Realization of the Finite

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Comfortably roosted in the corner chair, draped with a plush blanket, I read and enjoy my morning cup of coffee. The pages turn at no specified intervals. I interpret text on the page the way I perceive it, perhaps completely different than you. I’m content with the moment and my mind drifts.

“How many moments like this will I enjoy?”

The torrent of thoughts interrupts my reading. I follow along, my mind turns and churns, thoughts pushing up like spring Tulips. Beautiful and brief.

“How many books will I be able to read during my life?”

Existential.

As an adult at 28 years of age, I can comfortably say that I know what I like, I’ve been able to understand myself and my values. I know that I like to read. I discovered, for myself, that there are other worlds and depths of knowledge between the covers. I can confidently say that 20 books a year would be a comfortably achievable average for my reading.

I can also say that I am more than likely one third of the way through my life.

Assuming I am one third of the way along to our collective destinations, I have 60 years left to read….and live, of course. 1,200 books. The amount of books I have left to read. If you walk into any proper book store, there will be an excess of over 1,200 books.

Time for an exercise.

Close your eyes and picture one wall of a bookstore. That very may well be the amount of books you may ever get to read, all of the walls around you will forever be unknown, unopened. This is of course a metaphor, as you may not actually enjoy reading, but it certainly applies to something in your life.

60 years, may seem long, and it is, if you use a human-lifespan scale. On other scales, such as geologic, we are less than a blink. Think about 60 years ago, the ‘60’s! Leather vests, hippies, headbands, Hendrix, Woodstock, LSD, Race Riots, MLK.

60 years to me means 60 more: summers of a river's bliss, winters of freshly sheeted mountains, times to smell the first warm breeze of the year. The list goes on, but I try not to think about it too much.

To put this in perspective, I have another exercise for you. Stand up and find a place where you can walk a straight line for roughly 100’ or 30 meters and be able to see where you started. Take a deep breath before your first step, notice both feet on the ground, side by side, this represents the current moment. Begin to walk, taking note of each step, and how the weight of your body transitions to each foot, each year. Walk a total of (90 minus your age) steps. Turn around and reflect on where you came from. You can see where you started, it doesn’t look too far.

This is my realization, the Realization of the Finite. Life is short, it is limited and therefore all the more precious.

Go smell the roses, smile, give a hug, listen to the birds, feel the sun on your skin. Love.

Imposter Syndrome

Leading the snowshoe tour on a fantastically gorgeous February day.

It was early February when I received an email in my inbox inquiring about any volunteers who would be willing to lead a guided forest snowshoe tour at the Nordic Center for the Métis Nation Columbia River Society. Wanting to get involved with a local conservation non-profit (Wildsight), I threw my name into the wind and let them know that I would be willing to lead that tour. Shortly thereafter I was thanked for volunteering to lead the tour, but as an unknown person who would be representing Wildsight, they needed to be sure I was up to the task. 

I “Interviewed” for the position, perhaps not an interview at all really, but a pointed conversation about my relevant background. My background in fire ecology, forestry, and having guided bear tours in Alaska set me up fairly well for the task. After I took that phone call in the blustery winds of a Canadian winter, I was the one chosen to lead the tour. 

A couple of days before the tour I started preparing a more in-depth walking presentation. Reviewing my plant ID books, specifically the trees because they were the primary vegetation visible above the hefty winter snows. As I regathered fun facts and tidbits of information, I began to think of who I would be guiding. The Métis Nation Columbia River Society. Wait…Why am I getting to guide these folks? Should I be the one teaching Métis folks about the ecology of the local landscape? 

For those of you who may not know, the Métis are of mixed European and Indigenous ancestry. 

My thoughts, of course, cascaded and began racing. Do I really have the appropriate knowledge to be teaching Indigenous people about The Land? As a white person, shouldn’t I be learning from Indigenous people about The Land? Self-doubting rhetoric circulated around my mind. 

On the day of the tour, I woke up feeling nervous. The sense of Imposter Syndrome shrouded my mind.

What if what I was taught is wrong? Am I really qualified to be doing this? 

With the tour beginning in a couple of hours, there was no room for escape. I was locked into an agreement. 

While arriving into the small snow-covered parking lot, a group of 8 or so folks could be seen standing around with snowshoes. They were MY group. 8 people, not so bad. Soon enough there were more and by the time we were all circled, a dozen eager learners stood before me. 

We introduced ourselves going around the circle, one by one. I was the last to introduce myself, and at the end of my introduction, squeaked in that I was the guide for the walk. Introductions were followed by a stretch and a smudge, incorporating a prayer in the local Métis dialect. Most people there were locals and simply wanted to go on a snowshoe tour to learn more about the surrounding ecosystem. 

My worries were irrelevant. Produced from nothing but the absence of confidence and the creation of assumptions. 

As an unorganized bunch, we sauntered with our oversized feet to the head of the packed-in snowshoe trail. Before entering the forest in a single file line, I announced and encouraged everyone to ask a question if they had any and that I would do my best to answer. Everyone gave a nod. We were off.

The claw mark of a bear scars the trunk of a Quaking Aspen.

As the tour progressed, I became much more comfortable and relaxed with myself and the group. Eventually, I felt as if I were on any other hike, pointing out the catkins on the red alder, or the galls that punctuated the tips of the spruce. I was enjoying myself. I was also enjoying teaching people about the local ecology, the forest, what I love. 

