Take Me Home, Country Roads

Big Life Update: Ya girl’s in Canada! 

But first, a brief (not really) summary of the 3,400 miles from New York to Vancouver. 

Per my previous post, I am not a sport climber. In case you missed it, I’m a big ‘fraidy-cat and my giant biceps go limp as soon as I’m more than 20 feet off the ground. That said, I’m starting to realize how a good climbing partner can make all the difference. 

Of my New York Climbing Goons, there is really only one person who has any kind of psych for sport, and that is Nikhil. It’s my own fault, really. The end of last summer saw the opportunity for a sport climbing trip to Rumney, NH; and I, sick of climbing the same boulder in Central Park for the past 3 months (#justpandemicthings), convinced Nikhil that sport climbing was “fine” and “no big deal” and “super fun.” So we drove to Long Island to find the only climbing gym offering lead classes within a 2 hour radius of Manhattan, and showed Nikhil the ropes. Now all Nikhil wants to do is sport climb and I’ve been stuck in this bed I have made for myself. 

Photo cred: Leah Gussoff

Due to some serendipitous timing, flexible work schedules (or no work schedule at all, on my part), and a few very accommodating romantic partners (thank you, Katherine and Jamie), Rope Gun Nikhil was able to join me for the western half of my cross-country trek to Vancouver. 

We stopped in Estes Park, Colorado, for a casual ascent (read: the most not-casual thing I’ve ever done in my entire life) of Hallet Peak--a 7-pitch, 1,000 foot alpine summit in the Rocky Mountains. Think: 3:30AM wake up to hike through 3 hours (AKA endless) of snow, ice, talus, and scree, just to make it to the base of the wall; then 8.5 hours of terrifying climbing (one million shouts out to Jake, our fearless (fearless???) leader) and another 3 hours of rappelling and hiking to get back down to the car. Modern-day philosopher, Kelly Clarkson, once mused, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Surely, no truer words have been uttered. 

Next, we made our way to Ten Sleep, which is a tiny (population: 206) cowtown in northern Wyoming and home to an enormous limestone canyon. I don’t want to sound all new-age-hippie-livin’-in-her-van or anything, but there's something about Ten Sleep that feels like magic. We camped at the local brewery and had too many beers and danced under the stars (incidents which may or may not be related) and SENT OUR FIRST 11b and I didn’t even feel scared. If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is. 

Thank you, Nikhil, for all the hot goss, beers, and catches. You've shared the road with me, forced me out of my comfort zone, and slept on the ground in the name of advanture. Jamie’s got big shoes (like size 12? 13?) to fill as my new climbing partner. Here’s to many more adventures together (but maybe with more comfortable sleeping arrangements). I'll always lead as long as you're on the other end of the rope.

I have now officially traded one #vanlife for another, and am writing from an actual apartment with an easily accessible toilet and a bed (no bed frame yet but we’ll get there) in Vancouver, BC with my main squeeze (finally). I’ll spend the next 10 days in quarantine getting to know my new space extremely well and dreaming about all the furniture we will eventually own (but still probably not showering very often, you know me). 

I’m not sure what direction the blog will take as I won’t really be travelling much (and is my life even bloggable sans-van??), but I’ve got some things in mind that I might try to pursue. We'll see where things go on the back-half of 2021--keep a weather-eye on your inboxes for future updates!

XOXO