Adventure time
Conquering the literal and proverbial bunny slopes
I did not grow up in a hiking family. We sure as shit were not a turkey trot family, I think I went “skiing” twice from the ages of baby to teenager. The ideal way to spend a day out of doors was going to one of LA’s private beach clubs. Which did not include swimming in the actual ocean, don’t be crazy. It’s chilly in there. Once, we visited family friends in Canada and went banana boating on the lake… I was filled with sheer terror. Once, in my early twenties, I took a scuba diving course for a day and then went actual scuba diving the following day. When I got back to solid ground, I quite literally kissed it. If I’m being unclear, the outdoors were primarily for driving through on your way to somewhere. Indoors.
Then, when I was dating my now ex-husband, we attempted to “hike” Huayna Picchu, the mountain that overlooks Machu Picchu, in Peru. He was fine, of course. …But, put a finger down if you’ve ever had a full-blown panic attack on a very-tourist-friendly mountain, equipped with the right footwear and hanging on to actual handrails and ropes, while being lapped by teenagers on a field trip who are wearing jeans and Converse. It was, in my defense, probably the first time anyone had even suggested that I do something like walk up a mountain. A lovely Peruvian shaman and hiking guide stopped to ask if I was okay and, if I remember correctly, I asked him if anyone had ever been helicoptered back down. He laughed, I cried.
I made it to the top and then back down alive and in one piece, a shred of my dignity left somewhere up there gazing down at Machu Picchu for the rest of time.
A few years later, I was in Zambia and Zimbabwe preparing to swim in the Devil’s Pool, atop Victoria Falls. Given the Peruvian misadventure, you may be wondering why I’d ever sign up for something called the Devil’s fucking Pool. And I have no answer, besides a little misguided faith? Some rose colored glasses? I don’t know. But the Devil’s Pool? Turns out, no problem for me. To reach it, you swim across a section of the literal Falls hanging onto a rope so that you, ya know, don’t go over the edge. Didn’t faze me. I jumped into the Pool, posed for pictures, didn’t want to get out. Who even was I!? Bear Grylls, meet your competition.
A week or so later, I was in South Africa where I’d booked a hike to the top of Table Mountain. I’d been to Table Mountain once before, via cablecar of course, like a civilized person. To hike it was so…unnecessary? But after my Devil’s Pool success, I woke up early and joined our guide, barrel-chested. About 1/18th of our way up the mountain, she suggested we turn to look at the lovely first view out over the city. I practically got vertigo. She clocked my sudden change of heart and asked if I had any preexisting conditions that were worrying me. I said, no I’m 29 years old and very healthy. She said, “okay if it makes you feel any better I did this hike last week with a 70 year old man who’d had open-heart surgery just last year and he was fine.” Obviously that didn’t make me feel better.
Every 20 minutes or so, she’d check in with me. She was so kind and patient and I was inwardly freaking out. Outwardly, too. About halfway up, I started to say to myself (and I have truly no idea why this popped into my head), “just keep swimming”… like from the children’s movie Finding Nemo. I said it to myself over and over and over. It started to work. I loosened up a bit. I started to enjoy myself. But when I stumbled a little and got super scared again, I asked her if anyone had ever been helicoptered down. She laughed. I yelled “just keep swimming” to myself in my head. I have to say, when we reached the top of that huge fucking mountain I was ELATED. I was Rocky at the top of the Philly Museum of Art steps. Arms in the air, hugs from the guide.
Listen, I’m still a nervous little bird on skis, petrified even of the speed I pick up on a bunny slope. But it turns out that nature can be a pretty cool place to hang out and work through some stuff. I’ve graduated from nearly losing a friendship when we tried hiking Runyon together (Gray, thank you for still loving me!) to going on hikes around LA on my own. I’ve graduated from weeping with hillside fear to recently hiking in the Dolomites and the Atlas Mountains.
And in the process, I realized how much it was the physical representation of what had been going on for me mentally and emotionally.
On Table Mountain, I quite literally didn’t trust my own legs and feet to carry me to the top. At one point, the guide stopped me and said “what’s interesting is that you have very good instincts and very good balance, but you walk like you’re about to tumble all the way down at any moment.” She was talking about the hike, but boy did that message resonate far beyond just a hike. The way I didn’t trust my legs, I also didn’t trust my mind or my own decisions or my own opinions.
The same way that I have graduated from Runyon Canyon being my own personal Everest to happily nature-ing (floating in the Dead Sea! Exploring Wadi Rum! Paddleboarding in Mexico!) or hiking on nearly every trip I take, I’ve also graduated from worrying what everyone else thinks about my life to trusting in my own experience, building from my wants and needs. Whether that’s related to career, relationships, parenting, or literal hiking. It’s not that the hiking (literal and proverbial) has gotten easier or more predictable, not at all. Dating and work, specifically, have been the complete opposite of easy and predictable for me in the last 5+ years. It’s that I made it up Table Mountain. I made it down Huayna Picchu. Crying, yes. Heart beating out of my chest, for sure. Thinking with every other step that I’d be the first person helicoptered down, absolutely. But I’ve never once regretted trying to hike it, whatever it is.
And I still say “just keep swimming” to myself all the time.
Gimme links
On the recommendation of a friend, I’m reading Surviving Death and it’s absolutely FASCINATING.
I’m sorry, but he really crossed the line here.
Drooling over this recipe for a Galician pie with olives, tomatoes, tuna, and bell peppers.
On some of the newer rom coms to hit theaters and streamers, a quick yes or no from me with no further context: Love at First Sight yes. Anyone But You yes. Players god no. Upgraded yes. Happiness for Beginners, no.
I am very much not trying to make a statement about the crisis in Israel and Palestine and I am also very sure that that’s not what you come here for anyway. But this video from Bernie Sanders was really moving and important and worth the watch, if you’re so inclined.
Give yourself a beautiful few moments and listen to Aryana Rose’s story from The Moth. (If you haven’t already as I seem to be somewhat late to the party.)
He’s not wrong… (He is also v cute.)
I love this…
Currently booking: Aman Tokyo, Kinloch Lodge on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, Nayara Tented Camp in Costa Rica, The Berkeley in London, and Kalesma Mykonos…among many others. Work with me!
Signing off to help a client decide between Adler Ritten and Forestis Dolomites.
xoxo,
Nicole
LOVE THIS!!!
At first I thought the photo of Finn on the bunny slopes was you…could have been. Generational non hiking family here, glad you’re loving it! Off to Pilates, similar to hiking.