Paradise Living

Just a few reasons I love being in Florida - Sanibel Island, Indian Rocks Beach, Clearwater Beach, and Caladesi Island all in two weeks! It's always so hard to leave. Thank you to all my loved ones who took the time out of their busy schedules to hang with Gman and me! I love you dearly. 

I can't wait to share my Florida experiences with you soon. But first, I'm off to explore the American South. Have a great week!

Weekend Recap: Magazine Launch Party

Last Saturday night I hosted a launch party in celebration of my magazine. I decided to host the party at my own home to go along with the theme of "Exploring Home". What does home me to me? Being able to share my private garden with family and friends.

My mom and two of her sisters were in town for Easter weekend and since one of them was a contributor for the magazine, I thought it would be lovely to have the party with them here. Luckily most of the flowers in the garden were in bloom (except the Cherry Blossom! boo) so I only needed to add a few bouquets to round out the decorating. Flowers are always my indulgence when entertaining! Even if I just have overnight guests, I love the excuse to bring some color and freshness to my home.

The party was a grand success - wine flowed like water, great conversations were had with old friends and new, and I felt so special! Towards the end of the party, people were purchasing the magazine and asking me to sign it for them. I've never done something like that before and I felt like I really made it in the world! I was slightly embarrassed to do it, but so happy that I could take a chance on a new venture and have such dedicated support from my friends and family. You all give me the courage to do it again! Cheers!

I also want to give a special shout out to my friend Liz Nunziato. I had this whole toast prepared, but my mind went blank when I went to speak. Liz is one of my dearest friends and a very talented graphic designer and artist. I call her sensei as she taught me how to use InDesign and gave me a crash course in the graphic design and publishing worlds. I literally could not have done this magazine without her guidance and hard work taking my ideas and making them a reality.

PS - Order a copy of Issue One: Exploring Home here.

my family!

my beautiful friends

A Yearly Recap and a Happy New Year!

Its time, yet again, to sit down with a glass of champagne and look back on the year. There have been many great travels – Savannah, New York City, Clearwater Beach, Denver, Winter Park, Scottsdale, Sedona, San Francisco, Napa Valley (story to come), Buenos Aires (story to come), and Las Vegas. Gman and I went to our first trip to an amusement park together, too! Time spent in-between trips was busy hosting many out of town visitors and exploring Washington, D.C. I also went to my ten year high school reunion! We had some guest poetry here on the blog from the talented Kate Lindblom. I’ve learned a lot about wine and art, and continued to develop my personal style (thanks to Pinterest!).

This year has been met with many growing pains as I ventured out on my own, attempting to make long-standing career fantasies a reality. From starting my freelance writing career to the process of expanding High Heeled Traveler to a print magazine, to learning more about photography and design. Many hours have been spent productively learning and some to crying from exhaustion. I would have never taken the leap(s) without the whole-hearted encouragement from Gman, family, and friends. To them (you!) I owe many thanks.

Finally, I feel very blessed to have met so many new and dear friends this year through blogging. More than anything else I’ve done, blogging has provided an instant network of like-minded, ambitious, and stylish men and women with whom I can collaborate and build friendships with. I hope to continue to have the pleasure of being your friend in the New Year!

I’m looking forward to what 2013 will bring. I am expecting to drink lots of wine, have lots of laughs, and continue to challenge myself and push the boundaries of my comfort zone. I wish the same to you!

Cheers to all! Happy New Year!

Weekend Recap: a reunion

I’m not really one to reminisce. I don’t have a fabulous memory. Although remembering the past can lead to belly-laughing story telling and pure joy, one also runs the risk of opening the door to regret and heartbreak. So I like to live in the moment. I like to try and be completely present and just keep moving forward.

This proved difficult this past weekend. I went back to my hometown for my ten-year high school reunion. I wasn’t nervous about it. The event was slapped together at the last minute, hosted at a popular local marina with a bar right on the water. With such a causal approach, how could I feel worried about reconnecting with people who saw me through my youth?

I spent little time concerned about who would be there and who wouldn’t. I thought many of my friends, my “group,” would come because I thought everyone went to their reunion. That’s why I went.

I showed up right on time with one of my best friends, Kate, who not only went to high school with me, but became my college roommate, my confident, and your favorite High Heeled Traveler poet. But being there felt awkward. I felt the insecurities of my adolescence creeping into my stomach. I got a beer and we chatted with a very nice girl that I remember having classes with. The crowd grew and a not so talented band started playing songs that were popular when we were in high school. No one really mingled and I couldn’t put names with faces. People found a spot to sit, ate the chicken fingers from the buffet, and only talked to the people from their previously defined social circles. After panicking that perhaps I was in the wrong place, I did find a few lovely people I was glad to see in person that I already reconnected with on facebook.

