Yosemite Chronicles: I read Grandma Gatewood's Walk

The most interesting question one can ever ask is: “Why?” It yields the most interesting answers. What, who, when, where, and how reveal facts, but why gets at motivations, relationships, and fundamental truths. So, why did Emma Gatewood, at 67, walk the entire 2,050 mile Appalachian Trail? Why did she go alone? Why did she tell no one she was going? Why did she persevere through hurricanes, lack of shelter, and injury? We’ll probably never know.

Grandma Gatewood’s Walk chronicles the what, who, when, where, and how of Emma’s journey through her journal entries, family interviews, and the accounts of those who met her along the way. She was 41 years dead when this book was written, so the author had no opportunity to ask her why she’d done it. In interviews during her walk (and second walk on the AT and subsequent long hikes), she always evaded the “why” question with a pat answer. “I’m a great lover of the outdoors.” “Just for the heck of it.” “I decided to take a walk - one I always wanted to take.” “I thought it would be fun.” None of the answers are satisfactory.

Maybe it was because, in her decades-long marriage to an abusive husband, the woods were the only place that made her feel safe. Maybe it was, after raising 11 children, she just wanted to do something for and by herself. Maybe it was an act of defiance against the inevitability of aging and physical decline.

Similarly, I don’t have a good answer for the “why” of my own wild summer. Maybe I’m revisiting the happy days of my youth. Maybe I’m rebelling against our overly complicated and industrialized lives. Maybe it’s my own way of saying “fuck you” to getting old.

As any six-year-old will tell you, if you keep asking “why,” you eventually get to an answer of “I don’t know.” And maybe that’s the real appeal of why. It’s the one question that eventually gets to the mysteries of the universe. It’s the one question that leaves us wondering and speculating and imagining. Spend a few days reading Grandma Gatewood’s Walk for the facts of her remarkable journey and then spend the rest of your life wondering . . . “why?”

Montgomery, B. (2014). Grandma Gatewood’s Walk. Chicago, IL: Chicago Review Press, Incorporated.

Yosemite Chronicles: I read One Man's Wilderness

In our current renaissance of homemade and homegrown, One Man’s Wilderness is as in touch with the Zeitgeist as when first published in 1973. At 51, Richard Proennneke arranged to be dropped off in the Alaskan wilderness, alone, with nothing but hand tools and a few supplies. He began building his log cabin on May 22nd and had it complete with moss-topped roof, stone fireplace, and dutch door by the end of September. The book continues through the long winter and following summer until he returns to the Midwest the next autumn to care for his aging father. In the meantime, he builds a cache (an adorable replica of his cabin, but on stilts), makes everything from hinges to dishes with empty gas cans, and attempts to domesticate a wolverine.

I must admit, I was in constant awe of Dick’s skills, strength, and stamina. He seemed capable of building and fixing anything. I had trouble following all the engineering details of even building a simple log cabin. My back ached as he described packing a ram down the mountain in two heavy loads. I shivered in the Yosemite summer evening as I read of his winter outings at negative thirty-four degrees. He makes my summer adventure seem about as daring and complicated as a trip to Disneyland.

I admire Dick, but his experience was so far beyond my own that I didn’t identify with him until one of the last chapters. In the "Reflections" chapter, I found myself nodding in agreement with Dick’s observations on possessions, physical activity, and eating habits. As dissimilar as our actual experiences are, I've come to some of the same conclusions as Dick about modern life.

Possessions: although this book was written forty-three years ago, Dick had already identified Americans’ surplus of “stuff.” He was perfectly content with the $40 of supplies he had flown in and everything he had built with the trees and stones of the land. I’ve been similarly satisfied with the items that fit in my car for the summer. I don’t miss my wardrobe, kitchen, furniture or any of the knickknacks that fill my house. I wonder what Dick would have thought of all the electronic toys that fill our lives, today. I am grateful to have my laptop, phone, DSLR, and GoPro with me, but don’t miss the television one bit. Dick wasn’t a total Luddite; he did bring binoculars, a spotting scope, a tripod, an 8mm movie camera, and a 35mm reflex camera. But who needs all that other crap? Thinking about all my “stuff” at home makes me feel claustrophobic. I have plans to lighten my load when I return and purchase less.

Physical activity: Dick found great satisfaction in the daily physical work of providing for his own shelter, heat, and food. How many of us can say that we built our own houses, chopped our own wood, and grew/hunted/fished our own food? Of course, one of the benefits of modern society is that we don’t have to do these things and, instead, can focus on higher pursuits like science, art, and the general betterment of the human race. But that lack of physical connection to our daily needs leaves us fat and unsatisfied. There’s a balance to be found and Dick’s story has inspired me to outsource less of my own daily maintenance. I am planning to ride my bicycle more and maybe even grow some food.

