BOOK - Hot, Sweaty, and Happy: Lessons Learned along the Trail
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Everyone has a story or two to tell. Most people have lessons they’ve learned along the trail of life, no matter which path they’ve chosen. The same goes for author, Roberta Pickett. Using the backdrop of her favorite hobby – backpacking - Roberta tells us her story. And although you may never have backpacked, the chances are that you will be able to relate to the crippling impact of fear, the drudgery of fatigue, the value of discipline, the need for balance, the restorative power of beauty.
You will experience backpacking from inside and out: the tired, aching feet, the disciplined preparation, the response to unexpected circumstances, the fear of sleeping alone in the wilderness, the danger of a slippery trail. You will also thrill with the rush of nature’s awesome beauty and how it can be transformative.
You will experience backpacking from inside and out: the tired, aching feet, the disciplined preparation, the response to unexpected circumstances, the fear of sleeping alone in the wilderness, the danger of a slippery trail. You will also thrill with the rush of nature’s awesome beauty and how it can be transformative.
Take Responsibility for Your Life
An excerpt from "Hot, Sweaty, and Happy"
Our destination was Catherine Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness Area, just south of Yosemite National Park. Five minutes out of the parking lot, the trail took a steep turn upward. About fifteen minutes later, I thought I was having a heart attack. My heart was pounding so hard that my heartbeat was bouncing off my ears; my throat and my neck were pulsating with the exertion. I thought my head was going to pop. I was clearly not in good enough shape or not acclimated to the elevation, or both. I stopped for about 5 minutes to slow my heart rate down. Embarrassment filled me. I knew that I was holding the others back, but I also knew I had to rest before proceeding. Soon we were back on our way.
While I hiked I thought of why I was doing this to myself. I started getting angry at my brother and sister-in-law for picking such a difficult trail. I was angry at myself for thinking I could just start backpacking again as if 25 years hadn’t passed in between. I was angry at my sister because I perceived she was condescendingly treating me like a fragile little girl (more likely, like an old lady).
Being angry didn’t help me. In fact it just took up much-needed energy. For the rest of the hike that day, I was in low gear, auto-drive. My mantra was “You can do it. Just keep going.” When we arrived at Catherine Lake that afternoon, I was dully ecstatic - ready to flop onto the ground and not move until morning. But there were a number of other hiking groups already camping around the lake. Tim and Carol prefer to camp by themselves whenever possible, so the idea of sharing this small lake with 4 or 5 other groups was not their idea of ideal. Unfortunately, it was getting late in the afternoon, and more importantly, I was done. Used up. No more gas. No get up and go. It had been many years since I had exerted so much energy. I couldn’t fathom the thought of putting that heavy, sweaty pack on my back again that afternoon and hiking for a couple of more hours.
Taking pity on me, my hiking mates decided to spend the night and move on in the morning. We selected our individual spots to lay out our sleeping bags; then we fixed dinner and soon settled down for the evening. I slept like a rock … a bit like the rock bed I lay on. Actually, I slept surprisingly well on this never-been-used-before self-inflating sleeping pad. I was quite impressed with its support and my slumber.
In the morning, the smell of coffee percolating in the mountain air enticed me out of my sleeping bag. Oh, one of the sweet pleasures of life. A steaming cup of coffee in a tin cup on a chilly morning in the mountains fills the nostrils, the belly, and the brain with positive responses. Yes, now I was ready for another day! After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and raisins, we packed up our gear, broke camp, and headed northwest, with my brother in the lead.
We ended up at Lady Lake, and made camp on a ledge just below a snow field overlooking a beautiful rocky alpine lake with a grove of giant pines measuring more than four feet across guarding the north shore. We hiked up to one of the surrounding peaks and saw all the way to eternity. It was magnificent.
That evening, to celebrate my sister Patty’s birthday, Tim and Carol prepared a special birthday feast of chicken and dumplings. But as they began making dinner, dense dark thunderheads rolled in threateningly. Neither my sister nor I had brought a tent but each of us had a tarp. With the help of my brother, Patty and I created a lean-to with the tarp by tying it onto the rock ledge above us and setting our sleeping bags underneath.
