Grieving with a Backpack On

The inevitable is happening – turning sixty is only a few years away, so what better time to experience a new adventure? When my children were young, my husband, Matt, often took them backpacking, teaching them about his lifelong passion. I, on the other hand, had no interest whatsoever to carry a pack on my back. But since birthdays seemingly arrive faster and getting older is a sure thing, I was inspired to try something new. When the summer of 2017 came around, I told him I was ready to wear that pack and leave my footprints on the trail. I had enjoyed listening to my family’s tales of their past trips, but now I longed to be the narrator of my own stories.

Their trips were weekend get-a-ways, and although Matt had gone on two 50-milers in the past, these short outings were a subtle way of introducing backpacking to his family and much more manageable for his family. And so, my first trip was on a weekend in July, backpacking in Point Reyes not far from home. After pulling into the parking lot on a Friday afternoon, we “suited up” and I almost toppled over, feeling a bit like Lucille Ball in one of her slapstick scenes – although I managed to find balance eventually. 

When we found the trailhead, I had to document this new beginning with some photos, then we were on our way. The trail was fairly easy with a few minor inclines and dips. I tried to enjoy the scenery, but I was fixated on each step in my what-felt-like “moon” boots. The bulkiness took some getting used to, but it was humbling to carry everything I needed on my back. After just over an hour, we arrived at Coast Camp, sweaty and slightly dirty. Our site was nothing fancy, but it came with a picnic table which proved to be convenient. We set up the tent and made our wilderness bedroom as comfortable as possible. The trip was off to a great start…

We hiked around local trails, reveling in the beauty of the wildflowers – shades of yellows, reds, pinks, and purples – while the bees serenaded. We trekked down to the beach a few times where the temperature had dropped and the wind lost its temper. The ocean inhaled then exhaled, greeting us with a palpable roughness as if to say, “Don’t you dare come in.” We wouldn’t dare, but the sight was beautiful just the same. After trekking back to our campsite, we had a reaffirmed respect for the ocean.

Our dinners were convenient consisting of freeze-dried backpacking food such as beef stroganoff and chicken and dumplings. Occasionally, we indulged in our favorite desserts – raspberry crumble or apple crisp. All we had to do for hot meal preparation was heat water, pour, stir, wait a few minutes, and dinner was ready. In the morning when the sun rose, we had oatmeal and that cup of coffee, which hit the spot. Fruit, cheese, nuts, and sometimes, a little salami and crackers served as lunch. We definitely did not lack in nutrition or hunger.

We appreciated moments of sitting together in silence, reading, enjoying nature’s entertainment, or watching other hikers pass by. Everyone offered a familiar wave as though we were all members of the same backpacking club out for a weekend. Other than an unexpected allergy attack, the trip was a success. When Sunday morning arrived, knowing it was time to pack up and leave, I was sad that this amazing experience was coming to an end, yet I was eager for a hot shower. The drive home was picturesque on the quiet country roads with only the cows lifting their heads to see us as we drove by. We drifted into silence, absorbing the wonderful adventure we had together. A few days later, we jumped into the planning stages for our next adventure to Shealor Lakes in the Sierra for the following month.

Sometimes though, plans do not always work out. Soon after our July trip, my dad’s health suddenly weakened. He began having heart trouble, which initiated a much-needed hospital visit. Dad was ninety-seven years old, but surprisingly, he had never suffered through any major health issues. My family had no reason to believe he would not get the chance to blow out ninety-eight candles in two months. The only pain we knew he felt was missing Mom – his wife of sixty-seven years who had passed away five years prior. Dad was poked, prodded, and x-rayed, and after only three days in the hospital, he peacefully passed away.

It was all so strange – losing my dad, and at the same time having planned the trip. After talking to my sisters, they encouraged us to stick with our original plans. “It’s what Dad would want,” they said. I was unsure, but after much thought, we took my sisters’ advice. Yet, the slight guilt of going while it was all so fresh could not be ignored. If Dad was still in the hospital, I would have stayed, but he was at peace now, no longer suffering. In some otherworldly way, I felt his approval.

We began our four-hour drive a few days after Dad’s passing. After arriving, we unloaded our stuff and “suited up” just like on our first trip. While we prepared and packed, as well as on the drive, Matt repeated to me, “It’s only a mile and a half to the lake!” What he failed to mention was that the hike entailed an ascent over a huge granite dome. I stared at the dome that I was about to embark on and became anxious because I did not feel physically prepared. But Matt’s confidence in my ability was apparent, so we began the uphill hike. What was I going to do, back out now?

After hiking for forty-five minutes, we reached the top, and when I looked down that sleek granite dome, I was amazed at what I had achieved. Never underestimate our abilities. On the other side, Shealor Lake was in full view. We gave our legs a short rest, quenched our thirst and souls with water that tasted better than ever, then headed downhill with the enticing pull of the lake’s beauty. As we neared the bottom, my emotions ran wild. I felt relieved that we finally made it, but a sudden wave of grief washed over me. We removed our packs and rested on a nearby log. I was so overwhelmed that I did not fight the tears. I let them roll down my cheeks with purpose. I cried for the loss of Dad and I cried for having completed this hike that I did not think I was capable of. I would have wiggled out graciously had I known the details much earlier.