Eating habits: Dick’s diet was pretty much the same every day. It consisted of oatmeal, beans, fish, game, and sourdough pancakes or biscuits. For variety, he had blueberries, cranberries, fireweed greens, and the odd vegetable he grew in his garden. It was a limited diet, but he didn’t mind. He just “season[ed] simple food with hunger.” I’ve been hiking an average of nine miles a day and, even with that level of activity, I inwardly groan when I’m confronted with the fourth dinner in a row of gnocchi with pesto and vegan sausage. We modern people have been conditioned to expect variety and excitement with every meal. But maybe we need to view food as fuel instead of entertainment. Again, there’s a balance to be had between monotony and complaining that you just had Mexican food for lunch yesterday.

One Man’s Wilderness is aspirational, but it’s inspirational, too. The actual events of his Alaskan adventure are nothing I feel I’ll ever be able to replicate (I won’t be field dressing a mountain sheep - EVER), but the lessons learned are applicable to anyone’s life.

Keith, S. and Proenneke, R. (1973). One Man’s Wilderness. Anchorage, AK: Alaska Northwest Pub. Co.

Yosemite Chronicles: I read Soul Deep in Horses

I met Merri fresh from the Seattle racetracks. She was lean and incredibly strong from tossing bales, hauling water, brushing horses, and whatever else grooms do at the horse track. (Obviously, I’m not a horsey person. But Merri is.) She put those muscles to work on our Humboldt-Toiyabe trail crew and left me in awe of her strength and endurance. While her body worked the trail, though, her eyes always lingered on the horses. Horses were her past and they would be her future.

Our former boss gave me a copy of Merri’s book, Soul Deep in Horses. Since I’d left trail crew, eighteen years ago, he told me she had gone on to work with pack stock and was now doing some sort of endurance racing. I was surprised that she continued working with horses, because I also knew of a nearly life-ending injury she’d sustained (kick to the face) from her beloved horses during the intervening years.

Knowing of her racing background and present, I was hesitant to read the book. I was impressed with the glamour of her racetrack job eighteen years ago, but I’d learned the harsh realities of racing more recently. Beneath the glitz of glossy muscles, fancy hats, and mint juleps, lies outright animal abuse. How could my horse-loving friend have returned to such cruelty?

It turns out that I should have had more faith in Merri. Her book hopscotches through time and across continents to follow her own, beautiful arc. She goes from a girl who knew all the winners of the Triple Crown to a racehorse groom yearning to overcome her fear of galloping in order to become an exercise rider to an international traveler learning the harsh realities of Irish jump racing to a nervous horse-packer in the Sierra Nevada. She leaves working horses behind to simply enjoy riding in Egypt, Zimbabwe, and New Zealand. I cheered for her as she conquered her fear of galloping and found a new passion: endurance racing. (The book is not in chronological order, so I may have the order of events a bit out of line.)

Unlike traditional, track racing, endurance racing is a humane sport emphasizing the bond between rider and horse. Teams complete trail rides of 50 or 100 miles with frequent vet checks and breaks for rest, food and water. The motto of the American Endurance Ride Conference is “to finish is to win.” By Merri’s account, endurance racing is an excuse to get away from it all and spend some time in the wilderness with your horse buddy. The “race” is incidental.

I’m so happy for my friend to have found her horsey groove. I got to know her better through her engaging writing and fantastic stories. The title of her book is Soul Deep in Horses, but it’s Merri’s heart that shines in this collection of essays.

Melde, M. (2014). Soul Deep in Horses: Memoir of an equestrian vagabond. Murphy, ID: The Equestrian Vagabond.

Yosemite Chronicles: I read The High Sierra

I’ve always thought Time-Life books were something to page through, bored, at my Grandma’s house while she watched Perry Mason. I’d flip through the pages, looking at the photos, but never, ever reading the text. In fact, I thought those books were all pictures and captions. Until reading (yes, reading) The High Sierra, I didn’t realize there was more to the books than pretty pictures.

Not only does the book have text, it’s good text. I’m not sure why I was so surprised by the quality of the writing, but I was. Ezra Bowen pulls the reader into his mounted Sierran journeys with keen observations, crisp descriptions, and a little of that cowboy attitude. I appreciate the history and naturalist text, but it’s Bowen’s opinions that entertained me most. He comes across as a crotchety old man complaining about how his wilderness is being taken over by dirty hippies with backpacks and lazy people in cars. I found myself nodding along, especially when I was visiting some of the more crowded areas. Bowen writes:

...most of the sightseers, lured to the area by its reputation and by its relative convenience to heavily populated metropolitan areas of California, arrive to experience only a brief and superficial encounter with the beauty of Yosemite. There are still a few such as the visitor who was heard to snarl at her husband, “Now I don’t want to hear NOTHIN’ about flora, fauna, or geology, understand?”