Just as I was thinking it was time to wrap it up, two people walked onto the patio - two people who I spent almost every waking hour with for four years of high school and whom I’ve known since I was a child. I haven’t really spoken to them since the day we graduated high school with a bittersweet separation, each of us moving on to find our futures and ourselves. I thought it might be hard to pick up the pieces but with people like this you just pick up where you left off. As the party wound down, we decided to go to another bar where Kate and I’s college friends were waiting.

When we arrived, a band was playing some sort of swing, country, rock combo. A middle-aged woman with wild hair and no shoes danced around me and couples swung to the beat. I stood there quietly sipping my beer, watching my worlds collide, as my college friends and high school friends divulged my secrets to each other over the music. Everyone was having a great time together and I thought, perhaps reminiscing isn’t so bad when, in a moment, my bittersweet past became part of my very joy-filled future.

Weekend Recap: Game Day

No fall would be officially complete without spending every Saturday watching college football. As you may know, I'm a huge University of Florida Gator fan. My grandfather went there and I believe when I was a baby I had a mobile in my cradle that played the fight song. I love game day so much that I think about it year round and get all teary and nostalgic when I see people tailgating. I have a lucky coozie, and several t-shirts that I wear only for the occasion. So If you don't see me around town or on twitter, its because I'm in the zone watching the game.

Here is my post about Game Day in Gainesville, what to wear as a professional fan, and a link to my Gatorific pinterest board, co-curated with the fabulous Tammy of A Loyal Love, just in case you are looking for some inspiration or to convert to the best team in the SEC and in the universe. ;)

Do you watch college football?

Weekend Recap: Family Day at the CIA

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending Family Day at the CIA headquarters in Langley, VA. I was mostly excited to go because I heard they had a few fine art exhibits and a very nice spy museum. It's hard to narrow down our visit to a single highlight, but it was really special to walk in the main entrance and see the famous seal on the floor.

Fantastic programing, special exhibits, and lectures were set up throughout the day and every hallway was jam packed full of people. Families with children especially had a great time practicing their spy skills, getting their face painted, and eating lots of free candy.

I was impressed with the architecture of new building (NHB) (and generally how perfectly clean and well maintained the facilities were) with beautiful inlaid pink and white marble floors, and floor to ceiling windows that flooded every space with fresh sunlight. It seemed like a really nice place to work! The cafeteria was also impressive. I know, my priorities revolve around food. They had a Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks, Subway, Burger King, in addition they also had a fresh salad bar, soups, pizza, cold cuts, and a hot food bar. It was better than a mall food court.

I heard that the CIA owned a contemporary art collection similar to the Corcoran Gallery of Art's so I was very curious to check it out (I was quite possibly the only person there looking for contemporary art instead of spy gear). I was expecting an art exhibit, but the painting were spread out on the walls of the corridors. I recognized a painting by Gene Davis as well as a few others from the Washington Color School. I later learned that the paintings were either donated or loaned to the CIA from a former Director of the Corcoran Gallery of Art, Vincent Melzac, and the collection is called the Melzac Art Collection (ah, it all makes sense). What lucky people who get to work there and walk by it everyday!

We did check out the spy museum and the OSS exhibit too. Unfortunately there were so many people that I couldn't stop and read about each object. The spy museum was in two parts, one exhibit dedicated to the efforts in the war in Afghanistan and another focusing on the history of spy technology. I learned that a well dressed spy lady always wears a camera broach and carries bugged cigarettes. Note to self.

In case you aren't a history buff, the OSS (Office of Strategic Services) is the WWII precursor to the CIA. The exhibition included photographs, artifacts, and communications equipment from that time including the German Enigma encryption machine. I love looking at historical objects, especially ones so important to the fate of our world, and basically drooled on all the cases as we walked through the exhibits.

This agency full of secrets can be an easy target for conspiracy theorists or critics but it was nice to see all of the employees there with their families being honored for all their hard work and dedication. I am so thankful for the chance to be there! Special thanks to the lady that made it happen. You know who you are. ;)

That one time I went to a gay bar on ladies night

Although this isn't my normal story about travel or fashion or observations in wine and art, with new experiences, whether from travel or just opening our minds to a new way of thinking, come challenges to our culture and personal constitutions. So as a deviation from the usual, here's a story about that time I went to a gay bar on ladies night.