Once the last tear had fallen, I composed myself and looked to the lake. The water was a jeweled phenomenon. It sparkled, inviting us for a swim. While we set up our back-country camp, the orange-hot sun blazed down on us as if we had drastically turned up the thermostat, so the cool lake water soothed our sun-kissed skin. The fact that we were all alone in this canyon full of forest and smooth granite was beyond welcoming. The tranquility offered me the chance to reminisce about Dad and my parents together. The solitude afforded a perfect destination to grieve, think, remember, and cry. Mourning the loss of one parent was difficult enough, but losing both felt surreal – a new stage of life had begun.

This Sierra adventure provided a chance for hiking and granite-rock hopping. The sun was our alarm clock, bidding us good morning and night as it rose and faded behind the hills. In the evenings, we sat mesmerized by the campfire’s dancing flames and were enchanted by the dark, star-sprinkled sky. No matter where we explored, magic wrapped us in its warm embrace. This trip challenged my mind, body, and soul. I gained insight into my deepest being, learning not to limit myself. This amazing destination and experience proved to be the best medicine.

I approached that summer with enthusiasm for a new adventure to backpack and I am proud of my ascent over the granite dome. I often wonder if my grieving process would have been more difficult had I not agreed to go on the second trip. I will never know, but I believe I made the right choice at a time when my life unfortunately shifted in a hard-to-process direction. I thanked my sisters for encouraging us to go; their intuition knew it would be the right thing to do. Now, I can honestly say that my footprints are embedded in Point Reyes and the Sierra, and I am grateful to finally be my own narrator. I know Dad would be proud and I can not wait for a new story to emerge on the horizon.

Lauren Scott (c) 2020

 

 

 

Celebrating 8 years with WordPress!🎉

Image result for tea and blogging imagesWordPress tells me that it’s been 8 years since I embarked on this blogging journey. As most of you know, I created this blog around my 50th birthday after encouragement from my son (then 15 years old). Becoming a blogger never entered my mind, so it was similar to taking a step into a whole new world.

Let me tell you that it’s been such a wonderful experience, and although it’s been 8 years since inception, I didn’t become truly active until the following year. But who’s counting, right? This virtual adventure has been a “cup runneth over” experience between meeting people from all over the world, making new lovely friends, exploring art in every form, learning new styles of poetry, having the ability to share my writing, and then, of course, to receive the abundance of support throughout the years.

So, will you celebrate with me? I’d love it if you would because the more, the merrier!

And below I’m including a poem I wrote a few years back about this amazing experience…

Connections

I pondered long and hard for the answer
wondering, wavering of emotions inside
How relative time has been in this journey
this crazy, happy, emotional ride

The voices unheard, yet heard of so clearly
in universal languages for all to hear
The faces unseen, yet seen in tiny glimpses
of those who opened their windows for air

How thoughtful the praise each time I read
How warm my hopeful heart became
How humble it felt from deep within
How grateful my soul will surely remain

Lauren Scott 2015

SO HERE’S A BIG THANKS TO YOU ALL FOR YOUR LOVE, FRIENDSHIP, SUPPORT, AND ENCOURAGEMENT OVER THE YEARS!

Image result for thank you

And the journey continues…

Love, Lauren ❤❤❤
Image credit: Google

 

Young Minds

IMG_3938

Their imaginations carried them
into the African Savannah
keeping watch for a parade
of animals on the hunt
They chose not to be prey
if avoiding such demise
was possible –
Suddenly, their feet stopped
in their tracks,
as fear crept up the backs
of their necks –
A thunder-booming growl
echoed throughout the grassland
The next move meant life or death
Then a meow joined the growl
Terror escalated
as they held their breath,
mirroring an owl’s innate ability,
afraid to make a sound
Then when Mom yelled,
“Lunch is ready,”
fear subsided and
their adventure came
to an abrupt halt –
until next time
when their imaginings
became alive again

 

Lauren Scott © 2018
(When we arrived at our campsite,
we noticed some visitors.
So I became inspired right away. 🙂 )

 

 

Here’s the Scoop…

Dear Friends,

As most of you know, I took a three month break from blogging, and I have recently returned. I missed it, and I missed seeing all of you who have faithfully followed and supported me. I’ve taken many breaks throughout the past five years, so please know that I’m not crazy…But I have to be honest with myself in realizing that blogging just isn’t in me anymore. I’ve started slowly with college (which I snubbed soon after high school), but I’ll begin to take more classes each semester to finish earlier-or at least before I’m too old to walk across the stage-and if I do this, blogging won’t have a time slot. Honestly, writing poems is still on the back burner, but my next English class will involve creative writing and poetry, which might help stir up some inspiration.

So…I’m going to keep my blog open (for now), but I won’t be continuing to interact in the blog world. For five years, this blog has been a big part of my life, but I feel that part has run its course, and now a new chapter is evolving. I guess I won’t say that I’ll “never” return, but for now, it looks unlikely. I’m excited about my college journey, even in mid life, and I have officially decided to pursue an Associates Degree in English, and who knows, I may even go for a Bachelor’s! You’re never too old, right?

Anyway, that’s it, my honest feelings. I tried and gave it another shot, thinking that I would jump right back in like before, but things are different now. I’ve changed and so has life. I sincerely wish you all the best, and I’ll miss you.
So…Stay Safe, and Be Happy!

With Love, Hugs, and Blessings,
Lauren ♥