

Snowboarding in Smithers for a season, renovating our house to rent it out (twice), and he mentions the other trips (travel, hunting and fishing) we've taken together and alone. The girl laughs as she tells him it's our first long term travel experience together despite both going to Asia separately. I scroll through Facebook and see past photos of us hiking with Hugo in Smithers and Terrace three years ago, skydiving shortly after that and photos with siblings, friends and babies. The ups and downs in our life together have both been extreme and I wouldn't have it any other way.

And now we're doing it. We found the perfect attire and walked down the isle of the airplane. I'm sardined into the tiny tin can, a friendly reminder that we're still within Canada, begging the first leg of the trip where we will trave thought out south east Asia for six months (After three days of constant travel we Finally made it to our first destination!).

Mike turns around from the seat infront of me (cheap seats mean not always sitting together) where his eyes crinkle and he nods with his facemask on. How ya doing? He asks.

So good.

Kindly,

Kirstin

I'm going to make memories with you all over the world.

8

Unconditional Love

I believe he fell in love with me when I pulled this bitch, Maggie, off of him when we were walking around the field close to our house back when we lived in Calgary. The black and white collie pumbled into him and they rolled off the grass and onto the sidewalk. Hugo just laid there and took it...crying. I ripped her off of him and threw her to the side, and Hugo ran back to our house. He was mine after that, we both decided.

I adopted Hugo eleven years ago from the doggie day-care where his previous owner abandoned him, overweight and alone. Hugo growled at me the first time I saw him, bearing his teeth as he backed into a corner and I bribed him with Milkbown treats to get a closer view. I looked at my then-partner and said that I loved him and wanted to keep him. The next day Hugo effortlessly jumped into the back of my yellow Sunfire like it was somethign he'd always done and he became my rescue dog. Since then, Hugo has rescued me a thousand times over.

My love for Hawkins Cheesies is nothing  compared to Hugo's irrational addiction: two banana chocolate chip loaf, 3/4 of a spiral ham, 9 raw doe buns (1 thrown up and eaten again), all the pasta, all the meat, and pot cookies - twice. Two cups of butter when dog sitting, and many other things I've forgotten about, and failed to keep away as a good dog-mother should.

His people skills improved remarkably when Mike entered our life. As many people will tell you, Hugo is a good boy who feeds off of my own crazy and will protect me at any cost. Any. Cost. Like that time we were trying to rent our house out when Mike was away, Hugo laid on the window sil and growled at the applicants during the entire viewing.

Outside is my happy place, and exercise is what keeps my anxiety down, and Hugo joined me often. I trained for my very first half marathon with him, where he reluctantly ran on miles of pavement and dirt roads, keeping me both safe and sane. We've done many hikes together and he came with Mike and I on a few overnight hikes, despite his fear of fire and preference of being strictly an indoor dog. He followed me everywhere last May when I was feeling unwell and he had a habit of laying outside the bathroom, refusing to leave me and my thoughts alone. He went on countless walks those few months in May when my anxiety took over and broke my spirit and my body, despite his own body getting older and preference to car rides over trekking.

Hugo and I lived in many rentals and went through a few cars together. There were a few times I bitched about him,  but I loved having him by my side. New towns were less daunting when you were never really alone. Despite him not being nearly as contact-ey as me, I'm not sure I could ever find a better companion. He loved me when I needed it the most, and loved me when he shouldn't have; there's still guilt from leaving him to travel, despite him being in GramC's hands. Hugo's been the boy I've loved the longest, and has put up with many good-time loves, and has agreed to share me with my long-time love. He hates loud noises, like the sound of a dishwasher being emptied, and arguments between Mike and I. He'll tolerate carrots but his real love is chicken.

Throughout out this post I've jumped between past to present tense because it was the hardest decision I've ever made, to take him to the vet. I still feel like he's waiting for me, barking and excited, when I get home. Any doorbell that rings, at our house or another, I expect to hear Hugo's bark. I miss the feel of his fur, or when he lays beside me when I do yoga, I still save food for him on my plate.  But his life at fifteen was tiring on him, and in so many ways, as Mike explained, Hugo was telling us it was time. I sat in the backseat of the car, a place he was so familiar with, between adventures and house moves, as he growled at the veterinarian, as only Hugo would do up to the very end. Full of chicken, I held that dog, my love, until he was no longer mine.

As we drove to Charlie's, where Hugo was to rest, on the farm overlooking the river, I thought, Heaven can't possibly be merely about always doing good, but perhaps it's based on how much you were loved. As not at all a religious person, I do hope to god I see him again.

Kirstin

Everyone believes they have the best dog. They aren't wrong.