Drawing my own: Jamie Hurst, Torso (self-portrait), 2008, charcoal on paper

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine from out of town asked me if I’d go to a gay bar with him. Rather, he asked me if I could take him to the “good” gay bars in Dupont Circle. As if I’m an expert. We started at Larry’s Lounge on the corner of T St and 18th (across the street from Lauriol Plaza). I’ve always liked this place because happy hour consists of beers less than $5, a great patio area for people watching, and you can bring your doggie. We both enjoyed it there and I patted myself on the back for a good choice.

The only other gay bar that I know of is Level One/Cobalt which is on the corner of R St and 17th. It’s the starting line for the Dupont Drag {Queen} Race and they often have drag shows there as well. So after a tour of the ‘hood we arrived at Cobalt around midnight. Just in time for the ladies night wet t-shirt contest.

I could see the disappointment on my gay male friend’s face when we climbed three flights of stairs only to stumble into a lesbian only dance party. But since we paid a $10 cover we decided to make the best of it and dance our little hearts out. I got ballsy to the tune of outdated rap and house music and decided to take the platform for a spin, just like old times. Although one might be embarrassed to dance on a platform, one must keep in mind that you can usually feel the AC better from a higher vantage point. Besides, I always feel confident in my leopard booties. Slightly bored after a song or two, I jumped down into the parting crowd. “Please tell me you’re gay,” begged the first lady in earshot. I imagine I broke a few hearts that night, sorry about that. But the attention paid to me was momentary and fleeting as soon as the wet t-shirt contest began.

I’m not sure how familiar you are with wet t-shirt contests. I’ll assume you know nothing and that you only go to classy events and you did not participate in one in college. Wet t-shirt contests for male viewers usually consist of a number of women standing on stage who resemble the closest version “normal” women can get to professional fashion models and Playboy bunnies. These fantasy women are either hired for the event or chosen with strict standards. They are scantily clad in bathing suit bottoms (and in some cases jorts) and the t-shirt is cropped at the bottom and very tightly fitting with no bra. They are as close to naked as they can get without actually being naked. To the tune of very energizing music and a DJ encouraging the contestants, they are soaked from head to toe to ensure the t-shirt is properly drenched and breasts exposed. The contestant with the most cheering (i.e. the best breasts) wins cash or free drinks all night at the fine establishment in which they have provided entertainment. (Editor’s note: Gman observed that it sounds like I have a lot of experience participating in such contests. I do not. I have witnessed many of these events as I lived across the street from fraternity row for many years in college. His fraternity, in fact.)

The structure for a wet t-shirt contest geared towards a female audience is similar but with a few variations. At the event I attended, the contestants seemed to be randomly chosen on the street or perhaps amongst the crowd earlier that evening. These women had no professional experience on a stage nor were they trophies of stereotypical beauty. They wore whatever they came out in that night. Only their top was switched out for a baggy white t-shirt, leaving the rest of their outfit intact. They were judged one at a time, versus a row of women being hosed, as an assistant gently sprayed only the breast area with water. No one got their hair wet. The show was less energetic and many contestants wore their bras underneath their t-shirts. It was like amateur hour at a cheap strip joint. A pair of thin, young women, one blonde, one brunette, ended up winning the prize of $200.

It was the worst wet t-shirt contest I’d ever seen. My general reaction was that I could have won standing backwards on stage. I was mad that I didn’t know about it ahead of time. But then after making fun of it, I got to thinking about why it was so bad. It seemed like this women’s only wet t-shirt contest was a botched version of a male erotic fantasy. It seemed like the female gaze was defined by a male one. Only slightly adjusted to accommodate what? Convenience? Time? Budget? Less experience? I’m not sure. It did not celebrate the female body or a woman’s erotic fantasy. The tone was slightly shameful, bored, and not at all empowering. Empowered is how I would expect to feel when in the company of women who love women.

I appreciated the fact that the women were “normal” looking and from various ethnic backgrounds. But the crowd wasn’t that into it and the whole thing seemed forced. Not only that, but the winners exuded the male fantasy of two Playboy bunnies going at each other. The other contestants seemed embarrassed in comparison (with the exception of a few who were too drunk to have any sense of self-consciousness).

