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Compelling Trails

"Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better." Albert Einstein

Yoga Teacher Training – Selecting the right course and my experience

Aligning postures, theorising Indian philosophy and bonding with a group through harmonious ‘Om’ chanting. These were some components that made up the 200-hour yoga teacher-training course.

Before my research began, I envisaged myself undertaking this training in the place where yoga began; surrounded by gurus, colour, spices and aromas, in the foothills of the Himalayas. However I didn’t want to close myself off to other options, as I wanted to find a course that would best benefit me. A friend put me in touch with her uncle; a well regarded yogi amongst the Australian yoga community. We exchanged emails, honing down on what I wanted out of the training, and he gave a variety of options based on his knowledge. The results were predominately housed in western countries, and in his opinion they gave the most successful pathway to establish a yogic lifestyle. Some of the institutes he listed, not just in Australia, but, Canada and America; are considered some of the best yoga institutions in the world. As I read into these options, I found myself coming across the same setbacks. I endeavoured to break down my requirements; this is what I came up with:

  • I wanted the training to be capped around ~$2,000, which ruled out most training facilities I looked at within Australia and the US.
  • Given my job is seasonal, I wanted an intensive course (1-3 months ideally).
  • I wanted to take practice Hatha, but this wouldn’t be a deciding factor.

Screen Shot 2018-06-22 at 2.40.19 pmHaving considered this basic criterion, my thoughts kept returning to the place where it all began. In India, I was sure to find a plethora of courses available well within budget, a huge range of timings available, as well as course offerings. I used Yoga Alliance as my search engine and scoured website after website looking for compatible courses. I landed on a few that looked good, and soon narrowed my options down to one. It was a course run by IYMS (Internation Yoga and Meditation Society), and hosted at the Avdhoot Ashram in Rishikesh; it satisfied all my criteria.

From here the count was on, and after landing in Delhi, all logistics would be handed over to IYMS. They organised airport transfers, so upon exiting the terminal, I met with an IYMS representative who ushered me to a bus, explaining there would be another IYMS rep to meet me at the other end. I spent a couple of days settling into the ashram, as the remainder of my class slowly filtered in. At our full group’s arrival, the commencement of the course was finally with us. Very few of us had any idea when or where we were required to be for the initial gathering, but we managed to work it out amongst ourselves.

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We sat for the opening ceremony on a well kempt lawn within the walls of the ashram. We sat in circle under the shade of a fruit-bearing tree, looking from face to face as the fire at our centre was lit and traditions of chanting, colour and aromas followed suit. We all felt extremely lucky to have such incredibly encouraging peers to complete the training with. There were 12 of us whom completed the course; a nice small number compared to many yoga schools in the area. Very quickly we became immersed in the day-to-day structure of the course. Our days consisted of:

  • Pranayama (breathing and cleansing practices);
  • Hatha and Ashtanga (asana postures);
  • Anatomy;
  • Philosophy (yoga and Indian philosophy);
  • Meditation; and
  • The odd lesson in Ayurvedic naturopathy.

The days were well structured with a few breaks for study or rest. The food was great, although low in proteins and fats; it took time for my body to adjust to a vegetarian diet, and burn through the physicality of each day.

