Naw'lins

Have you ever had no interest in going someplace, but still have to go see it?

That, for me, is New Orleans. Or more any place in the south. I grew up in the midwest, and so I hate humidity.. with a passion... almost as much as I hate being in hot humidity. Therefore, as much as I've wanted to see the Big Easy, I also never wanted to set aside time or money (that could be used elsewhere) to go and see it.
When my mom first proposed the trip to me, with her having a meeting at a hotel on Canal Street and cheap flights available for me to tag along... I said "no", because I didn't want to be taken away from all of the glorious El Nino snow in Colorado. However, as the date approached, Colorado had experienced nearly a week of 50 degree weather... blegh!

And now here I am, sitting in a cafe on Canal Street, soaking wet from walking about in the warm rain (something I don't get to experience much in Colorado). But now I'm sitting inside, watching the rain come down and enjoying the fresh smell it brings. Washing over the historical cobblestone sidewalks and making all of the plants on the balconies lift up their leaves, filled with life and color, like the brightly faded walls and window shutters surrounding them.

This place was definitely what I would consider a culture shock. I'm not really sure that it's essence can be described in words. The people, the architechture, the music, the food... it's all so... quirky. So intriguing. And, smelly.

We arrived on Saturday evening and decided to walk to Bourbon Street to see what all the hooplah was about. My mom had been here 20 years ago, so she had an idea of what it would be like. I start getting dressed... ripstop shorts that are three sizes too big, cinched in high on my waist and a white-thin button up shirt, tied tight just above my shorts, then Chacos. Naturally.

"Um... You may want to wear your boots," my mom says with a smirk on her face.

So I throw on my chunky Lowa trekking boots, knowing that my mom never leads me astray on these kinds of things.

We leave the hotel lobby and I'm busy looking up, soaking up the vibrant vibes on the streets. Within half of a block of leaving the hotel, I manage to step right in a pile of vomit.

"Ohhhh!" Several young men shout as I walk by... Hahahah I look to my mom and thank her for making me put on boots.

The rest of the evening was, by far, without a doubt, THE most disgusting evening I have ever experienced. The entire of Bourbon Street was packed with young, and old, people... all of which were beyond a level of drunk I have ever seen. Sloshing, shouting, boobs, butts, vomit, barefoot girls, piss... And these were all things that I saw in the gutter on the side of the street. Oh my word, the smell was unbelievable. Unimaginable. I felt as though I wanted a cigarette, simply to block out the smell. I have never smoked a cigarette in my life... and the fact that the smell of one in passing was a relief to my nose might give you a good idea of just how awful the stench was.

Granted, I still managed to get pretty buzzed myself, and that certainly helped with the general disgust I had towards the place. Mm. Those frozen margaritas are to die for.

After that evening, I decided that the day time would be more my thing... as is the case everywhere I go.

And it really was quite interesting! The day time crowd consisted mainly of Canadian tourists in their 50s. Shopping for trinkets and drinking Louisiana Lemonades, which, might I say, are quite tasty.

My mom and I walk to the Frenchman Market and ordered (adult) fruit smoothies for breakfast... shoot. A shot or two of rum in my pineapple smoothie is a little different than my usual choice of coffee.

This was a very different type of vacation for me. Drinking, walking through a city, taking photos of buildings and people, listening to live Jazz music, eating THE BEST comfort food I've ever gotten my hands on (yeah, I'm looking at you, you Creole seasoned shrimp and andouille sausage). Ugh. The thought of it still makes my mouth water.

Walking around the French Quarter was a cool experience, feeling like I was in a different country.. Like, I don't know.. France 'er something.

One evening I was asked out by a cute waiter to a local bar with gypsy/punk/country music playing. Talk about culture shock! What a cool local vibe. Dreadlocks, combat boots, face tattoos, handmade leather clothing, overalls... I felt like I had entered a Burning Man after party filled with transients and bayou folk. I didn't take any pictures, unfortunately. But let's just say that I certainly got a good taste of both the tourist portion and the local vibe during my stay in New Orleans.

Here's some more photos I took during my stay.

Have you been to New Orleans? What are your thoughts?

Happy trails!

Dai

Mayflower Gulch

We all have "those" places.

Those places we go when we are incredibly happy.
Those places we go when we are sad.
Those places that couldn't make you feel more alive.

Those places that make you breathe and remind you that the petty problems of your life are just that, petty.

I have a lot of favorite places in Colorado, and elsewhere. However, there is one spot that I always crave and always find myself coming back to when I need time to think, or maybe time to not think. And that, for me, is Mayflower Gulch.

Sitting just a few minutes drive from Copper Mountain, there is a parking lot just off the side of the highway. Rather unnoticeable, I actually didn't realize it was a trailhead the first few times I had driven past it. Then, one day, I decided to stop by and see what it was all about.

And that day was truly the day when I found that my love for Colorado was deeper-rooted than I had ever realized.

