friends – Page 3 – On the Horizon Line

friends dressed up in costume at our wedding in caras park in missoula

Community and Culture, Family and Friends

Finding Our Center in Missoula

My boss, Karen, likes to say that Missoula, Montana is the center of the universe. It’s certainly been the center of our universe this past decade, as we live and breathe the mountains, rivers and people that make this Rocky Mountain town so magical.

We’ve also lived with the not-so-magical Missoula moments: grey funky winter air settling over those iced-up rivers for days on end; wildfire smoke creeping along mountainsides (and inside lungs) during August; and familiar faces feeling a little too familiar when you’re craving anonymity and diversity.

We choose to live here for many reasons, but the main one is this: community. If Missoula is the center of the universe, then community is the center of Missoula. It’s the reason we make less money, endure long (really long) winters, and smoky summers. It’s the reason amazing, unexpected things unfold in the valley. It’s the reason we’re not selling our house when we leave for our adventures. It’s the reason we will always return.

Last night, I went to a fundraising dinner sponsored by the University of Montana’s Environmental Studies program, fondly referred to as “EVST” by students and alum (the code used for class registration). Those of you who read my post after an EVST retreat in September know that graduate school profoundly shaped me. EVST is more than just school, it’s an experience: it provided me with a career, passion, friends, confidence, and even the courage to voyage into the unknown on this journey we’re about to embark upon.

And, most importantly, EVST and its people form the center of my Missoula community.

At the dinner, I looked around the room and listened to my friends talking about why they love the program, which is also why many of them love Missoula. It gives us fire in the belly, connection to place, values-based advocacy, a life support system, sharing circles, starships, drinking partners, visionaries, and ski buddies.

The people in that room just get me. They get why we’re leaving our beautiful home, good jobs, and comfortable community. They get why we want to write this blog, meet new people, bumble through foreign cultures, and take risks without knowing the exact outcomes. And they congratulate us on making the leap into that unknown.

Biking home after dinner, I felt all of the connections in my universe wrapping around me like the silky strands of a spider web. These strands are deeply and irrevocably interwoven with Missoula, my family who lives here, and my community who will still be here when we get back. Cheers to that.

Downing Mountain in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana with Cassidy Randall

Parenting

A Pair of Skis Saved My Soul

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.” – Edward Abbey.

by: Cassidy Randall

(M.U.P. Files contributor)

I am shaped by sun and desert. I wonder that snow has found its way into my bones, into my dreams, the space behind my eyes. It has become my addiction, my religion.

I believe that a pair of skis saved my soul.

I am in the midst of a torrid love affair with our local ski hill, one that has not abated for the years under our belts.

But it’s the wild beauty of the backcountry that draws me back again and again – the seduction of an unbroken expanse of snow, the reliance on our knowledge and sometimes tenuous judgment, the faith in finding grace on an empty mountaintop.

Skiing in the ranges of the Rocky Mountains has taught me to appreciate my body for what it can do, and not for what it looks like – unless what it looks like is strong and ambitious. I’m in love with the humility of looking out across a sea of peaks, knowing that I could not possibly know all of them the way I have come to know the one I am standing on top of – because there are so many, because they have settled like wise old men into the cold winter, because they do not bow to the human need for access.

I am addicted to exhaustion. To aching lungs and a wandering mind. To the sound of nothing but my breathing, my skis breaking a new trail, and the quiet noise of snow falling. I am addicted to how damn hard this can be.

I believe that skiing untouched snow is the closest I come to flying.

When the rush has opened up my body and mind, and washed them clean so entirely that joy and exhilaration is all that makes them new again – that is the feeling I dream of. For a sense of gratitude so strong that it lingers well into the night, into the next day, in my bones and dreams and the space behind my eyes.

I am graced by the moments after the rush.

***

The M.U.P Files are the community corner of On the Horizon Line. These stories are written by our frie

nds and family who are exploring hometown horizons. Why “M.U.P.?” Because dispatches from the desks of our loved ones are like “magical unicorn ponies” that fly across the sea to greet us on distant shores.

Want to be a M.U.P.? Join the party. We can’t wait to hear your voice while we sail.