It was just a couple of days in to Hatha and Ashtanga practice that I realised the intensity of the asana classes, and felt disheartened by my lack of preparation for the course. It was interesting for me to consider, as in my line of work I am constantly faced with people that have insufficiently prepared for a trip, and the toll it has on them; and I was now faced with the burdens of being underprepared. Thankfully, I was not in this position alone, almost half of the group was suffering the same fate. We pushed through together; we became a beacon of support, a string of encouragement. Everyday we pushed ourselves a little harder in our practice, and we would admire the progress of the group from days into weeks. Hatha translates to force, or to hold. This class became the emotional epicentre for the course, as we stretched our bodies to be held in a posture, and with every slow and agonising exhalation we pushed ourselves deeper in to the stretch. My body is naturally inflexible, so this class challenged me the most. For those that have practiced yoga for sometime, you may understand the emotional baggage that can be found in a deep stretch. Some days I found myself on the brink of tears, other times I unleashed into uncontrollable bouts of laughter. As this is the class that aims to deepen a posture, its intensity can be felt no matter your level, it also means, there is always room for growth. Ashtanga practice on the other hand, would test our strength and endurance. We were encouraged to develop a deep connection between our breath and posture, and it was demonstrated to us with precision. We learnt of the finer details to each posture, and all knowledge that time allowed to be imparted on us, was shared. Day one, we were introduced ‘yogi food’ which became part of our daily practice. It was a flow of postures repeated 10 times at the end of sun salutation A and sun salutation B. You could consider this a boot camp for sun salutations. It was hard work, my arms would tremble until they gave up on me, and beading sweat, turned watercourses working towards the ground. With every class, we tried to limit our rests and push ourselves a little harder than the day before, it became the class that defined us. Like a tree planting its roots, our endurance grew with strength over time, but it was our own initiate that pursued it.

As for the other components of the course, they varied greatly in challenge and content. For all theoretical, pranayama and meditation classes, we sat on our yoga mats. Having grown up with very little exposure to sitting for prolonged periods of time, and finding stillness to that end; enduring a seated position for the duration of these classes was a constant challenge. Anatomy was pertinent in the way our teacher consistently drew parallels between slides up on the wall with the many yoga streams we were learning. We delved into more topics than I anticipated, and felt the class to be of great benefit to the overall course. In philosophy, we splintered the conscious from unconscious mind. We held confronting discussions over the hierarchal societal cast systems that still exists within many parts of India. And spoke of goals, and the pathway to clarity; which opened the room to insightful yet often contentious discussions. In pranayama, we trialled different breathing techniques that had varying results on our lung capacity, and cleansing techniques that aimed at purging our bodies of natural build up. fullsizeoutput_70c

The cleansing techniques were considerably more testing to wrap our heads around. fullsizeoutput_70bWe started off lightly; feeding salty water through the spout of our Jeli Neti pots: in one nostril, and out the other. This progressed to feeding a rubber tube up one nostril and out through the mouth. We amped up to digestion cleansing, one which involved drinking salty water, followed by a set of asanas, this promoted an almost instantaneous flush of the system. Some of these practices seemed unnecessary and daunting to my western mind, but I was always happy to give them a go and see the outcome. Every day, in almost every class we opened and closed with Om and Mantra chanting. Never before had I experienced the elevation that can be achieved through Om chanting, where your voice gets lost amongst the sounds of every other around you. It became one of my favourite experiences in the course. There was a fine line between the enjoyment and displeasure of Om chanting though, as it lied entirely on the syncing of voices, and could be an excruciating to the senses when the pitch was off. During meditation we would lose ourselves to the delightful chants for up to 10 short minutes, before being transfixed by the recurring voice of our teacher, coaxing us to relax into Shavasana.

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As with many experiences in life, there were many ups and downs; this course more of less, surpassed my expectations in most ways. The assessment criterion was not daunting, it took place in a relaxed and supportive environment, which encouraged us to test our skills and try diverse teaching techniques. I appreciated the classes ranging from the physical to the spiritual. There were certain components that I didn’t necessarily agree with, for example yoga philosophy, which I akin to religion in many ways. But that is the beauty of yoga practice; it is to every individual a different experience and way of life, adopt from it what works for you. I set out to complete this training as a way to enhance my own practice, and build upon a set of skills, which could be used to share with my clients. My goal has been achieved, for I have been practicing regularly and cannot wait to get back to work, to share a class after a day on the trail.

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Wrangell – St. Elias National Park, Alaska

Type of Tour: Backpacking

Duration of Tour: 5 Days

Location: Wrangell – St. Elias National Park, Alaska

Tour Operator: St. Elias Alpine Guides

Cost of Tour: US$950

Time of Year: July (Summer)

Overall Experience: 10/10

Would I recommend this Tour? Absolutely!

