family – Page 3 – On the Horizon Line

Family and Friends, Outdoor Adventures, Reflections on Life

Bittersweet New Year’s Reflections

It’s 2013 today. Christmas came and went, and so did the Winter Solstice. The days are already getting longer and lighter, pulling Montana toward spring.

But the icicles on our back patio are still growing longer every day.

This juxtaposition of more light alongside more ice complements how I feel as the holidays come to a close. My excitement grows every day about our upcoming spring-like lifestyle change. But the sadness of leaving my family grows right alongside it.

The holidays magnified all of these bittersweet feelings associated with leaving.

The Willets and Cassidy on New Years Day

Watching my dad don a Santa costume on Christmas Eve, while Rob played with 12 children in Bobby and Joellen’s house made me feel full to the brim. Spending Christmas day with my parents, Cass and Rob (and Alta, the doggie) was low-key and easy here in Missoula … but extra-poignant, since I was trying to memorize everyone’s faces, comments, emotions. And spending New Year’s Eve at Hogback Cabin (an old homestead on U.S. Forest Service land along the fabled Rock Creek) with Cass, Rob and a few friends was — as Kelley and Mike said best — the only place I’d want to be.

My favorite adventure buddy, and her sidekick, Alta

My sister, in particular, will be the hardest to leave. I just read Cutting For Stone at the cabin, with its story of identical twins who felt like one person: “ShivaMarion.” Even though we’re not identical, I sometimes feel like “BriCass” — a meld that will be painfully hard to separate into two individuals.

As one of my friends recently told me, “There’s nothing like an impending departure to give everything you’re leaving a rosy glow.” So true. Right now, the winter days don’t seem as grey or cold, small arguments seem endearing, and I forget daily frustrations in favor of sweet reminisces.

We leave exactly 12 weeks from today. That means only 10 more weeks of work. And only a precious few weekends — hell, days, even! — to spend with my favorite people and in my favorite places before we sail off.

I felt a bit overwhelmed by that realization, and decided to strap on my cross-country skis to clear my head. I always think better when I’m moving.

As I clicked into my skis across the street from our house and started gliding toward Rattlesnake Creek, I reviewed images of the year that passed. Weekends at cabins, vacation with Cass on Kauai, learning to backcountry snowboard in Canada, dancing on stage in bodypaint to my own choreography, sailing, backpacking, biking. Countless dinners with friends and family. Laughing. Crying. Laughing until I cried. Getting married, and being a part of many of our best friends’ weddings, too.

A year to remember. And be thankful for. Knock on wood (lots of it).

But my thoughts quickly shifted to the year to come. My brain slapped me upside the head, and said, “Why are you leaving these people and these places?”

My heart slapped back, saying, “To grow, and learn, and change. To make more memories to share around campfires, dinner tables, and parties when we get back. To let my family grow and change, too.”

The icicles aren’t going anywhere soon, that’s for sure. And I’ll be writing more about the sadness of leaving. Yet I also know one thing for certain from my years growing up in season-less Southern California: the ice makes the spring so very much sweeter.

on the horizon line sailing blog - brianna randall

Family and Friends, Food and Drink

Giving thanks (and buying stuff).

On this post-Thanksgiving Sunday, I am grateful for my sister, my parents, and my husband who are my best friends. I am grateful for the loving and close-knit circle of Missoula and Portland-based friends who are my family.

I am grateful for rainy walks by cold creeks, hot turkey soup, long soaks in wood-fired saunas, and dancing on the bar at Charlie B’s with my best girlfriends.

I am grateful for abundant food coupled with abundant creativity. I am grateful for the time to play music in the living room and make movies in the kitchen. I am grateful for gracious hosts, cuddly dogs chasing frisbees, laughing children doing animal dances, and Moscow Mules.

And I am grateful that Rob and I have the incredible opportunity to travel and explore the world in the coming year … even though this opportunity comes with the poignant cost of leaving all these beautiful things behind for a bit.

With the leave-taking a mere four months away, we decided to participate in Black Friday sales to gear-up for our travel adventures. Check out the recent purchases:

Katie and Mark in Baja — We clicked “purchase” on 2 one-way plane tickets from Missoula to Cabo San Lucas, where we’ll start the voyage in the company of our good friends Katie and Mark in Sea of Cortez aboard their 28-foot Pearson-Triton sailboat, Selkie.

seal line pro pack — We bought 115-liter waterproof SealLine Pro Packs, which will be our portable homes and closets for the next year or two. Everything we bring abroad must fit in these packs.

marine knife — Rob did a happy dance when his marine-grade rigging knife came in the mail from Myerchin.com. “I’ve always wanted a marlinspike,” he said. It cost more than this dollar.

