Sardine Lake

Last winter, I struggled finding community and connection in California. I was living in an isolated space and had daily contact with the same 8 people. We worked, lived, ate, and played lots of games together. But there is only so much one can do until the craving for outside contact takes over. And let me tell you, I was CRAVING it.  So around New Years, I invited myself over this girl’s house.

Celeste

She is crazy in the best ways possible, loves to eat, has a ridiculously early bedtime and is up for adventure rain or shine. So, clearly, we would become great friends. And we did! It only took me inviting myself over without giving her an opportunity to say no. Creepy? Too forward? Maybe. But I was desperate y’all. I needed a friend outside my teeny community and I needed that friend NOW.

The outcome of me inviting myself over...

We saw each other rarely yet when we did, the adventures were raw and wild.  This one time, we decided to hike awhile along the Yuba.  A few hours into the hike, clearly delirious, we stripped our clothes off and jumped into the water. It was late January. There was SNOW on the ground. My body’s never felt the same since.

Another time, we hiked 2 miles in a blizzard with a crew of friends to find a “word of mouth” yurt that was supposedly hidden in the middle of the woods. We didn’t have a map, directions, or any sort of concrete proof that this yurt actually existed. But IT WAS THERE! And we had a glorious night drinking ourselves silly while playing the best game on the planet- Bonanza (also known as Bean Trader’s). If there is a single game that you play in your life- let it be Bonanza. I’m telling you, it’s da bomb diggity.

But my favorite adventure is the one that led us to my future sanctuary, an escape from the foothills into the womb of the Sierra’s.  We didn’t really have a plan but we left prepared. We packed sleeping bags “just in case” and enough sardines to feed all of California. (If you didn’t know, I consider sardines to be a food group. So does Celeste. No wonder we became friends.) And then we drove. We didn’t know where we were going but knew that we hadn’t yet “arrived.” Almost an hour into the drive, just as we were discussing turning around, we saw Gold Lake Road. It was clearly going uphill and we were curious what was on top of that hill. So we turned and followed the road to breathtaking views until the snow wouldn’t allow us to go any further. Then we saw it….a sign for SARDINE LAKE. It was a sign without a doubt. I mean, the Universe knew how much we loved sardines and brought us to this place. We giggled with glee, drove as far as the snow would let us, and hiked to this view:

In that moment, I felt a connection I hadn’t felt to a place in a long time. We’d “arrived”.

Sardine Lake became my “go-to” destination. I brought friends, I went alone and I even took my campers there. The magic never disappeared.

Maybe one day, I’ll swim in those waters again.

Maybe not.

But one thing I know for certain, Sardine Lake was a haven in times of unease. I can’t wait to find that haven, here, in Michigan. I know it’s here. I can feel it. And with time, it will reveal itself.

Until then, onward and upward!

Eating sardines at Sardine Lake..doesn't get better than that!

Tis the Season of Change

As the leaves around me change and gracefully fall off the branches they have been nourishing, I am reminded of how normal, beautiful, absolutely breathtaking change can be. I look at the trees and notice how stunning they are for a brief moment in time, right before they are gone. As it is with change. Change doesn’t need to be dramatic, painful, and LOUD.  It can be quiet. Graceful. Even breathtaking.

There is an added calm and peacefulness that accompanies change when it is a result of following ones intuition. It’s a voice that whispers “Let the storm water and deepen your roots. Let the wind bend you so you bounce back stronger.  Let the darkness envelop you and bask in awe at the first rays of sunshine. Be here. Now. Breathe. You are exactly where you’re meant to be.”

For the past 5 years I’ve been following that little voice inside my heart with an unparalleled fierceness.  That voice is now part of my everyday consciousness. Sometimes it guides me through flash flooded deserts and raging seas; other times, through wildflower valleys and soul cleansing waterfalls. But wherever it leads me, I follow. I surrender to the forces beyond my understanding and trust, full heartedly, that these forces are supporting me with every breath I take.

In the past month, I’ve followed my heart’s pull back to Michigan. In less than two weeks, I’ll be following my heart’s pull back to Kalamazoo. Home. Kalamazoo is home. At least for now.

I’m bursting with excitement. I am intrigued. I wonder what it will be like to find the sense of adventure and the wild outdoors in my favorite mitten town. What will it be like to embrace a season of winter? Will I love ice climbing as much as I love the desert rock? In what ways will paddling the big lake be different than paddling the seas? Do I have enough wool socks? Will I get tired of the climbing gym routes? Will I love my work? Where will I fit in the community? I am excited to find out the answers to all these questions. For the first time in a while, I feel settled, grounded, and content. My heart is just right.