Link: http://www.steliasguides.com/trip/glacier-and-tundra-backpack-trip/

I was just a few days into the beginning of a near 3 month holiday, and what better place to be than Alaska!!? Over the 5 days that followed I embarked on an excursion with St. Elias Alpine Guides, where I witnessed the untamed beauty of Alaska and lived adventure beyond anything I had previously known.

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Day One

I met the group I would grow to love in a short 5 days; our group consisted of two guides Melissa and Chris, and all first time travellers to Alaska; Annie, Kelly, Yara, Luc, Lara and myself. We did our final pack, dispersing tents amongst our pairs, finding space for bear canisters and attaching (what the hell are they!?) crampons (oh.) to our packs. We were then bound for the airstrip located a couple of kilometres up the road, where we were greeted by Wrangell Mountain Air pilots who would take us out in single or two passenger bush planes to an area called The Fosse. I was flown out on the second last plane, and with fairly hefty mountains staring us in the face, I was amazed that the pilot needed only a few short meters to become airborne. 20 minutes later I was dropped at The Fosse where a few of my comrades stood waiting; from this location we would spend 5 days crossing tundra meadows, rugged glaciers, treacherous moraine, and dense forests before making it back to civilisation, and we were all pretty excited to make a start.

From the drop off point we walked on moraine until we reached a grassy meadow with a natural spring; we sat for a short while learning the plants that inhabit the area, and after replenishing our water supplies, we got back to walking. The terrain was different to anything I had walked across before; from tundra (moss like grass that covers the earth creating a springy, sponge like floor) to moraine (a hill made up of loose, jagged rocks that had been pushed from the earth by the force of glaciers), and across tundra again. We eventually found relatively flat ground to make camp, which was completed in pairs. We carried our scented goods and food in bear canisters which we would stored nearby the food preparation area, we found a suitable place for using the bathroom, adhering to the outdoor way ‘leave no trace’. Once camp had been set up, we decided to explore the area, we began climbing the near-veritcle slopes shaped by glaciation, which was exhilarating. We stopped in our tracks where the grass ended and steep rockfall began and took the moment to enjoy our surrounds. From where we stood, we gained a great vantage point of the glacial system and the course we would take in the days that followed. It was well worth the climb, and with the scattered drizzle having reached us, we made back for camp. The journey down the hill was pretty challenging, being on wet grass and at a steep gradient, we marked individual zigzag trails the entire way down.

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Standing atop the grassy knoll, overlooking the Kennecott Glacier

Day Two

We rose to the brisk summer Alaskan air, after enjoying breakfast and a hot drink, we packed up camp and made way for the glacier. The first section of the day was challenging where we were faced with both climbing and descending moraine. This wasn’t just any old up and down climb, we were descending a near 70° gradient, weighed down with heavy backpacks and battling against loose rocks and ice under foot. After our guide, I was the first to take on the challenge, and challenge it was! Adrenaline, pulsated through me, every step I placed took me an additional length just from the sliding rocks undertow, and after I made it safely down to the glacier, we waited close to an hour and a half for the remainder of our group to join us.

The hours following we learnt to walk in crampons, traversing glaciers and steering clear of crevasses (large cracks across the ice) and moulins (near vertical holes that build from a collection of surface water). We made it across the glacier and onto neighbouring moraine, where we took care in landscaping flatter ground for our camp. By the time camp was set up, the sun made its appearance; casting luminous rays over the majestic Mt Blackburn, it was truly breathtaking. From one natural wonder, to another, we made way for LaChapelle Icefalls (icefalls are formed on a steep part of a glacier, typically coming down a mountain). The icefalls were visually stunning, they were erratic formations, heavily sculptured by crevasses, we found lakes and glacial rivers, and climbed narrow bridges which the icefalls had created.