Just as the water started boiling on the stove, the rain started pouring from the sky. Tim and Carol jumped into their tents; Patty and I huddled under our tarp. The rain pelted down and turned to hail. Patty and I held the edges of the tarp down around us to gain as much protection as possible. The parts of our fingers that were exposed turned frigid and blue, so we took turns at holding the outside edges, rotating every 10 minutes.
In the cold, wet darkness, Tim reached under the tarp and handed us a bowlful of dinner. The hearty meal was hot and delicious and warmed our shivering hands as well as our innards. We sang a hasty happy birthday, laughing sarcastically at the circumstances, and Tim and Carol quickly returned to their tent to get out of the storm. The icy bombardment continued until there was four inches of hail on the ground. Then the hail turned back to a deluge of rain.
Off and on all night long the rain continued. My sister and I curled up as tightly as we could, knees tucked to our chests. We caught minutes of sleep when we could, while the wind and the water whipped at our lean-to and ran in rivulets underneath our air mattresses and our soggy sleeping bags. We were cold and wet and grumpy by the time the rain stopped.
In the early gray of morning as the rain ended, the four of us emerged from the little protection we had and surveyed our situation. Surprisingly, Tim and Carol had actually not fared much better than Patty and I, since the ledge on which their tent was set had a lip on it. As the torrent of water came down the mountain, it formed a lake in and around their tent, creating a floating effect for their two mattress pads, soaking their sleeping bags and everything in their packs.
We fixed ourselves a quick cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, packed up our soggy packs and gear, and silently and groggily headed back down the trail. The granite slabs were slippery; the trails were muddy. As the sun came out, steam rose from the wet earth like geysers. Within minutes the mosquitoes swarmed in the now humid air and attacked us mercilessly as we trudged back to the truck. My sister took the worst of it, with mosquito bites painfully peppering her face and all her extremities in large welts.
The storm was unexpected. Life sometimes happens like that. But we chose to go on the hike; it was our decision. The hike had incredible highs and some tough, uncomfortable, and painful lows. But what an experience. We made it through! We helped each other out! We have an unforgettable memory of “survival”!
In the midst of difficult terrain, tough relationships, or devastating events, we may wail and rail at God, at the universe, at others around us for what we are experiencing. But ultimately, it is our choice how we respond to the circumstances we find ourselves in. It is up to us to take responsibility for our decisions and our circumstances. That does not mean we are the cause of everything, or that we are at fault. What it means is that we have the choice of how we respond to the circumstances of life. When we take responsibility, we have the opportunity to learn and grow.
To purchase, please click on the "Add to Cart" button above. The book is also available on Lulu.com and Amazon.com.
An excerpt from "Hot, Sweaty, and Happy"
Our destination was Catherine Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness Area, just south of Yosemite National Park. Five minutes out of the parking lot, the trail took a steep turn upward. About fifteen minutes later, I thought I was having a heart attack. My heart was pounding so hard that my heartbeat was bouncing off my ears; my throat and my neck were pulsating with the exertion. I thought my head was going to pop. I was clearly not in good enough shape or not acclimated to the elevation, or both. I stopped for about 5 minutes to slow my heart rate down. Embarrassment filled me. I knew that I was holding the others back, but I also knew I had to rest before proceeding. Soon we were back on our way.
While I hiked I thought of why I was doing this to myself. I started getting angry at my brother and sister-in-law for picking such a difficult trail. I was angry at myself for thinking I could just start backpacking again as if 25 years hadn’t passed in between. I was angry at my sister because I perceived she was condescendingly treating me like a fragile little girl (more likely, like an old lady).
Being angry didn’t help me. In fact it just took up much-needed energy. For the rest of the hike that day, I was in low gear, auto-drive. My mantra was “You can do it. Just keep going.” When we arrived at Catherine Lake that afternoon, I was dully ecstatic - ready to flop onto the ground and not move until morning. But there were a number of other hiking groups already camping around the lake. Tim and Carol prefer to camp by themselves whenever possible, so the idea of sharing this small lake with 4 or 5 other groups was not their idea of ideal. Unfortunately, it was getting late in the afternoon, and more importantly, I was done. Used up. No more gas. No get up and go. It had been many years since I had exerted so much energy. I couldn’t fathom the thought of putting that heavy, sweaty pack on my back again that afternoon and hiking for a couple of more hours.