I lost track of time and distance, pointing out the unique features of various tree species. A quick glance at my watch and we were an hour and a half into a two-hour tour, but in terms of distance, 25% complete. Ensuing a prompt discussion, we took a shortcut, increasing our pace over the undulating terrain. 

The snowshoe tour was complete, we arrived at the hut near the beginning of the trail. A casual afternoon picnic of bannock, smoked trout, and labrador tea in the February sun allowed us to interact as a group once again. People thanked me for being their guide as we discussed my background more in-depth and shared stories. 

A residual birds nest enduring the winter.

I had never felt Imposter Syndrome before this day. I questioned myself, my knowledge, and my abilities. It cast a real doubt over me. I think it may be rooted in the fact that it has been a while since I had given a tour, or brushed up on my botanical knowledge. I was naturally nervous about my qualifications. In the end, everything turned out just fine, in fact, it was a lot of fun! 

The snowshoe tour was followed by another on February 28th which also went very well, in fact, some folks from the first tour came again and brought friends! The best part? Not an inkling of imposter syndrome was about. 

GDT: What About Food

“Fooooooodddd” 

The mumbled sound carried across the oddly calm lake. On the other side, a hiker suffering from deep hunger.

This is our fear, to be hungry from a cause that we could’ve thoroughly prevented. 

Good Food > Bad Food

If you’ve never had the privilege to enjoy a sit-down meal with Solange and me, you wouldn’t guess that we consume a lot of food. A lot. So much so, that much of our planning in life, and for the GDT, orbits the concept and materialization of food. Going out to a restaurant is usually displeasing when you receive the bill and think to yourself “I can definitely make that better…” 

Whats’ worse?

When I can make it better, I’m still hungry, and I am staggered that half a week’s money worth of groceries is gone. 

So, in our preparation for our 54-night outing, we are going the extra mile to ensure that not only our nutritional values are met, but that our palettes are delighted at the sensory exposure of finely prepared meals whilst in the wilderness. 

From a financial perspective, consuming freeze-dried meals, such as Mountain House or Backpacker’s Pantry, doesn’t provide the value we need. At a very conservative $12 per meal that would cost the 2 of us…well, let’s see ($12/meal * 2 people * 54 nights = $1,296) and that’s just for dinner! Yikes! 

Our approach to fine dining in the backcountry embodies the belief “if you want it done right, do it yourself.” So, that is exactly what we are doing! In order to save money, we had to spend some money to buy our own food dehydrator. Making our own meals will not only allow us to fine-tune the flavor, quantity, and nutrients, it also allows us to add variety and take creative control of our diet. Fresh veggies and even veggies in freeze-dried meals are not abundant, so we will be adding more veggies to our diet for a boost of fiber and nutrients. 

Solange skims the directions before the christening of the dehydrator.

The cost of our meals at home are right around $3.25/meal, or less than $20 per day for two people. Compared with two freeze-dried dinners for $24, we clearly have the monetary upper hand. Now, when we are making meals specifically for the GDT, we will increase our carbohydrate component of each meal, to provide the appropriate volume of food and “energy”. With that said, I believe our backpacking meals will come out to less than $3.25 per meal. 

Let’s see how much we will save…

(($3.25/meal * 2 people * 54 nights) + $200) = $551

1,296 - 551 = $745

The dehydrator investment was well worth it. We reduced our dinner cost by 57%! 

“Shout and Holler; For we saved a couple dollars!”

— Unknown

Dinner is the focus of our meal creation. Our thought behind it is that after a shitty, long, hard, wet, cold day (It’s bound to happen) we can at least have our creature comforts of a tasty warm meal while shivering in our sleeping bags under the protection of our trusty tent. 

Chili on top, Spaghetti on the bottom. The first attempt at dehydrating our meals.

Ahhh, why yes, the other two meals, breakfast and lunch. Our thoughts on these two meals are that we will be on the move so something quick, portable, and nutrient-dense will do us best, especially for breakfast. 

Breakfast. As much as I would like to boil some water, sip warm coffee and stir together a batch of creamy oatmeal, I don’t think it’s realistic to perform that ritual every morning. Hearing from others that they shared similar aspirations for a nice breakfast, only to find themselves a few days later ditching the sit-down meal for a granola bar and a stroll. “It just adds more steps to the morning breakdown routine” is a commonly cited reason for abandoning the sit-down meal. 

Lunch. Now, this is a good time to take a little break, sit down and mix up some water with a creation dried several months earlier while snow still covered the ground. Dehydrated hummus. Boy, does that ever sound good?! Perched on a ridge somewhere in the Rockies enjoying hummus, crackers, cheese, and cured meat. That won’t be every day, but it will provide a substantial portion of our lunchtime meals. 

A total cost breakdown of our meals at this point would be anything but exact, a well pointed-assumption is perhaps a better term. If we assume that dinner will be our most expensive meal of the day, to provide an upper limit value, we can assume that all three meals will cost $10/day/person. So….($10 * 2 * 54 = $1080) $1080?! That sounds a bit low, but maybe it isn’t? I would expect that all said and done, we will have budgeted for $1500 of food for the entire trip. 

$1500 / 2 people / 54 night = $13.88/person/day

$13.88 if you recall, is roughly the same price as a single mountain house. 

Solange showing off our first dehydrated meals! 250g each of dehydrated chili and Spaghetti.