It didn’t occur to me until I was 27 what that nagging feeling inside was. Yeah, you know, the kind of feeling that keeps you lying awake at night staring at the ceilings.
I discovered what it was while jogging on a dirt country road on a cool spring evening. My eyes were drawn to some chickadees fluttering about in the trees. As I watched them scamper from branch to branch, my attention was drawn to the green buds at the end of each limb. They were opening. It was then I realized with a sudden clarity that the feeling I hadn’t been able to identify was calling to begin a whole new journey into the wild (wilderness backpacking, anyone!?), and also into myself.
Wilderness backpacking hadn’t crossed my mind much over the past 15 years, though. It was something I’d imagined doing as a child, as I spent countless hours in the woods, traipsing about the lush forests that surrounded my home. But I’d forgotten about it, let my passion for exploring nature fall to the wayside as I tried to embrace the routine of adult life, doing what I felt I “should” do rather than indulging my true callings.
It was on that cool spring night that my journey to becoming a wilderness woman began. Though, if I’m honest with myself the journey started long before that, back when I was that small child in the woods. So maybe on that night I just found the trail again and was able to resume my journey.
Either way, the journey has begun.