After having dinner and preparing for bed, I joined the guides in climbing the steep surface of Packsaddle Island. Upon reaching the height of the ridge, we came across a meadow of grass and wildflowers, we wandered along until we found the remains of a young grizzly bear, the probable cause of death was it having fallen from a height, but it could have been anything. All that remained was a fur coat, skull and claws. We walked to the edge of the ridge, taking in the light pastels of the evening sky and eventually made our way back to camp for a well deserved sleep.

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The stunning pastels of a summer night, overlooking the Kennecott Glacier, and our campsite on Packsaddle Island

Day Three

Day three marked a challenging day, as our energy levels were down and muscles began to ache, it was a long, exhausting haul. We began the day climbing glaciers, and continued climbing glaciers, we walked and walked and walked. We rested as often as we could, and devoured scroggin to keep us moving. We witnessed more amazing glacial formations, from moulins to serpentine rivers. As we neared the end of the glacier, we were confronted by loose moraine, made even harder to traverse with our tired limbs. As we neared camp; we were a rollercoaster of emotion, most of us found laughter in anecdotes. We took great pleasure in learning how to dispose of our bodily waste at this site, in which we would find two decent sized, flat rocks, sandwiching our faeces between the rocks, and launching said sandwich into a moulin.

Once again, we were tasked with landscaping our campsites. The thin layer of rock that covered the glacier meant we would only remove the most prominent rocks, leaving a thin layer of rock between our tents and the ice, surprisingly, this was the best nights’ sleep we had. We kicked up our feet and basked in the accomplishments we had achieved that day, we sat around sharing wonderful stories and laughed into the night.

Day Four

We made tremendous time in covering the glacier, before reaching difficult terrain, consisting of everything between boulders, rocks, and dirt on ice, we walked carefully. As we travelled further down the glacier, we came across raging rivers and fragile ice structures that our guides worked tirelessly to find routes around. It took us most of the day before we reached flat ground, stopping for lunch on the first lake of the basin. We had some serious bush bashing ahead of us, so we ensured everything on the outside of our packs was well secured, or moved to the inner compartments, we covered our bootlaces with our socks and put our raincoats on as an outer shell. This section hike was prime bear territory, and to scare off any looming visitors, we chanted “hey bear” throughout the afternoon. We walked for a period on fairly mild terrain, tundra mounds which were soft cushions, alleviating the joints, and a welcomed change from the foot stomping glaciers and slippery moraine. We hit fairly dense shrubbery as it began to rain, so we ducked and weaved as best we could, trying to avoid spring loaded branches snapping back on us from ahead. I landed a few branches to face and shins, but the pain was forgotten as the high from laughing and joking took its place. It was a thrill to weave between the branches, stomp through mud ditches and hop across rocky crossings, and a definite highlight of the trip. We ate blueberries from scrubs beside the track, and made it to camp around 2000hrs, absolutely drenched (thank god for rain layers). Upon making it to camp, we worked as a team in the pouring rain and erected the tents in no time. We were all damp and cold, so at the instruction of our guides, we hopped into our sleeping bags wearing only thermals. Finally finding warmth, it took only a matter of minutes to fall asleep. Dinner was called around 2200hrs, the guides had worked tirelessly to prepare a wonderful thanksgiving meal, which woke me from my slumber.

Day Five

We started this day with granola and pained legs. At least we were warm, dry and well rested. We headed along the ridge of moraine until we eventually dropped down a few challenging slopes, and onto the Root Glacier. After the rain, the root glacier was left rugged with pools of water. The glacier was tiring to walk across, as we stomped our crampons into the ice. As we neared the end, we found a deep blue, glacial pool, perfect for an invigorating dip. I was eager to test the waters, and having stripped down to my underwear, I carefully crossed the ice to stand at the waters edge. I pin dropped into the water, plunging further and further from the waters surface, when the shock of the water temperature hit me, I hurled myself to the surface as quickly as I could manage. Upon reaching the surface, I tried to fill my lungs with air, which was near impossible from the shock my body was going through, take two, a little more air, take three, I was pulling myself out of the water, breath four; I had regained rhythmic breathing. I felt invigorated, alive, and willing to do the exercise again. Two other girls, Kelly and Annie also braved the plunge, like trampoline work, they sprung out as soon as they had hit the water.