The hike to the base of the "amphitheater" takes less than an hour, and it is one of the less strenuous hikes in the Rockies that I've done. But good golly. This place is proof that you don't always need to hike miles on end to find amazing views. Not to mention, this place has little trials breaking away all over the place. I haven't even come close to exploring everything it has to offer.

I have come here countless times, now. Exploring the small mining cabin ruins that sit at the base of the ampitheater-shaped peaks. Snowshoeing through the quiet snow-covered trail... and maybe even post-holing a large portion of the way up, before deciding that snowshoes were worth the purchase. I've sat in the sun, and jumped around on rocks. I've gone and made videos and taken pictures. I've gone and not taken any pictures. I've hiked tuna-packet picnics to the top and shared them with Trev dawg. I've cross-country skied back here, and maybe even wiped out pretty good (who knew that was even possible on XC skis?!).

No matter what I do in this magical place, I always... always leave feeling cleansed of the stressors of everyday life.
This place reminds me that God is good, and that life is so much more than just surviving.
This place reminds me that life is for living.
...for breathing.
...for exhaling the bad, and inhaling the good.
...for sharing these moments with others, and for enjoying the solitude.

I have been here more times than I can count, and it will always be one of my favorite places in the whole wide world... winter, spring, summer, or fall.

So much so, that I'm always hesitant to share it with people who do not already know about it.
But, when it comes down to it, I enjoy hearing friends and acquaintances tell me about how much they loved the place. Sharing is caring. So next time you've got the time, swing by Mayflower Gulch and feel all of your worries just slip away...

Google Map of Mayflower Gulch

I'm Single. I'm Female. & I'm Backpacking.

I love the state of Colorado. So much. The people here are always so inspiring and motivating. The fact that I am a young female solo backpacker is not anything new here. There are so many badass women in this state that I get heart-eyes for whenever I see them in action.

Even though this is nothing new for many women, it is incredibly new for me! So, here I am, writing about it.

Now, when I say I'm "all alone", I am including the company of my pup, Trevor. A two-year old German Shepherd with a bark as big as his bite (which luckily, the bite part has never been needed)... and even though he certainly thinks he's a human (and I treat him like he is one), I will not consider him a human when telling this story. Haha.

   Now, I generally despise the fact that our society is separated by something as silly as gender. I also generally try not to let my gender or the gender roles placed on both males and females affect me.

                 However, it is inevitable. 

Until the rest of the world doesn't treat women different from men, I will continuously have to take into account the fact that I am, indeed, a woman. And that fact instantly puts me in a greater risk of encountering dangerous situations. Many of my male friends never even realized the added dangers in women's day-to-day lives until I pointed it out to them... It's so unfortunate that this is the case for half of the population, but it is true.

Okay! Now that my little feminist rant is out of the way... let's get back to the story at hand...

Being a woman in the wild is an absolute rush.

                               A rush of adrenaline, fear, and empowerment! 

(Yes, I admit it, it can be really quite scary at times. But nowhere near as scary as being a solo woman in a big city.)

It all started with me constantly finding different ways to empower myself... I have been on several extended solo road trips (again, when I say "solo" I am usually with my pup). I have hiked countless trails solo. I have gone to concerts and bars and parties solo (not including Trevor).
The gist of this paragraph is...
            I thoroughly enjoy being alone.

But backpacking in a high-alpine environment... well that's the most isolated solo adventure that I have ever been on (so far...).

I packed up the morning of...

38lbs of clothing, bedding, shelter, water, food, camp stove, contacts, first aid, hats, maps, and knives. Oh and socks, I put a very large emphasis on extra socks when packing. It's just one of those things I do.

I packed up about 10lbs in Trevor's pack. Yes, he has a pack, and it's the cutest thing ever. Dog food, poop bags, water.

Trevor is ready! I'm ready! Directions are printed... Let's do this.

We went to the Missouri Pass & Fancy Pass Loop in the Holy Cross Wilderness (near Red Cliff, CO). A loop that is only roughly 9 miles total, I was feeling confident in may ability to absolutely OWN this little trek. Just one night, so roughly 4.5 miles each day. After all, I had done day-hikes and backpacking trips that were significantlyyyy longer than that.
About 1.5hrs of highway driving and nearly an hour of dirt road driving, we were finally at the trailhead and the stoke was so high I was nearly bouncing around the van getting us prepped for takeoff.

It was a busy trailhead and I was asked several times if I'm packing in all alone, and that's where my solo female instincts kick in. I was very vague in my answers on my situation and my plan. But anyway! We're off! The trail was pretty much uphill the entire time, seeing as we started at the bottom of a mountain and were trying to make it to the lakes in the upper basins for camping that evening.

Ah the first day was a breeze! Only faintly sore legs by the time we reached out perfect camp spot, nestled in a low-lying grassy knoll between groves of trees in hopes to avoid some of the wind that can blow real hard in these high altitudes.