When the contest began my first thought was perhaps the female gaze is grounded in diversity and attainable beauty. But then as soon as the usual suspects jiggled around the stage, I was disappointed. Of course they were beautiful but did it all boil down to lesbian women having the same erotic fantasies as men about women? Was a woman’s sexuality still objectified despite attempts to ratify it? Is there a way to have erotic female entertainment for women that doesn’t play off of the male fantasy (whether or not the female fantasy is about men or women)? Or is the male perspective so engrained into our culture that it is unavoidable? And is that “bad”?

What do you think? I’d love to know.

Weekend Recap: The Butterfly Garden

Having out of town guests in DC can be exhausting when you run from monument to monument without taking a break. This weekend I discovered the perfect way to take a mid afternoon rest with-in the confines of the National Mall. In between the National Gallery of Art's Sculpture Garden and the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History lies a small butterfly garden. Other tourists briskly walked through it, only considering it a shortcut to their next destination. But as we quietly and slowly strolled through the shaded path, noticed a wonder world of activity and bountiful flora. The bees, butterflies, and moths, were busily searching for and pollinating their favorite flowers. And my cousin, a garden enthusiast, was eagerly pointing out notable species of plants and educating Gman and I on their history and significance.

Although there was chaos all around, it was peaceful in the garden. To finish off our little break, we grabbed ice cream from the street vendor and ate while watching the fountain in the Sculpture Garden.

Weekend Recap: The Intruder

This is a little snapshot of our apt!

As I walked in the door Wednesday morning after a red-eye flight home from San Francisco, something didn't feel right. Something in the house was off. In the kitchen the towel which usually hangs on the stove was slumped on the floor and some crackers and chocolate looked as if they fell off the shelf but were unopened. I thought it was strange as Gman would never leave things out of order like that. My heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be. There's just no way. I can't deal with this.

Everyone living in New York City gets mice. Its a fact of life. It doesn't matter how much money you have or which floor you live on. It's the experience that brings all New Yorkers together. People have different theories on how to deal with it too.

In case you aren't from NYC here's a quick overview: Most exterminators will survey the space, plug any holes with steel wool, and then set out sticky traps. This is the surest way to contain the problem as no new mice can enter, they cannot chew the steel wool, and any remaining in the space will likely walk across the sticky trap (which is basically a VERY sticky sheet of paper you place on the floor). However,  a lot of people find the sticky traps inhumane (you can hear them crying when they slowly die and try to chew their own legs off), so opt for a rainbow of other devices (some just capture them Cinderella style).

I had mice in NYC. There were three over three and a half years, so pretty good compared to others. It's hard to describe the feeling you get when you feel their presence. I feel it in my spine. I can hear them, rustling plastic, scampering around. Then I see it. Reaching for the garbage or hiding under the table. And terror pumps through my veins.

No mice in Washington D.C. though or other pests for that matter. I lived the good life and after more than a year being mouse-free, my paranoia started to subside.


So on Wednesday, I didn't see anything. I just knew. But I was tired and decided to take a nap on the couch before unpacking, eating, investigating. I woke up with a gasping breath to the sound of pattering feet scrambling across the carpet towards the kitchen. Was that a dream? Is there a mouse in the house? I tried to relax but after a few hours of hearing it walking across the ceiling tiles I was certain. Son-of-a-bitch. Gman was still out of town. Days of cleaning, searching, calling the exterminator, and setting mouse traps go by until Saturday. Saturday, the fateful moment when I came face to face with the terror.

I was again home alone and made the mistake of opening the door to the under the sink area, its new home. It wasn't a mouse. It was a huge street rat staring at me. After a moment of shock I hysterically jumped, screamed, and clapped in an attempt to scare it off. It stared at me and casually crawled back into the wall. Then I basically had a nervous breakdown.

Very kind men assisted me at the hardware store, which always has the best selection of poisons and traps. As I was choosing steel wool to plug the hole, another patron said, "Oh is that for rats? Rats eat steel wool for breakfast." My nerves were shot and I started crying in the store. This kind man took me around the store and advised me how to deal with the rats. By the time I got home, so did Gman. He found me squatting on a stool, drinking bourbon, and still crying - angry that the bastard got the best of me.


We set out almost every trap known to man (not the sticky ones, I just can't get on that train), and some poison too just in case and haven't heard him since. But two days later and the traps are still empty. What happened to him? Did he move out? Eat the poison? Is he waiting patiently for us to keep garbage in the house again? I will not rest until I know for certain the rat is dead and the holes are fixed.

So unfortunately there is no conclusion to this story... yet.

How was your weekend?

UPDATE: HE'S IN THE CEILING...