From here, we walked, excited to be nearing civilisation; we made fairly good time from here, only taking a couple of hours to cross the final glacier. After clearing the final section of moraine, we joined an established dirt track that took us the entire way back to Kennecott. As we entered Kennecott, we took in the historic town; far removed from metropolis, yet the faces that filled it reconnected us to civilisation. That moment, I walked amongst 7 new friends, after an experience that will connect us for life, I twirled around, and screamed at the top of my lungs “it’s good to be alive” because I had never quite, felt so gifted.


Overview of my experience:

St. Elias Alpine Guides provided a service offering like no other, I spoke with Gaia over Skype for a long period of time, we discussed: tour offerings, what my competency levels were, what I wanted out of the trip, and more generally; what I wanted out of my time in Alaska. Gaia was able to contribute advice and suggestions towards not just the tour I booked with her company, but the transportation, accommodation, onward destinations and activities that work in with my journey. The guides were knowledgeable, insightful, enthusiastic and an absolute pleasure to spend time with. We learnt about the geography and geology of the land we walked on, they took time in helping us understand glacial formations, moraine, and shared fascinating and engaging stories, and great tips along the way.

After having this experience, I felt truly accomplished, I could have returned to Australia, satisfied. I genuinely believed I had reached the climax of my 3-month holiday in just a few days, but that wasn’t the case – I was a snowball, building momentum, and this was just the beginning of my big adventure.

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This photo captures the sheer scale of the glaciers we crossed on our backpacking trip through the Wrangell – St. Elias National Park, Alaska, we are mere specs scattered across the glacier.

 

 

A Hitch-hiking Adventure

So when asked “what was the craziest thing you did when you were away?” after pondering over all of the amazing experiences I had, one that comes to mind is hitch-hiking from Yosemite to Zion National Park. Instead of delving straight into the story, I will provide you with abbreviated details on what led me there.

This story began at Merced Lake in Yosemite National Park; after a short 4 hours of sleep, I arose at the crack of dawn ready to take on the day. I prepared my breakfast, bid my farewells, and made way for the trail. I was headed to Little Yosemite Valley which was a 14km/8.6 mile walk, I started off with a quick stride, found my rhythm and to my surprise, completed the walk in a remarkable time of 3 hours. As I set up my camp, I pondered what to do with my afternoon; after filling my water bottles I prepared to take on Half Dome. Half Dome is an iconic hike in Yosemite, it is a constant climb, and a dangerous one; when you reach the top of the trail there are two lines of cables to help you climb an intimidating granite wall, suffice to say I was pretty exhausted when I reached the summit (in a gruelling 1 hour and 45 minutes). I figured this was a great place to check up on emails and messages given the vantage point for reception coverage, and that is when I saw the email from Zion Adventure Company.

I had been in touch with Zion Adventure Company a number of weeks prior trying to claim a spot in their 3 Day Canyoneering Course, although there were no spaces available, I left my details with them and asked in the event of spaces becoming available that they contact me. It was Saturday the 22nd of August when I sat on top of Half Dome reading their email; spaces had opened up on their course commencing Monday the 24th of August, meaning I had two nights, and one full day to get myself to Springdale, near Zion National Park; it would be a push to make that distance, but it was worth a try! So I called up the company and told them I would do my best to make it.