Family and Friends, Hiking, Videos

Puppy Love

Remember our recent foray into homesteading? Here’s a short video clip that showcases a few highlights::

1) Kipp and Christine’s adorable 8-week-old puppy, Penny.

2) A not-very-good but fun-to-play rendition of our group’s version of “Wagon Wheel” (aka the “Freebird” of our generation), which is redeemed by Brad’s fiddle playing. Note: stay tuned for future songs from our epic bathroom recording sessions. Bathtubs make good studios.

3) Some funny shots of us hopping barbed-wire fences.

[framed_video column=”full-width”]http://youtu.be/Ay9-BOQnHqg [/framed_video]

Family and Friends, Hiking

Modern Homesteading

Sometimes, all you need to rejuvenate is quality time with close friends. Rob, Cass and I drove 7 hours from Missoula to the Columbia Gorge to spend a long weekend with friends in Mosier (pronounced Moe-sure for real, or MOE-zee-eh, if you like to add in a fake French accent like we do). We decided we were due for a “homesteading” weekend, which — in our modern definition — meant chopping wood, wandering in the woods, making cookies, and knitting. Basically, hanging out around a fireplace with your favorite people.

Kipp and Christine are leasing a sweet house in the oak-scrub foothills above the Columbia River for 6 months. Perfect for homesteading. Our friend Margi came out from Portland, as did a few other Portland buddies. Collectively, we call ourselves “family,” “the band,” “the wolf pack,” and “awesome.”

We were missing a few of the pack members this weekend, but it was still easy to fall into a rhythm. The rhythm might change tempo depending on our location (cabin, car, raft, trail, sailboat) or our ultimate mission for the visit (wedding, backpacking, Thanksgiving, wolf-watching, costume party, river trip, relaxing). But we manage to maintain the same daily mix of making music, eating good food, sharing fancy cocktails, finding birds, playing with doggies, and exploring nature’s nooks and crannies. And laughing … a LOT.

We didn’t get in the car once during our 3-night stay. In fact, we didn’t even leave a 2-mile radius of the house. But we managed to make the minutes stretch and the days count, as we made more memories to add to our collective bundle of shared experience. Sometimes those experiences are as wild as getting lost in Joshua Tree National Park until the wee hours on a 20-degree night, or portaging 100-yard log jams in heavy rafts in the Bob Marshall Wilderness.

Other times, they’re as simple as watching a new puppy in front of a wood-fired stove, playing Apples to Apples, recording 3-part harmony in the bathroom, jamming out with a violin, egg-shakers, piano and guitars (with makeshift picks) or making killer tacos. No matter what, it’s the sharing that makes our pack’s experiences stand out as stellar.

We sure hope they come out to visit us in the South Seas. After all, it’s time to pioneer how to homestead on a sailboat.

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!

Family and Friends, Food and Drink, Traveling

Me + 2 Hot Mamas in San Fran = 3 Barbies in a Boat

Two things I’ll miss when we sail into the sunset — girlfriends and walking.

Two things I won’t miss a bit — grey winters and biting-cold Montana wind.

This weekend I was lucky enough to soak in the good stuff and get outta the bad. On Friday afternoon, I hopped on a cheap Allegiant Air flight to San Francisco with two of my favorite ladies. We said goodbye to husbands, dogs, and children, escaping the frigid cloudy skies with giddy excitement. Last time I headed out of town time for quality girlfriend time with Joellen and Gillian was over 5 years ago, and I was psyched to hang with these two hot mamas for 4 days of city time fun.

First stop: our friend Melissa’s SUV outside of Oakland airport. Second stop: a giant (authentic!) margarita in the Mission district. Third stop: Sengalese food at Baobao, followed by a rockin’ dance party as dinner tables were cleared out from under us. “You dance crazy,” we heard, multiple times, from different patrons. True that. Not bad for the first few hours in the big city.

Thanks to our friends Andrew and Julie, we got to stay in a sweet apartment one block from the Presidio. While the mamas headed to yoga the next morning, I followed the siren call of salt water and ran to the beach. Now, if you know me at all, you know I only run when large predators are chasing me or I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to get somewhere fast.