Sony Mic test video — Click on this picture to watch a video on how well our newest toy works. It’s a knock-off Sony external mic for making videos on our GoPro or iPhone. Only $6!

Community and Culture, Dance and Yoga

Dancing Adventures

Dancing is definitely up there with my top 3 favorite things in life. Especially when I get to pair it with one of my other top 3 favorites: spending quality time with my best friends and family (which, luckily for me, happen to be the same people).

Check out this video of a little Wednesday night ditty with my buddy, “Karamat.” Yup, we’re wearing random costumes. Nope, we’re not even slightly buzzed. Why? Well, why the hell not? What else would we do on a dark, cold-ish Montana weeknight? Plus, I wanted to inaugurate the new Go Pro Hero 2 that arrived that afternoon in the mail (checked it off the list in our Little Red Bon Voyage Bible, thanks to 20% off at REI). And I hadn’t seen “Karamut” since the last time we donned random wigs and danced around…at least 2 weeks ago.

Saturday night, my sister and dad and I left the wigs in the costume trunk, and went down to the Blacksmith Brewery in Stevensville to investigate the seasonal Pumpkin Ale and the groovy tunes of Tom Catmull. Both rocked. Too bad I left the Go Pro at home…the slightly blurry smartphone pics are still pretty fun, though. Check out the father-daughter duo tearing up the brewery dance floor below. I got in a dance with both Cassidy and Dad, and also led Ali in a sweet polka spin. My pink cowboy boots always make me feel like leading a polka.

sunset at caras park in downtown missoula

Community and Culture, Food and Drink

My North Star = Missoula, Montana

Tonight, I went to my 10^th annual Farm Party. It’s only one block from my house, and said to be the best party of the summer here in Missoula, Montana. The sunflowers are reaching toward the creek, the acres of corn shelter giggling children, and the rows of shiny veggies gleam next to the wooden stage on the back of a red pickup. Over 500 people show up, eating dinner, drinking local beer, and dancing to local bands under the late-night Rocky Mountain sunset.

I’ve been to just about every Farm Party since they started in 2002, the year I moved here. The college kids look younger every year, and my friends seem to procreate exponentially (if the giggles from the corn rows are any indication). But some things remain constant at the Farm Party: the number of bikes always dwarfs the cars; the beets are always plentiful; and you always see plenty of old and new friends. As I walked up, with my beer-in-a-jar in one hand and my baseball hat in the other, I laughed at a dad riding a skateboard while pushing one kid in a stroller and yelling at his bike-bound toddler ahead of him.

It’s my last party for a while.

We’re leaving this spring, setting sail for adventures west of my mountains, and for unknown horizons. I don’t know if we’ll be gone for one year, or two…or ten. There’s joy in that unknown, and in the freedom of bursting from routine into an unplanned and unscheduled world. But there’s also joy—and comfort—in knowing we’ll be back.

As I walked home in the mild summer air, the north horizon still reflecting the last rays of sunset at 10pm, I looked up. Cassiopeia loomed above me, while tipsy bikers careened past my shoulder. I found the Big Dipper, and gazed at the North Star. She sits directly above the mountains I know intimately, the trails I’ve biked and the creek I’ve fished and swam in this past decade.

It was such a good decade.

It’s interesting to feel the pull of contradictory needs these last six months before we leave. I want to cuddle with our dog, or stretch out on our wide, cozy couch before crunching my life into one backpack and one small sailboat. But I also want to talk to everyone in this community, memorize the children’s faces and let them memorize mine–don’t forget me!–and revel in the sweet, short Montana summer. I want my hair to grow long and blanket me during the cold Montana winter, but I can’t want to crop it short, to keep me cool when I cross the Equator.

My friend Joellen pulled me into a hug the last time I left Missoula for a spell. I still remember what she whispered in my ear, because I tell it to my friends who leave, too: “We love you. We’ll miss you. And we’ll be right here when you get back.”

When I look up at that North Star while I’m in Thailand or Alaska or Hawaii, I’ll picture my friends dancing at a flower-studded farm under an August sunset. And though I will travel far and wide, in the end I know that the same star will guide me back home.