Hitch #4: A day in the life; The conundrum of peeing; Eating, Praying, and Loving...

(Me playing in a new culvert... like a mini bridge)

Eating, praying, and loving… but mostly eating…

Upon leaving graduate school and moving to the woods, one of my beloved professors told me this: “If you need your eat, pray love moment, go for it.” For those of you unfamiliar with the popular book and movie, I would recommend reading or watching it (especially if you love to travel or eat!). I find it inspirationally tragic and hopeful – a story savored and devoured by my young, ever-searching, always- confused soul. My 6 month experience in Montana has been mostly praying – praying to keep bears away, praying in storms, etc. I’ve loved a bit here as well – love for my crewmates and roommates, love for the beauty of the mountains, but I’ve sent most of my love home to family and friends.

But eating… The benefit of doing manual labor for 10 hours a day is the unmitigated freedom of food. Mind you, food has always been a delight for me, and dieting has never been on my list of activities, but when I return from 20 days in the wilderness, I celebrate my metabolism (and tastebuds!) more than ever before. There is a café near my apartment that fulfills my indulgences… muffins, cookies, cakes… Carrot cake. Oh my. It must be one of my kindred spirits, for I feel heavenly each time I eat it. If marriage ever comes my way, a carrot cake wedding cake is all I need for a magical event (a groom may help too, I suppose!).

I also discovered that my oven is, in fact, broken! Which means that I am not a terrible cook. It also means that I have been baking at home in addition to eating out. Chocolate-mocha cake has been my personal favorite, yum! I fear when this program is over, I will continue this wonderfully tragic eating pattern. Please mind your step as you see me rolling down the sidewalk in November in desperate search for more carrot cake…

A Day in the Life

My alarm beeps at 6:15, I put my cold carhartts on, my smelly Americorps shirt, and all the layers I can reach, then shiver my way to breakfast consisting usually of bread with nutella or an oatmeal packet and a mug of hot cocoa, then brush teeth, re-hang the bearhangs, fill 4 liters of water bottles with filtered creek water, then jump into our morning stretch circle at 7:15am. Then we hike… hike… hike… most recently we’ve been working just over 2 miles from camp – quite the commute. I really can’t believe I’ve been hiking 4 miles daily plus hours of manual labor in a day… it’s like nothing these days.

Work, for me, mostly consists of using a pick and a shovel to widen and smooth the trail. We also clean-up after the chain saws (only our leaders are chainsaw certified, which is okay with me!). Our aim is to have 3ft on each side of the trail cleared of trees, branches, etc. It’s strange cutting things down… when in a conservation corps we should be conserving? Slightly oxymoronic.

We just entered a wet part of the trail – creeks everywhere! Which is exciting because we get to build bridges (Photo: me doing bridge-pose on one of our bridges) – it’s much more technical and skilled labor and quite refreshing after hours of monotonous pick-swinging.

At the end of the day, upon returning to camp, I usually just take off my boots, throw on some sandals, and help make dinner. We are usually in our tents by 8:30pm. I try desperately to write in my journal and read a little before I fall asleep after the long day. I’m usually out by 9:30, but I wake up several times a night – noises scare me constantly and I usually have to use nature’s restroom…

The Conundrum of Peeing at Night

Apologies for the vulgarity of this title, but I have avoided writing this story long enough. Since my first night in a tent in Montana, I have been entertained by this topic. When on the road, I find myself relieved when either the vehicle has terrible gas mileage, or there is a small child traveling along. Why? Well, I often need to stop at the ladies room. Often. So, the conundrum of peeing at night is that it inevitably happens to me each and every night. I seem to be an anomaly.

So, each and every night I wake up in the deep, dark woods of Idaho, uncinch my sleeping bag, wriggle my way out, reach around for my always-lost glasses, fumble with my headlamp, unzip my tent, slip on some sandals, and proceed to stumble and trample away from my tent (about 20-30 ft as this is known to attracts animals – yikes!). Everywhere I look there is an ominous shadow, which I swear just moved. Totally freaked, I switch off my headlamp, and in squatting position discover why this continues to be a conundrum…

Like a moth to the flame, my eyes lift to the heavens and I stare breathlessly at the magnificent sight of glittering stars. I am planted to that spot, all of my worries and fears have gone. All I can do is watch the stars. This reaction may seem a little dramatic, but for most of my life I have lived in areas without many stars. And for these twenty-some years, I have loved the small handful of stars visible from the suburbs.

I know nothing of constellations or telescopes. I got a B- in Astronomy. But, I know a little something of being humbled by greatness. I have walked silently through grand cathedrals in Europe built without modern technology. I repeatedly stand in the shadow of history in stories I read of men and women that have shaped the world through small, seemingly insignificant actions. Feeling small… it is a feeling I have come to embrace, as that is what I am, what we all are.Just a girl, peeing in the woods, under a blanket of sparking infinity. So while it my be an inconvenience, it is an inconvenience I don't mind having.

One hitch left! <3julie