Yet in typical “Yelena fashion”, there is a trip on the horizon. Iceland 2015 is in the works and I’m excited to share details as they finalize. My mind is bursting with inspiration and projects are abundant.  I am writing again, reading again, and learning new skills at every possible opportunity. My body feels healthy and strong; aching for yoga and the balance of rock. I am inspired in a more grounded, steady way. I no longer feel the urge to run, though movement remains my natural state of being.  I am evolving, changing and embracing.

Also, did I mention one of my best friends is getting married?

Season of change y’all.

A Hermit in the Foothills

I am a hermit.

I don't get lonely when I am alone.

I am perfectly happy going a full day without speaking to another human being.

I travel alone, laugh alone, and see breathtaking sights alone.

I don't hear the answers form others, I hear them in the wind.

I have no desire to be surrounded by a sea of people when I can let the waters surround me.

The language of the ocean, not that of humans, comforts me.

The holiness of a setting sun reaffirms what I already know.....nothing.

Feeling my heartbeat synchronize to that of an ancient stone exhilarates me.

The roots of trees ground me.

When I choose to spend time with people, it's not because I need to. It's because I want to.

I am selective in my relationships.

I live a full life, and the people in it are rare creatures that I have carefully selected and treasure. And those rare creatures have selected me. As part of that selection, a clear understanding of freedom has developed. Freedom to me means the ability to fly without expectations, obligations, or judgement. And these rare creatures that have collided with my path honor my definition of freedom just as I honor theirs. And that is why our webs will be forever entangled....even if I fly for months, years, and decades at a time without landing on their homestead, they feel my vibrations in their web. And that is enough.

One of my personal truths that I recently became fully comfortable with is the idea of being alone by choice. I do not live a solitary life, but I do prefer a life that allows me to spend more time with the trees and my breath rather than my fellow humans. I'd much rather follow the seducing pulls of a new adventure than a new lover. And to the disappointment and shock of society, I am okay with that.

I can't predict the future nor would I want to. Maybe one day my world will collide with someone who spreads their wings as often as I do and we'll fly to distant lands together as well as comfortably apart. And if the blissful collision occurs, will I want it? I don't know.

I am a tangled mess. The past few years have uncovered knots that I never knew existed. And as I slowly untangle this beautiful mess, I feel so much gratitude. I am so grateful that I can see the knots and tangles. There are many so terrified of their mess that they shove it in a corner and live their whole lives denying it's there.

I am grateful to have untangled my "solitary" knot. And not only have I untangled it, but it's now beautifully woven into my feathers.

Cheers to untangling those knots!

It Ain't So Lonely Afterall

When I was in college, I envisioned myself living in a city thriving on the hustle and bustle and riding a wave of pulsating energy. Cities provided me with a unique excitement and bursts of creative energy… for the first 4 days. It was only after visiting a city for an extended period of time that I realized I could, and would, never live in a big city long term.  All of a sudden they overwhelmed me, drained me, and stroked my ego in all the wrong ways. Bangkok was no exception. While I enjoyed exploring the vibrant city for a few days, I couldn’t wait to “get the hell outta there!”

I'd rather be here any day! Turns out, vast spaces within vicinity of the ocean hit the sweet spot. This photo was taken a few months before I left for Thailand in a place that is currently my home...for the moment.

If you’ve read my Bangkok post, you’ll remember that I got there guns blazing ready to fight off all the rapists, murderers, and harassers. You will also remember that I didn’t encounter any. Safety wise, I would say Bangkok is safer than most major U.S. cities. I rocked it there. I walked everywhere, dodged the tourist traps, and even made some friends along the way. But the city was still filled with people, pollution, and way too much noise for my peace-seeking mind. So a few days after arriving, riding on my newfound confidence, I took public transportation to an island east of Bangkok, just a boat ride away from Cambodia, the island of Koh Chang.

My intention for the trip was to experience the beauty and culture that Thailand had to offer while avoiding as many tourists as I could. I was out to meet travelers, not tourist. And trust me, there is a huge difference.  Having done my research, I knew that Koh Chang was “off the beaten path” attracting those that were willing to expect the unexpected, take some risks, and challenge themselves; exactly what I was hoping, and looking, for. And I definitely got that.