Taking pity on me, my hiking mates decided to spend the night and move on in the morning. We selected our individual spots to lay out our sleeping bags; then we fixed dinner and soon settled down for the evening. I slept like a rock … a bit like the rock bed I lay on. Actually, I slept surprisingly well on this never-been-used-before self-inflating sleeping pad. I was quite impressed with its support and my slumber.
In the morning, the smell of coffee percolating in the mountain air enticed me out of my sleeping bag. Oh, one of the sweet pleasures of life. A steaming cup of coffee in a tin cup on a chilly morning in the mountains fills the nostrils, the belly, and the brain with positive responses. Yes, now I was ready for another day! After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and raisins, we packed up our gear, broke camp, and headed northwest, with my brother in the lead.
We ended up at Lady Lake, and made camp on a ledge just below a snow field overlooking a beautiful rocky alpine lake with a grove of giant pines measuring more than four feet across guarding the north shore. We hiked up to one of the surrounding peaks and saw all the way to eternity. It was magnificent.
That evening, to celebrate my sister Patty’s birthday, Tim and Carol prepared a special birthday feast of chicken and dumplings. But as they began making dinner, dense dark thunderheads rolled in threateningly. Neither my sister nor I had brought a tent but each of us had a tarp. With the help of my brother, Patty and I created a lean-to with the tarp by tying it onto the rock ledge above us and setting our sleeping bags underneath.
Just as the water started boiling on the stove, the rain started pouring from the sky. Tim and Carol jumped into their tents; Patty and I huddled under our tarp. The rain pelted down and turned to hail. Patty and I held the edges of the tarp down around us to gain as much protection as possible. The parts of our fingers that were exposed turned frigid and blue, so we took turns at holding the outside edges, rotating every 10 minutes.
In the cold, wet darkness, Tim reached under the tarp and handed us a bowlful of dinner. The hearty meal was hot and delicious and warmed our shivering hands as well as our innards. We sang a hasty happy birthday, laughing sarcastically at the circumstances, and Tim and Carol quickly returned to their tent to get out of the storm. The icy bombardment continued until there was four inches of hail on the ground. Then the hail turned back to a deluge of rain.
Off and on all night long the rain continued. My sister and I curled up as tightly as we could, knees tucked to our chests. We caught minutes of sleep when we could, while the wind and the water whipped at our lean-to and ran in rivulets underneath our air mattresses and our soggy sleeping bags. We were cold and wet and grumpy by the time the rain stopped.
In the early gray of morning as the rain ended, the four of us emerged from the little protection we had and surveyed our situation. Surprisingly, Tim and Carol had actually not fared much better than Patty and I, since the ledge on which their tent was set had a lip on it. As the torrent of water came down the mountain, it formed a lake in and around their tent, creating a floating effect for their two mattress pads, soaking their sleeping bags and everything in their packs.
We fixed ourselves a quick cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, packed up our soggy packs and gear, and silently and groggily headed back down the trail. The granite slabs were slippery; the trails were muddy. As the sun came out, steam rose from the wet earth like geysers. Within minutes the mosquitoes swarmed in the now humid air and attacked us mercilessly as we trudged back to the truck. My sister took the worst of it, with mosquito bites painfully peppering her face and all her extremities in large welts.
The storm was unexpected. Life sometimes happens like that. But we chose to go on the hike; it was our decision. The hike had incredible highs and some tough, uncomfortable, and painful lows. But what an experience. We made it through! We helped each other out! We have an unforgettable memory of “survival”!
In the midst of difficult terrain, tough relationships, or devastating events, we may wail and rail at God, at the universe, at others around us for what we are experiencing. But ultimately, it is our choice how we respond to the circumstances we find ourselves in. It is up to us to take responsibility for our decisions and our circumstances. That does not mean we are the cause of everything, or that we are at fault. What it means is that we have the choice of how we respond to the circumstances of life. When we take responsibility, we have the opportunity to learn and grow.
To purchase, please click on the "Add to Cart" button above. The book is also available on Lulu.com and Amazon.com.