Time to make me some hot cocoa and dinner! I find the perfect flat spot right near the lake and set up my campstove and go for my lighter/matches... only to find out that they are both nonexistent.

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

(I learned the triple-shit from my grandma, the only time she ever swears, she always says shit and she always says it three times real fast.)

So there I am, with 2 out of my 4 meals requiring boiling water in order to be eaten.
"Okay. Okay. Dontcha worry there, Dailyn. It's only 5 miles back to the car tomorrow. So just eat one of your clif bars and a bit of mango jerky" (dried mango, it just reminds me of jerky).

Trevor cuddles me to sleep and all is well.

Until about midnight, when the winds pick up to an unavoidable level and I cannot keep warm for the life of me and trevor decides he simply does not want to cuddle with me anymore. Teeth-chattering, leg-shivering, tent blowing around violently... It was incredibly cold and I got very minimal amounts of sleep. I woke up in the morning and sat in the rising sun, watching it illuminate the towering, rocky mountain on the other side of the lake. Despite my rough night of sleep, it was by far, one of the most glorious feelings I've ever had. Solitude, sunrise, mountains, my dog... the only way it would have been better is if I had a campstove with the ability to warm me up some coffee and oatmeal. Oh well! Water and another clif bar for breakfast! (I was thanking myself for packing a couple of extra clif bars...).

Alrighty! Pack up camp and head on out while it's still chilly out...

I have two mountain passes ahead of me today! Missouri Pass first, then Fancy Pass...
Missouri Pass was certainly a bit of a bitch. Gaining about 500ft in about half a mile, it certainly got my ass in gear (haha). I reached the top and was welcomed with the most breathtaking sight. A lake-filled basin that I had just camped in on one side of me and a mountain range for a far as the eye could see on the other side of me with a wildflower-filled valley at the base of it.

Missouri Pass - Looking down on the valley we camped in.

I take off my pack, change into some cooler clothes and continue down the pass, which was steep enough to get my bad knee feeling all achy and enflamed. I walk about halfway between Missouri Pass and Fancy Pass when I decide I need another meal bar, cause that breakfast just didn't quite cut it. I start to go through my pack to find my phone and take a photo and it's NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

I knew exactly where it was... at the TOP of Missouri Pass, where I had changed my clothes.
Again...

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

"Not at the tooooopppppp!!" I literally shout out loud.

Well, there's no way I'm leaving my iPhone up there for someone else to find... "Alright Trev, let's do this... again..."

1. Smack forehead
2. Hike back up the mountain
3. Find phone
4. Do happy dance
5. Hike back down the mountain

I reach the next mountain pass, Fancy Pass and I see the trail going up the mountainside and say out loud, "You've got to be shitting me." Straight up the side of the gray rocky mountain. And if you've ever had a tweaked knee or exercise-induced bronchospasms, then you know that switchbacks can be your best friend. No switchbacks... I almost considered turning around... again. But I continued on, mostly because I had to see what was on the other side of that mountain... So here I go, cussing under my breath, squealing back at the Marmots who are getting protective of their rocks, and asking Trevor to "waaaaiiiit for meeeeee."

I finally get to the top and the angry winds nearly took my new Patagonia hat from me, "Oh no you don't, you son of a biiiihh!"

Fancy Pass

I start hiking down the other side and lose the trail cause it's nothing but loose, jagged rock and old mining ruins. I find the trail again and have to walk on wet, slick snow and tweak my knee about two more times. Finally! I get to a grassy, forested, lake area and throw off my pack and lay on a giant log and try not to think about my knee or ankle or aching feet or sunburned shoulders... "How the hell could the past 3 miles take that much out of me?! Oh wait... I hiked an extra mountain pass with the whole phone fiasco... I guess I feel a little less weak, now... Time to power up! Food!" Oh, I don't have much food left. A light bar, a bit of dried fruit, and a coupl'a short slim jims.
"Okay, no worries! If I calculated correctly, you only have a little over a mile left..."

Bullshit, I say. That felt like 3 miles. I finally get going again and each foot breaks out into blisters. I'm so hungry. My knee hurts.

Oh and in my exhaustion, I got caught by an old couple with my pants down cause I didn't feel like hiking far enough off trail.

I finally get back to the van and thank myself for always keeping some cans of food and crackers under the bed. I stuff my face, despite the odd looks and start my drive home... only to pull out in a spot near the river and sleep in the back, cuddling with trevor with all the van doors open until a caravan of Jeeps blew unreal amounts of dust on the van, waking me up in a coughing fit.

Now this story may sound unpleasant, and don't get me wrong, it kind of was...
But! At the same time, it was, by far, one of the best trips of my life. It was short and tough and I've never felt so empowered or at peace with myself.

I can't wait to embark on more adventures like this in the near future and make them longer and better and hopefully have some matches...

Happy trekking!

                                 - Dai