Written in 1972, the issues he grouses about are the same that plague the area today: overuse and development. Purists complain that the wildernesses are “too available.” Conflict between horse and hiker use continues. “Is a park a natural museum or a natural resort?” Reflecting on my own visits this summer to Yosemite and Sequoia, I’m starting to favor a daily car entry quota for the more popular parks.

Some of the conflicts have been lost to history. For instance, who knew that Walt Disney Productions planned to build a ski and summer resort in the Mineral King Valley that would have included a multilane access road through part of the Sequoia National Park? (The current highway though the park, The Generals Highway, is two lanes and steep and winding.) The Sierra Club blocked the development long enough for the area to be added to national park status, ending the plan.

Although the book is now 44 years old, I found it a good companion for my summer. As expected, I saw pretty pictures and learned a little about Sierra science and history. As not expected, I was prompted to contemplate the politics of the region. In the end, it left me hopeful. Currently, more of the Sierra is protected in wilderness status than shown in the 1972 map. Wildlife is rebounding. New restrictions and limits on use protect sensitive and popular areas. We are successfully being kept from “loving our wilderness to death.”

Next time you’re at your Grandma’s, don’t just flip through the pages of her Time-Life Books collection; pause to read a little. You might be surprised at what you find.

Bowen, E. (1972). The High Sierra. New York, NY: Time-Life Books.

Yosemite Chronicles: I read Yes Man

I don’t know how often you can say that a Jim Carrey movie changed your life, but that’s how I feel about Yes Man. It didn’t have that impact right away. When I first saw the movie, I laughed at Jim Carrey’s typical physical silliness and longed after Zooey Deschanel’s quirkiness, but subsequently dismissed the movie from my mind. It wasn’t until I began my 40 B4 40 project that the movie’s message returned to my consciousness: say yes!

I was a few months into my project and my yeses when I heard the quote “life begins at the end of your comfort zone” (Neale Donald Walsch). This rang so true. Sometimes my 40 B4 40 adventures were outside my comfort zone and sometimes they led to other experiences outside my comfort zone, but the discomfort was always worth it. I felt more engaged with life. This reminded me of Yes Man and I rewatched the movie, enjoying it as more of a philosophical statement. It reaffirmed my commitment to the project and saying yes more.

I’ve certainly stepped outside of my comfort zone this summer: saying yes to quitting my job and three months of wilderness. As I selected reading material for my trip, I found a copy of Yes Man (the book that inspired the movie) at the thrift store and said yes to adding it to my stack.

Upon reading it, I was surprised to learn how loosely the movie plot is tied to the book. Despite the differences, though, the message is the same: move beyond your comfort zone. I was three-quarters finished with the book when I realized that the narrator’s name is the same as the author’s. Wait? What? Was this not a fiction book? Nope. The story of Yes Man is true as told by Danny Wallace. This made it all the more powerful and relatable.

Some of my favorite lessons from Yes Man:

On saying yes: “It [has] the power to to change lives and set people free . . . It [has] the power of adventure. Sometimes the little opportunities that fly at us every day can have the biggest impact.”

On saying no: “Some people go through their whole lives saying yes over and over again - yes to things that allow other people to take advantage of them . . . Some people need to learn how to say no. Because every time they say yes, they say no to themselves.”

On fear: “People sometimes go through their lives having fears . . . People are always saying no to things, aren’t they? They’re frightened of change, used to routine, used to doing things a certain way. . . They don’t realise they’re putting a real limitation on their lives.”

On change: “When you think about it, probably some of the best things that have ever happened to you in life happened because you said yes to something. Otherwise things just sort of stay the same.”

On control: “[Let] your Yes moments lead the way. Because actually we don’t even have control in the first place. It’s a myth. In life absolutely anything can happen.”

On coincidence: “Coincidence does not exist! . . . The world knows what it is doing . . . There are connections everywhere. Sometimes we are brought to certain points and we do not know why.”

My 40 B4 40 project ended last November and I fell out of the yes habit as I prepared to leave my job and planned this summer sabbatical. Sometimes, you need to say no in order to focus on a goal. But that’s got to be balanced with some spontaneous yeses, and reading Yes Man reminded me that this is the time to “say yes more.”