Weekend Recap: The Guest House

Over the last two weeks I have entertained out-of-town guests. First, two of my best friends from college, one had never been to DC, and then my parents and aunt were in town for a week. I now consider myself a professional tour guide although I've also sworn off going to see the Lincoln Memorial for the rest of the summer.

I love hosting friends and family and sharing my world with them. However, I find it very difficult to balance any personal time while visitors are in town. Usually our guests stay with us in our tiny basement apartment, so we are together night and day. Those moments drinking wine on the couch while playing games are always the best but I'm the type that needs some quiet time in order to refresh myself. After the visit, I'm always left drained and my routine out of whack.

So I'd love to know- How do you handle the balance between hosting visitors and downtime? Do you consider their visit your vacation too?  Or is it appropriate to not take the day off work and hand them a map?

Weekend Recap: The Great Indoors

I did my best to avoid most outdoor activities this weekend. In case you missed it, there has been a record breaking heatwave in DC with temperatures reaching 105 degrees plus humidity. With the exception of a Nats game (I only lasted 7 innings) and a trip to the farmer's market, Gman and I enjoyed the great indoors with our fabulous air conditioning.

I finally dove into some books I purchased last week and made Gman watch his first Wes Anderson film. I'm a huge fan and started Gman with The Darjeeling Limited. I love the story of estranged, grieving brothers on a journey to spiritual enlightenment. Everything goes wrong and their relationships are so deeply dysfunctional but the points are made so subtly, that somehow its all too familiar.

Do you like his movies? Have you seen Moonrise Kingdom yet?

Weekend Recap: A Country Drive

This weekend was Gman’s birthday, certainly cause for some much needed celebration. Since I’ve been out of town for nearly two weeks, I wanted to take him on a special get-a-way, just for the two of us. I stalked magazines, journals, travel books, blogs, and websites for ideas and felt uninspired. Where could we go for a last minute weekend trip that wouldn’t break the bank?

Gman isn’t always up front about what he wants. He doesn’t specifically say, hey I want a pony for my birthday. He’ll just send me articles about ponies and talk about how interesting they are. Does your partner ever do that? Although not trained as a mind-reader, I’ve become rather good at picking up the clues and since he’s been harping on going to see Monticello since January, I ascertained that it might be a good spot for a birthday trip.

So I booked a rental car and told him to take the day off on Friday. With the car reserved from 9am – 9pm and I expected to leave the house around 8am, jump on the metro, grab the car at Regan International Airport, and then hit up Whole Foods in Arlington to stock up on treats and items for a picnic lunch in some fabulous garden at the top of the mountain. After an idyllic drive, we would arrive at Monticello by 11:30am and have 4 or so hours to tour the gardens, house and have our picnic. I imagined we would be laughing hand-in-hand as we learned about some good ol’ American history and made fun of the other tourists. For dinner, I planned on going to the Rappahannock winery to have a tasting/pairing and some fancy food. We would have stimulating conversation over dinner and I would sleep in the car on the way back to the city.

 

But this is what really happened.

We woke up at 9:30. Stumbled out the door, got the car, and went to Whole Foods where they were out of coffee. I thought people were going to start tearing up the place until almost the last moment, more was served. At noon we were finally on the road. I was getting stressed. I called Monticello to see if we could reserve our tour, they said no. I tried to relax. Gman was relaxed.

Finally at almost 3pm we walked up to the visitor’s center at Monticello. There was thunder. No tickets being sold. Crowds of eager families waited to see if the storms would pass. So distracted by the coffee incident, I forgot to purchase picnic provisions so we ate at the café. At this rate we would certainly miss dinner at Rappahannock. I felt defeated. Could anything else go wrong?

I realized then that although my fantasy day wasn’t turning out the way I imagined, it didn’t mean reality was wrong. It didn’t mean that I failed my husband. He was having a great day. He had no expectations and thought it was great to just get out of the office. I had to learn to be flexible, think on my toes, and go with the flow. So I took a deep breath and ordered a glass of wine with my lunch.

 

can you see the skydivers?

For two hours we slowly ate lunch, meandered through the expansive gift shop, and toured the small historical gallery/museum. At 4:30 they got the ‘go’ signal from the powers that be to sell tickets. People bum rushed the line (why do people do this?) and we realized that by the time we actually got to the house, it would be time to turn right back around. So we left. We went for a country drive instead.

