In the last few weeks, I've had so many people ask me, "how do you have time for all of these adventures?"
I just got back from my third weekend in a row of camping, where I skipped class on Friday and Monday (sorry Mom and Dad), put about 1,000 miles on my car, and many miles on my feet. I came home to two papers that needed to be written, and frantically begin studying for my midterm exams in the coming weeks.
I'll admit it's starting to catch up to me a little bit.
Leaving Boulder every weekend, and thus temporarily escaping my academic responsibilities, has kept me sane this semester. But it does make for some busy weekdays.
Last weekend, I led a Hiking Club trip to the San Rafael Swell in the middle of Utah. Our first desert trip of the semester, we were stoked to be in warmer weather with blue skies and lots of cool rocks.
On Saturday we hiked a still-debated number of miles through the Little Grand Canyon in the Swell, which took us about ten hours. We descended into the canyon around noon, where to me the fact that we would be ending our hike in the dark quickly became obvious. I made sure to pack my headlamp.
We crossed the San Rafael River twelve or thirteen times. We hiked up to one side canyon, took lots of photos, and admired the light shining down through the top of the canyon and onto the glowing red sandstone. We came across a herd of cattle. We were shook by one of the cows—whose body was black, and face was white, and stared us down for several minutes while we were deciding the best possible route around the herd. We bushwhacked our way through sections with no trail and slipped on steep riverbanks of mud.
The sun sank over the canyon walls around 6:00. We still had at two river crossings, and at least five miles left before we reached our camp at the end of the canyon.
At this point, I was becoming frustrated. I wasn't feeling the hike in the dark, where we had to find appropriate points to cross the river and search for the trail. I was hungry, and getting tired. Not everyone had a headlamp. I'm sure my frustration was obvious to some, but I did my best to keep my cool.
Of course, we made it across the river the last time, and finished our last few miles in the dark. The moon cast fantastic shadows on the canyon walls, we'd stop every few miles to turn off our lights and admire the serenity and silence of the desert night.
After leading several club trips this semester, I've begun to understand what my love for the Hiking Club really means. I remember that as an ordinary member, the club was a way for me to simply push my boundaries and step out of my comfort zone. I remember my first accidental hike in the dark. It was also deep in the Utah desert, with one of the same officers, with an unknown number of miles left to go. I remember how accomplished I felt once we made it back to camp.
Selfishly as an officer, I can now say that my favorite part of the CU Hiking Club is watching other people do the same. Pushing comfort zones is what makes us grow as human beings. Those times of exceeding our own preconceived limits not only makes for great stories, but also for perfect times to connect to other humans. The desert is an especially good place for that. I loved watching my new friends struggle and succeed through river crossings, hike more miles than they ever have before, and become speechless by the natural wonders that the desert has to offer. I definitely had moments of uncertainty, but reminded myself that these are the moments where we can fundamentally change.
I'm incredibly thankful to be a part of such an amazing group, to be able to spend a weekend in the desert, and to be able to learn from my constant adventures.