My First Time Backpacking in 30 Years

A Detour within a Detour.

Sometimes, life throws us unexpected curveballs, and we have to adapt and change course. Last week, I embarked on a Detour into the breathtaking Beartooth Mountains of southwest Montana. Accompanied by a group of amazing women - my Daring Darlings - this journey turned out to be a deeply personal experience.

Disconnecting from technology and immersing myself in nature had a profound effect on my well-being. It allowed me to breathe deeply and find serenity in stillness. I became more attuned to the beauty of nature, from the mesmerizing dawn to the chill of the morning air and the warmth of the afternoon sun. I even dared to plunge into glacial waters (yes, skinny dipping!) and discovered a strength within me that I hadn't realized existed. In nature, I found a profound sense of presence.

Although I hadn't backpacked in over 30 years, there was a sense of the unknown that both excited and frightened me.

Setting up camp in bear territory and taking responsibility for the safety of twelve people; grappling with the altitude in higher elevations; tackling a single-pitch rock wall outside of my comfort zone - these were all challenges that initially filled me with trepidation. However, as I took those first steps and embraced them one by one, my fears began to dissipate. I discovered that the slow and steady pace of hiking allowed me to process my worries and realize that they were often exaggerated in my mind. The initial hurdle of stepping out of my comfort zone turned out to be the hardest part, and once I started moving forward, my fear melted away.

Yet, one of the greatest challenges I faced was the way I spoke to myself. I had to consciously practice self-compassion and grace. In the wilderness, you must lean into your own strength and trust in yourself and those around you. Thankfully, I was surrounded by exceptional people who lifted me up and bolstered my trust in myself.

But the magic of the journey didn't end there.

Let me preface by saying that for every Detour, I meticulously plan with local experts and guides, often mapping out each day in precise detail. However, as I've come to realize, nature doesn't always adhere to our carefully crafted plans.

Our original intention was to hike the full West Fork Loop around the Silver Run Plateau. However, considering that almost all of our group members were coming from sea level, the strenuous elevation gain required to reach Sundance Summit would have been too much for some with their 30-pound backpacks and could have added several arduous hours to our hike. Recognizing this, our guides presented us with an alternative option. They proposed a sunrise hike for those who wanted to reach the summit, while the others could rest and recharge. Despite some of us having our hearts set on completing the full loop, everyone graciously accepted the modified plan.

We made the collective decision to forego the loop and embrace this detour within a detour. A group of us woke up at 2:30 am, equipped with headlamps and daypacks, and embarked on the pre-dawn hike. As we ascended in the darkness, anticipation and excitement filled the air. The twinkling stars above guided our way.

Finally, we reached the summit just as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. It was a moment of awe-inspiring beauty. We brewed coffee, shared laughter, and marveled as the mountains blushed pink under the warm embrace of the rising sun. The marmots chirped, their voices carried by the crisp mountain air as if acknowledging our presence and welcoming us to their domain.

At that moment, surrounded by the stunning landscape and the camaraderie of my fellow Darlings, a profound sense of ease and gratitude washed over me. I couldn't help but feel immensely proud of our group, of how we gracefully adapted to the changes and embraced the new path laid before us. We had loosened our grip on the original plan and embraced the unexpected with open hearts.

Perhaps one day, I will have the opportunity to return and hike the full West Fork Loop. But regardless of whether that happens or not, the memory of our sunrise summit will forever remain a touchstone for me. It serves as a reminder that sometimes the detours we encounter in life can lead to the most beautiful and rewarding moments. It reminds me to approach change with grace and to trust in the journey, even when it veers off the expected path.

As I sit here in the comfort of my home, I find myself yearning for the rugged beauty of the wilderness and the connection I shared with the remarkable women who accompanied me on this journey. I hold close the version of myself that I discovered in the mountains - the one who embraces fearlessness, presence, and compassion. She is the strength I will return to whenever faced with a change in plans, knowing that she will guide me through with grace and resilience.