It was so relaxing to just look out the window and see the world go by. I caught glimpses of other people’s lives. I could see their stories quickly zip past. We saw lots of animals – chickens, deer, horses, cows, crows, and even a groundhog. We saw men working construction, parachutes open for skydivers, and farmers checking their crops. We passed by great historical mansions and burned out shells of old homes. We even stopped to get some candy at a gas station!

Once back in town, we met up with my dad and cousins who were unexpectedly in town. I quickly changed all the plans and put together a guy’s night- Texas BBQ at Hill Country then exotic beers at Beer Baron (yum, yum). Everyone had a great time!

The day turned out to be much more fun and relaxing than I could have ever planned and Gman had a fantastic birthday. I realized that sometimes life is better than what you envisioned and sometimes the most difficult expectations to manage are your own.

Weekend Recap: on the road again...

Two weeks ago I got a panicked phone call from a friend of mine. He and his wife were in a bind and needed help moving their cats from NYC to their new home in Phoenix, AZ. I jumped at the opportunity to not only help them out but see a few new places too. My journey began Friday with a train ride to Westchester from DC and an extremely hospitable stay at my friend's parent's home. Saturday we prepared for the trip out west and squeezed in a little kickboxing action (I'm still sore). We flew out Saturday night. The flight with cats was surprisingly easy! I'll share some tips with you later this week.

I'll be out here in Arizona for the week and looking forward to exploring! I've never seen such enormous cactus before and I've heard there are even road runners and coyotes out here. I can't wait to share this next adventure with you. If you have any favorite spots near Phoenix, let me know in the comments below. I'd love to check it out.

On the blog this week... I'll be profiling a museum in Denver, reviewing an exhibit in DC, giving you some travel tips, drinkin' some wine, and seeing if AZ has any Shoe Love.

Destination: A Hike Near Denver









We pulled up to the payment booth and rolled down the window. “That’ll be $7,” the park ranger said asking for our payment. As we passed him the money he started going over the park rules, “It’s a drought so no cigarettes. Right now its bear, mountain lion, and rattlesnake season, so boys – you lead the way on the trail.” We laughed uncomfortably. As he confirmed each item on his list of rules and regulations, his voice sounded very affirmative as if he didn’t trust us. “And for future reference no dogs” we looked around at each other in confusion. Usually when someone says that they are saying you can get by this time but here’s the rule for next time. Sort of like when you are pulled over for texting and driving, you act like you didn’t know and the cop gives you a warning. Except in this instance we had no dog. Before we went on our way he warned us of the incoming thunderstorms and asked us to turn back on the trail if we saw inclement weather.

The hike at Carpenter’s Peak Trail at Roxborough was a leisurely trek* up a mountain through red rocks and desert foliage. I asked too many unanswered questions along the way like, what kind of tree/flower/rock is this. What type of bird is that singing? I think there are several different ones. Are they all the same species? Has anyone ever seen a bear? Is that a humming bird? My hiking mates, my sister, cousin, and friend, had no qualms about expressing their annoyance. I then hiked quietly, only slightly aggravating them when I stopped every 5 seconds to take pictures.


The storm the park ranger mentioned seemed to be passing north of us, so despite some thunder we marched along. I loved the way the orange-red rocks popped against the dark sky. It was like night and day all at the same time. Slowly we realized that everyone else we passed on the trail was going in the opposite direction. We must have gotten here later in the afternoon than normal, I thought. Then more thunder. The clouds started shifting and separate groups of clouds began to darken and grow heavy. I asked if we should head back and my experienced outdoorsy companions teased me and urged me onward.

We were almost to the summit, when a couple hurried past us and said, “There is a lot of lightening up there. We’re heading back and so should you.” They gave us a look a mother does when she says “young lady.” I took this as a validation of my previous anxiety and was now begging to return. Disappointed and reluctant they finally agreed. But only half way down it started to rain and we stopped in the woods to determine a course of action. Should we stay or should we go? After more coaxing and dirty looks from other passing hikers, we left.

We ran back to the car with the cold rain drops wetting our hair, clothes, and skin. I've never been out in nature in a storm**. It was terrifying and exhilarating to run through the branches with dusty path underfoot. The rain refreshed me as I sweat while the thunder and lightning motivated me to keep going. By the time we got to the car I was soaked and out of breath. We jumped in and drove back more quickly than we arrived. I exhaled a sigh of relief and thought about the experience. I will never forget the smell of the stormy mountain air and the quietness it brought to the wilderness.


*The national park website says the trail is moderate but I didn't find it to be too intimidating.
**On land. I owe you a story about my time on the stormy seas.