I began the descent down to camp, and considered all that lay ahead of me: I needed a nights’ rest after all I had endured that day, meaning I wouldn’t reach Lower Yosemite Valley until the mid to late morning the following day, I also had to consider being without a car, buses would not get me to my destination in time, so hitch-hiking began to seem the most plausible option. After a quick dip in the river, I made a start on dinner and joined a few neighbouring campsites for a bit of banter. There were mixed reviews on my journey-to-be, some unsure whether I would reach my destination at all, others feared for my safety, whist some felt I had the right momentum and determination to make it there on time. All opinions are valid, but it was my journey at the end of the day, and I had a goal which I was prepared to go to great lengths to reach; after all, risks are an essential part of any journey when striving for a goal.

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Accomplished – Half Dome, Yosemite National Park

The next morning I woke again at the crack of dawn and made way for Lower Yosemite Valley, the path was treacherous, but I had gravity and a downward sloping gradient on my side. I was making really good time, until I made a slight detour; walking towards the John Muir trail, instead of continuing on the Mist trail, which added a whole lot of unnecessary elevation gain and distance to my trip. So I turned back around to once again join the Mist trail, it was a gorgeous hike, passing many waterfalls and tall granite walls. When I eventually arrived back into Lower Yosemite Valley, I had just missed a shuttle bus, so decided to walk to the nearest carpark; after all, what’s another mile? By the time I reached the masses of car parks and camping grounds, it didn’t take long before I found a couple to give me a lift to Yosemite Village – and this was the beginning of my hitch-hiking expedition.

The first ride didn’t get me far, but it was a start. The second car to collect me was an older couple from the Yosemite region; who spend much of their retired lives in this particular national park. This couple took me as far as Crane gas station, from where I started my walk up the road holding my thumb out to passing traffic. I walked a couple hundred meters, and only a few vehicles passed before my next ride came along; the car belonged to a park geologist, she was hiking a couple of trails with her friend who was visiting from Europe. They took me as far as May Lake, from here a young couple from Colorado, rock-climbing their way through Yosemite picked me up, they surpassed their destination to drop me further along the road at Tuolomne Meadows store. After many thanks and farewells I started up the highway, trying to pass the final major touristy stop of the park.

It took me a total of 4 rides to get from Lower Yosemite Village to Tuolumne Meadows Store, which is a total distance of 88.5km/55miles, I averaged 22km/ride. It took me 5 rides to get from Toulomne Meadows to Springdale; travelling 839.5km/521.5miles (excluding the section travelled by bus), I travelled an average of 168km/ride over this section.

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Stunning view leaving Yosemite National Park, CA

I stood just East of Lambert Dome, holding out my thumb for yet another ride, this was when I was graced with the presence of two girls in their twenties; Mandy and Ashton, and Ashton’s father. Their vehicle came to a stop right next to me, I frantically hurdled my way into the back seat, pushing the bulk of my bag through to the boot. They were headed as far as Bishop, so that’s where I was heading too. Ashton and Mandy were based in Austin, while Ashton’s dad was based in San Antonio. We shared in some great banter, marvelled over the stunning scenery, exchanged our travel stories and got down to palm readings.

Upon reaching Bishop, we did a couple of laps around town to work out the optimum position for me to get my next ride; we decided on the most northern gas station. I made my farewells and looked forward to meeting the girls again on my visit to Austin. Standing at the gas station, I began walking up to various people asking what direction they were headed in, I wasn’t having any success in finding southbound traffic. I decided to take a different approach and draw up a sign with two destinations; Vegas and Zion in hopes that someone would be heading towards either one of these places. The lovely sales assistant sourced the materials for me and I got to work; I was happy with the end product. I crossed over the street, and put my destination sign to use; after only a couple of seconds, I noticed a police vehicle driving by, so quickly turned and pretended to search through my backpack. Once the policeman had driven out of the distance, I resumed my stance and a car stopped soon after.

Joey was the driver who picked me up, he was a teacher from the area and could take me as far as Independance. In the short time we spent travelling down the highway, Joey shared with me the history of the area and what it’s like to live in today. I took in the surrounds; the landscape had changed dramatically since leaving Yosemite; the highways and towns sat on very flat land, barren and desert like, old lava rock and cacti filled the planes; and there were jagged mountains filling the panorama from East to West.