Wallace, D. (2005). Yes Man. New York, NY: Simon Spotlight Entertainment.

Yosemite Chronicles: I read Finding Flow

Ironically, those that most need to read self help books are the ones least likely to do so. I speak from experience. For nearly the first forty years of my life, I was sure the genre was for neurotic, lonely, losers. When I caught an acquaintance or friend with a self help book, I was ashamed for them. That person must be weak and broken. I was strong and whole. I didn’t need that hokum.

My aversion to the (now called) self improvement genre began to crumble when I started listening to podcasts. As my subscription list grew, I was sneakily introduced to new models of thinking about all aspects of health: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Through others’ stories and advice offered, I became more introspective. I started considering my own emotional reactions from a different point of view. I took a closer look at how my values align with my actions. What is really driving the decisions I make? How can I live a more fulfilling life?

This sort of introspection can be painful. I think that’s why I avoided anything remotely smacking of “self help” for so long. It can be devastating to take a close look at one’s self and realize that one’s foundational beliefs are wrong or harmful. But once you’re over that hump, self improvement is a fascinating and addicting activity. (And it certainly can go too far into the navel-gazing realm. All things in moderation.)

Those that would most benefit from Finding Flow: the psychology of engagement with everyday life have a double hurdle to overcome. First, it’s a self help book. Second, it requires quite a bit of concentration to read this dry book about the value of concentration. If you don’t already have some flow in your life, you’d probably rather watch The Kardashians. But those interested in self improvement who value flow activities (like myself), will have no trouble getting through it.

Highlights of Finding Flow:

Flow is a “sense of effortless action.” “Athletes refer to it as ‘being in the zone,” religious mystics as being in ‘ecstasy,’ artists and musicians as aesthetic rapture.” Flow experiences have common characteristics of high challenge requiring high skill (and thus high concentration).

US teens and adults spend their time as follows:

Productive activities (Total: 24-60%)
20-45% Working or studying
4-15% Talking, eating, daydreaming while at work

Maintenance activities (Total: 20-42%)
8-22% Housework
3-5% Eating
3-6% Grooming
6-9% Transportation

Leisure Activities (Total: 20-43%)
9-13% Media (TV and reading)
4-13% Hobbies, sport, movies, restaurants
4-12% Talking, socializing
3-5% Idling, resting

Beyond the poverty threshold, more money does not equal more happiness.

“The quality of life does not depend on happiness alone, but also on what one does to be happy.”

“Without dreams, without risks, only a semblance of living can be achieved”

We experience flow when engaged in the following activities: working/studying, driving, talking/socializing/sex. We experience the most flow when engaged in hobbies and sports. We experience the least flow when doing housework or watching TV.

I was especially intrigued by the author’s explanation of how talking and socializing are flow activities. Even as an introvert, I find flow (if not energy) in these activities and this has puzzled me. This is because interacting (well) with others requires a high degree of skill and concentration. I have found that the more invested I am in an interaction with someone, the more I enjoy it and the more it becomes a flow activity. I overcome my own introversion by approaching social interactions as a game of skill. (A game in which all participants can win!)

Reading is as low on flow as TV, if the book is unchallenging. The author has a very low opinion of formulaic fiction books like romances and mysteries. Conversely, I don’t think TV watching is necessarily low flow, if one chooses a program that engages the mind and one is completely focused on it.

Active leisure (skilled hobbies) is the historic source of human scientific and artistic accomplishments. Gregory Mendel, Ben Franklin, and Emily Dickinson produced their bodies of work during their free time, before their fields became professionalized. Americans have lost this tradition of active leisure. “To make the best use of free time, one needs to devote as much ingenuity and attention to it as one would to one’s job.”

Regarding work: “In terms of the bottom line of one’s life, it is always a better deal to do something one feels good about than something that may make us materially comfortable but emotionally miserable.”

The biggest flaw in the book, besides the rather dry writing, is that the author doesn’t present a compelling case to find flow. In his research, flow never equalled happiness. It didn’t equal unhappiness, either. He attempts to make a philosophical/moral case for flow in the last chapter, but I wasn’t convinced. In the end, I seek flow in my life for the sake of flow. It gives me a feeling of satisfaction. Personally, I take satisfaction over happiness or heaven any day.

If you’re interested in living a more satisfying, flow-driven life, I recommend giving this book a spin. Chapter eight, The Autotelic Personality, will inspire you to find reward in the experience of all your life activities, including housework, to fill your days with flow. You’ll find a new disdain for TV (although some rest and recovery in life is required, like staring idly at the sky while swinging in one's hammock) and an increased desire for productivity.