As a landlocked beach girl, seeing the ocean after almost 6 months brings out my rusty running instincts. I spent the day tooling around beaches and marinas, watching fisherman, sailboats, and kiteboarders. Dreaming of the soon-to-come days when I’ll be staring at land from the water, instead of vice versa. Dreaming of the day when I will feel as urgent about getting to the shore as I now feel about getting to the water.

We drank champagne when we reunited, and hit the streets in search of Thai food. As the weekend wore on, we added Greek, Mexican, and Chinese to our cuisine, satiating those cultural cravings that itch like hell when you live in a town that specializes in burgers and beer (even if it IS exceptional meat and mircrobrews).

Speaking of cravings, we also filled our urban hiking cup to the brim. The best part about cities is that you can walk and walk and walk, and still see something new, vibrant, unique, or bizarre around every corner. I love that my girlfriends love walking as much as I do, and that we had the same chill exploratory agenda for the weekend.

On Sunday, we trekked over 8 miles, stopping to sample premium green tea, Vietnamese coffee, falafel, artwork, thrift stores, a brewery, a roller skate park, and — of course — beaches. The 3 of us all love the ocean, and you could tell: we cartwheeled near the water line, did headstands in the sand, and tried to absorb as much salt-water-laden goodness as our eyes, skin, and hearts could hold. These memories will feed us through the long Montana winter.

The highlight of our urban hike was walking the length of Golden Gate Park, where we had the pleasure of meeting these Barbies in a Boat. I’ll end here because — in a lot of ways — these 3 Barbies happily jetting around sunny San Francisco symbolize how I felt with Gillie and Jo this past weekend: carefree, fun, free, and easy.

A Few Photos From San Fran:

Community and Culture, Hiking, Sailing

Loving Montana Over Labor Day Weekend

Even though the fires make for good sunsets, they’re hell on throats and positive attitudes. The Friday night before the long holiday weekend over Labor Day found Missoula wreathed in mood-dampening smoke. We decided to get out of dodge.

Rob, Cassidy, and I took off Saturday to the northern Mission Mountains for an overnight backpack to Mollman Lakes. We hiked in from the Tribal Wilderness side, which is straight up (and I do mean straight) from the valley floor. We drove the little red truck through the forest on a sort-of road, plowing over massive rocks and around cedar branches.

After 5 miles and 3,500 feet, we arrived at Mollman pass and gazed out at the craggy Mission cliffs, and two sinuous deep blue lakes spread out before us. Our friend, Derek, was already there, and snagged the best campsite. Three more friends rolled in an hour later. The dogs were in heaven. One-night backpacks are awesome: our packs were less than 20 pounds, and it felt like we flew up the trail. We saw a small black bear on a scree field, and plenty of bear poop on the trail. We only passed two other groups (a regular thoroughfare, compared to most wilderness hikes in Montana): one group were acquaintances, and the other was a pack of Amish boyscouts hiking out from the lakes.

A full moon rose over the rocky cliffs as we joked around a campfire in the cold air at our 7,000-foot elevation. After three hilarious tries, and two broken ropes, we managed to hang the ~50 pounds of food for 7 people and 2 dogs.

Our friends stayed in another night to fish and laze on rocks, while Rob and I hiked out and drove north another 40 miles to Flathead Lake and our sailboat.

The wind was whipping. We made it to the east end of Wild Horse Island in record time, docking at a friend’s cabin for a quick happy hour visit. From the dock, we pointed to Mollman Pass, rising sharply out of the lake to the south, and told them about our night in the woods.

Waving farewell at sunset, Rob and I had a quick sail to the protected Skeeko Bay. We nestled our anchor in a free spot near shore, counting a record 14 boats already anchored for the night. Party weekend. About an hour later, as we were making pasta in the cabin, another friend—our slip neighbor at Dayton Yacht Harbor—hailed us from his stand-up paddleboard. They’d anchored next to us, and he was shuttling their dog to shore for its evening pee. I slept well, lulled and comfortable with the gentle rock in Skeeko’s protected anchorage.

We woke up with a hike, a swim, and some knot-tying practice in the cockpit. Around noon, we headed back to the harbor to pick up another couple of friends (and a dog, of course), heading out for an afternoon of stand-up paddling, beers, swimming, and communal laughter.

All in all, another Montana Labor Day weekend spent exerting minimal labor and receiving much love from our community, our mountains, and our favorite lake.

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.