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California desert with views of Yosemite National Park sierras, Independence CA

The next place I stopped was Independance, and it was to Jim whom I owed the pleasure. Jim was from the LA area, he operates ranches and provides a sort of ambulance service for horses; cowboy best defined him. Jim was absolutely awesome; he loved to talk and was equally fascinated with my story and home country Australia, we took turns in being all ears.

He had some interesting life experiences to share, and knows an incredible amount about the land we passed. He shared a tale of a conflict he had once found himself in; he had stopped at a gas station on Indian Reservation, after parking his car and horse trailer, he went inside to purchase a drink, by the time he emerged he saw two Native Indians making off with two of his horses. He chased them down and tried his best to reason with the two men; both of intimidating builds. The Indians said that they would be keeping the horses, which Jim fired up at.

This carried on for a little while and as the two men started off again with Jim’s horses, he raced back to his vehicle and picked up his pistol. He ran back at the men and threatening to shoot at them, which hardly roused a response and again they walked on with his two horses. He knew there was only going to be one way around this, and pointed the gun towards their feet and fired; as quickly as their arms began flailing, he grabbed his horses by their reins and ran like fire back to his trailer. Once loading the horses in, his heart jumping out of his chest, and the two Indian men in pursuit; he started up the road, he did not slow down until he was once again in state owned land, and at once he crossed that border, he felt he might live to see the next day.

He went into detail about the differing laws between state owned land and Indian Reservations, then onto the history of the land we drove along, and many stories in between. Jim shared the history of the Manzanar concentration camp situated just south of Independence; one of ten camps where over 110,000 Japanese Americans were incarcerated during World War II. Further south, I was informed of the three aqueducts that supply Los Angeles with all their water; the North Haiwee Reservoir being one of them, these aqueducts caused a great deal of controversy since their construction began in the early 1900s. It was fascinating to hear the tales of this desolate area, and all the history this area of land holds. Jim was an absolute delight, when we parted ways at Barstow, he asked that I contact him when I arrive safely at my destination.

 

Road Junction
Road junction, Barstow CA

I now stood at a busy junction hoping to find a ride to Vegas. It wasn’t long before a mexican truck driver by the name of Sol picked me up. Sol was in his late 40s and has a kid around my age, so he also took the fathering approach too. As we got moving, we started to go over where I had come from and where I ultimately aimed to reach. Given the distance I had already travelled that day, he offered me all the bottled water I may need, homemade burritos his wife had just prepared (which were still piping hot!), and allowed me to sit in silence and sleep if I felt the need. I was feeling absolutely exhausted by this stage, amazing how much energy this day had consumed. After some conversation, I moved into the area behind the driver and passenger seats, where I laid myself down to rest and research; I was looking into buses that depart from Vegas and arrive in St George, which is only an hours drive from Springdale.

Judging by the website there were a couple of buses that may be in my time frame; 9:30pm and 11:00pm. It was only a short while up the highway, that warning signals began appearing on Sol’s control panel and we were required to pull into a truck stop to stock up on oil. As we pulled into the truck stop, I phoned up the bus company to discover there was one seat available at 09:30pm, however no seats available at 11:00pm… I passed this information onto Sol, the time was approximately 6:30pm at this stage and approximately 3 hours from Vegas – I knew it would be tight, but Sol was pretty determined to get me there.

For the remainder of the journey I tried to get some rest, I was pretty wired but even just laying in the back of the cab, not talking helped me regain some energy. I moved back to the passenger seat for the remainder of the journey; it was nearly dark as we begun passing the neon lights of Las Vegas and as close as we were to Vegas, it was becoming apparent that I would not make the airport in time for the bus..