I arrived at the bus station and after asking around for the best price (using lots and lots of hang gestures) and fastest time of arrival, I boarded a 10-person shuttle and we were on our way! I was the only white person on the shuttle and that comes with its territory. I was looked at, laughed at, stared at, and talked about. And honestly I didn’t mind, I was expecting it. What I wasn’t expecting was all the stops we made. I kid you not, we stopped at the shuttle driver’s brother’s, sister’s, cousin’s, uncle’s, grandmother’s, and father’s house. And that, I was not expecting.

Each time we stopped, I had no idea what was going on and there was no one that could explain it to me. In fact, some of places that we stopped at, the thought running through my mind was “Well, this is it. This is what everyone warned me about. I’m gonna be the foreign girl that gets kidnapped, raped, and murdered.” (Typing that makes me cringe, but at that time I still had some fear in my heart and worries on my mind.)

Silly girl.

It takes about 6 hours to get to Koh Chang, and after 3, everyone on the shuttle took me in as their foreign relative and made sure I was always where I was supposed to be. You see, when filling up a bus/shuttle in Thailand (at a gas station), they require you to get out of the vehicle and wait. And each time we got out, someone from my shuttle would stand near me and smile at me (or laugh at me, I’m not quite sure). But when it was time to leave, they always, ALWAYS, made sure that I was back on that shuttle. And when we got to the ferry that would take us to the island, they led me to the right ferry and made sure I got a fair price. So whether they laughed at me or not, I know that they cared. Thai people are the most loving, helpful, caring, gentle, and friendly individuals that I have ever encountered. It’s called the “Land of Smiles” for a reason.

As I boarded the ferry and floated to the island, the weather looked a bit threatening. It created an air of mystery and magic. At that moment, I knew I was going somewhere special.

As soon as I stepped off the ferry, the skies cleared, the sun came out, and my heart twinkled with anticipation. I made it! I was on the island! I did it! All by myself!

The ride to my bungalow. Thailand and safety don't go hand in hand, I learned.

From my research, I decided to go to Lonely Beach, an area known for its alternative vibe and lack of resorts. It was the furthest beach from the ferry port, but it’s like that for a reason. It was littered with bamboo beach bungalows occupied by crazy, spontaneous individuals without a resort in sight. I’d arrived in paradise and I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by like-minded adventurers. (Sigh with love-struck memories) It may be called Lonely Beach, but it isn’t that lonely afterall.

The one and only road in Lonely Beach.

It ain't so lonely! And there's no crowds!

I stayed in a private bungalow at Oasis and as soon as I arrived I knew I’d made the right decision. I was greeted with smiles and an explanation of an honor system used for food and drinks. You can order whatever you want and grab a drink anytime…and they trusted you to write it down on your own sheet. I appreciated the sense of trust more than I can put into words. A place where strangers trust each other (and of course, soon become friends) is truly an Oasis. And at $20/night for an air conditioned private bungalow (which is expensive for Thai standards (!!!)), I was blissed out.

The deck where all the bungalow inhabitants spent most of their time, myself included. It was a wonderful way to connect, share experiences, and make new friends over a round of beers.

The beach wasn’t that bad either.

I spend a week on Koh Chang and couldn’t be more grateful to have found such a gem. There were some tourists, but most of the people I met on Lonely Beach were long-term travelers. If you ever go to Thailand, do yourself a favor and get your booty to Lonely Beach on Koh Chang.

Leaving.

I can’t wait to go back to Thailand. Who wants to come with me?

Before.

The past few days I've been sorting through my pictures from Thailand, India, and the sweet days of my life in Utah and now, California. I came across some beauties from a trip I took just a few weeks before boarding the plane for SE Asia.

It was a 4 day solo trip to the coast and up through the glorious Redwoods. I love the serenity and sacredness of solo travel and wonder what it would be like to travel with somebody. Maybe one day I'll try it.

Until then, here are some photos of magical moments in time that settled my heart and prepared me for my big journey. I am eternally grateful to call this place my hOMe.

My cozy sleeping spot. Falling asleep to the sound of crashing waves is the sweetest sound I've ever known.

Beer, book, and a stunning sunset.

Early morning visitor.

Can you see me?

The oldest of them all.

Quiet, serene, peaceful.

I intend to write about my journeys as they settle into my heart and reveal new wisdom. I believe inspiration will come as I continue to be patient with myself. Thanks for reminiscing with me.