Of course, if you think self help is for sissies, just give this one a pass.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1997). Finding Flow: the psychology of engagement with everyday life. New York, NY: BasicBooks.

Yosemite Chronicles: I read Food for the Settler

My favorite bits of old-timey stories are descriptions of the meals and medicine. I’m not sure how veracious those descriptions are, but I am ready to believe people drank beer instead of water and starved their fevers. Food for the Settler is a children’s book, so there is no mention of our ancestors' alcoholic tendencies or the more macabre medical procedures. However, I quite enjoyed the descriptions of the settlers’ lives and the recipes.

The book covers every food group (from game to berries to maple syrup), every eating occasion (everyday, “bees,” and holidays), and the tools required (just be glad we have modern kitchens). It includes recipes (adapted to modern ingredients, but, oddly, with all measurements in milliliters) and reproductions of period art (with cheeky commentary).

Some of my favorite tidbits from Food for the Settler:

Children were not allowed to sit at the table! The adults sat and the children stood behind them, holding plates and hoping for scraps. I’m thinking of adopting this tradition next time I have children over for a meal.

Butter was not made by putting cream in a mason jar and passing it from person to person for a shake. (That’s the way we did it in my 4th grade homeroom. Then we spread the butter on Saltines. Delicious.) Okay, I knew old-timey butter was made in a churn, but did you know that the resulting butter is washed with water over and over again until it runs clear? From the pictures in the book, this looks like a huge pain in the ass. Aren’t you glad butter comes in cubes from the store?

The first stoves were very low to accommodate the large cooking vessels settlers already owned for cooking over an open fire. As pots became smaller and lighter, stovetops got higher! I had never even considered that stoves were ever a different height than at present.

I usually read Food for the Settler after dinner, swinging in my hammock, imagining making each of the recipes. As tempting as Stewed Celery with Cream and Bubble and Squeak sound, there is only one recipe that I am seriously considering. Reprinted below, without permission:

Plum Pudding (interestingly, containing no plums)

250 ml light raisins
250 ml dark raisins
500 ml currants
200 ml grated orange and lemon peel
200 ml cooking sherry
250 ml grated carrots
500 ml suet, finely chopped
1.5 L bread crumbs
60 ml flour
300 ml brown sugar
2 ml mace
2 ml nutmeg
5 ml ginger
8 eggs, well beaten

About 4 weeks before Christmas mix the first 4 ingredients together in a bowl. Pour cooking sherry over top of fruit. Let the fruit soak for about 1 week in the sherry. Stir the fruit often during the course of the week. Mix all of the other ingredients together with your fruit. Mix well. Tie the dough into a cloth firmly, but leave enough room for the mixture to swell. Boil it in the cloth for at least 5 hours. Do not let it stop boiling. Store the pudding at least 3 weeks in a cool, dry place to develop full flavor. On Christmas day, steam pudding 30-45 minutes. Serve with hard sauce.

I’m not sure where I’ll find suet or if this recipe will be totally disgusting, but I’m intrigued.

Food for the Settler didn’t give me many ideas for my meals this summer, but it gave me a new appreciation for store-bought food and my camp stove.

As for those old-timey medicines, Bobbie Kalman also wrote Early Health and Medicine (available on Amazon)!

Kalman, B. (1989). Food for the Settler. New York, NY: Crabtree Publishing Company.

Deanna Raybourn

Blouse, Merona. Skirt, Talbot’s (thrifted). Necklace, Newport News. Belt, Claire’s. Bag, Caprice (thrifted and vintage). Shoes, Bongo (thrifted and gifted).

I get a few readers sent my way each week courtesy of deannaraybourn.com. Curious, I checked out the source and found that, in March, she linked to me in the blog portion of her site. Deanna Raybourn is the author of the Lady Julia Gray mystery series. As I am not a fan of mysteries (they make me feel stupid), I had not read her books nor did I plan to do so.

While I was props mistress for a show in May, one of the castmembers remarked that I looked Felicia Day of Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. When I finally got a chance to watch the episodes, I agreed there was a resemblance (although it is limited to the [then] red hair and big eyes). Bored one day, I checked out Felicia Day’s blog and was particularly interested in her post on the books she’s reading. We seemed to have similar taste, so I added a few of her reads to my hold list at the library.

The first book, Armed & Magical, was as awful as the title suggests. The second book, was the start of the Lady Julia Gray series: Silent in the Grave. To my surprise, I’m enjoying it. And, so, it all comes full circle.


(I skipped Felicia’s recommendation of the Kate Daniels series. I’d read Magic Bites on Amazon’s recommendation and did not enjoy it.)