Las Vegas Airport
Overnight stop in Las Vegas… Airport, NV

By the time I made it to the airport the bus had long since left, I thought I would try my luck with the 11:00pm departure, seeing as though flights are cancelled all the time in the States! When 11:00pm came around, there were a number of people that lined up to fill their seats, I spoke with the bus driver, requesting that any spare seats are made known to me. There were two passengers that had not turned up and I was beginning to get my hopes up, however the conversation proceeded, and I had lost all hope by the time the phone call was disconnected.

I proceeded to the car park ticket machines, and began asking for people heading towards East 15 highway, finding no rides, I began to feel defeated; not only was I exhausted from everything I had just been through, it was all for nothing as there is no way that I could make my course on time. But I settled into a seat and began researching transport options for the morning.

To my surprise there was an hours time difference between Vegas and Springdale, which worked in my favour! So by catching the first bus out in the morning at 06:00am, I would arrive into St George at 07:00am local time, making me only an hour away from my final destination! I was back in the game! But I needed to rustle up a few hours of sleep, so I dozed off to sleep, listening War on Drugs playing through my headphones, curled up on the floor of Las Vegas airport. When I woke up, I made for the bathroom to freshen up; amazing how much a face cleanser and wet wipes help; it’s worth remembering I had not washed since Saturday evening, and I had hiked and travelled a long distance since then.

When the bus arrived, there were only 3 passengers who climbed on board, so I claimed the entire back seat and sprawled out. It was a 2 hour drive, and I slept the whole way. Once I hopped off the bus the driver asked how I would be travelling on to Springdale, lecturing me on how I should have been more prepared, that there is not many ways of getting from St George to Springdale. I didn’t give much of a response to this as I had just woken up and I had already made it so far, so fuck him, I will find a way.

That’s when Jessica emerged; Jessica had overheard my brief conversation with the bus driver and offered to take me a bit over halfway as it was enroute to her house. She was waiting to be picked up by her husband to be dropped off at her mechanic to collect her car, soon later we piled into her husband’s car. After collecting her car from the mechanic, we hit the road and the conversation didn’t stop! Jessica was in the process of starting up a B&B, a little out of the ordinary and I cannot wait until I’m next in the area to scope it out. After stopping for coffee and a bite to eat, she made the decision to drive me the remainder of the way; I was ecstatic! So when we arrived at the entrance to Zion Adventure Company, only being 1 hour late from when the course kicked off, I felt that I had made it – I was overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment; I had made it so far! And my heart filled with thanks to all of the people that helped me get so far.

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Stopping for a coffee at River Rock Cafe, La Verkin UT to catch up with friends I made along the journey

As I approached the service counter at Zion Adventure Company, I was greeted by the lovely Felicia; she picked me out straight away and said “you must be Maddy”. Felicia was the person I originally contacted when expressing interest in the 3 day course, she also received a few of the updates I sent through of my journey from Yosemite. She started out by saying that I should be fine to join the course as the group was still practicing knots in the building (phew!), and finished by sounds like an interesting person, and I was welcome to stay on the couch at hers. I took her up on the offer, and made my way towards the course instructor.

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Canyoning near Zion National Park, UT

What luck I had! I couldn’t stop smiling, I was constantly reflecting on the generosity of everybody I had the pleasure of meeting, and this journey would not have been possible without them.

I travelled a total of 1,128km/701miles in roughly 20 hours, 6 of which were spent sleeping at Las Vegas airport. This entire route from Yosemite Village to Springdale (Zion) was travelled by hitch-hiking rides, except for the section between Las Vegas and St George (200km/124miles) where I caught a bus.

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Breakdown of my hitch-hiking adventure throughout the United States

I have to say that yes, hitch-hiking can of course be dangerous, and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone that is not prepared to put themselves in a potentially dangerous situation; but I did not feel unsafe at any one time, I adored every person that let me into their lives on this trip, shared their stories with me and I am in part writing this blog for each of you, this is my story, a pretty wild one, but one I would not forget in a million years.

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