wild

As usual, I got really excited about finishing the required reading this term and started on a large and riveting book right before finals, successfully distracting me from studying. OH WELL heh. So, here goes, I'm feeling a little tongue tied but there's so much I want to say about Wild by Cheryl Strayed. I'm sure whatever I have to say has been said a million times by now since it made it into Oprah's book club this year, but I really think it holds a special place in my heart now that I don't think that the one million middle aged women who read Oprah's book club books could begin to understand. [Not to sound too cool for school or anything: trust me I've had my narcissism put in check and my book taste humbled this month in a weird conversation I had with a friend the other night]

Alright, where to start? This book has been on my "to read" list since some hiking blog I follow posted something about it earlier in the year. I was super stoked because it's my only really difficult but realistic dream to hike the PCT or at least a good chunk of it. To my surprise, a couple months later when my dad came up to visit and give me a box full of groceries, the box included this book. I of course freaked out, and he was like "Oh I just finished it nbd thought you might like it". It's taken like all of my willpower NOT to read it the past couple months with all of the priority school work I've had. I set it on my kitchen table, which as far as "to read priority" goes is tops, [followed by the stack by my bed, the stack in the corner of my room, and finally the shelf in my closet.]Finally got to start it a couple days ago, and other than work and school, I haven't put it down since.

When I was home for thanksgiving, I was looking through some of the old books I read when I was a kid that we keep in the garage. Most of them were weird historical fiction books about girls surviving on the frontier or as pioneers on the Oregon trail. The first books I ever read were the Little House books. This is kind of my thing i guess.

So anyways, I was literally crying the whole way through. The first third of the book is just emotional stuff that I could barely even get through. There were so many parts where I could not even read through my tears, it was so heavy. But it was so compelling and cool. I was sad that she bypassed the high Sierras, because I had a pretty life changing backpacking trip there and I hope she eventually went back, because golly, there's really nothing I can say that can amply describe its beauty. Actually hold up. Sup. Anyways, when she gets to Oregon, I'm just like fuck yeah, my territory. She's like going through the woods, describing trails I've been on and mountains I've explored, and then she has this heartwrenching and terrifying experience. Oh god. I'm getting shivers thinking about it. I held my breath for a good five pages, and seriously was on the verge of an emotional breakdown when she finally lets it go. It's not a main plot point, it's just a relatively small anecdote, but fuck.

Let me explain. September, 2O1O [for Cheryl, September 1995]. Hunting season. Mount Jefferson Wilderness. The kind of crazy fucks who find themselves with a gun in the middleofnowhere Oregon, stupid deadbeats who hold nothing in today's society suddenly granted this power, their murderous instincts heightened, just wild about being outside of the law. They think they're on top of the world. Here, in the forest, with no cops, no social status, no education, they're fucking kings, they're killers. I really don't know what else to say, and I already feel like I'm rambling and not really dictating exactly what's going on in my head. Nothing happened with me and the girl I was backpacking with thankfully, but I was more terrified than I've ever been in the [possible] presence of bears, pumas, injuries, losing the trail, running out of food and other absolute bullshit you encounter being an unprepared and idealistic young backpacker. A guy with a gun, miles from civilization, who thinks he owns the forest and everything in it, including your body, is the most terrifying thing.

Gosh, that part just really riled me up and had me fuming and reliving traumatic.could.have.been's, triggering fight.or.flight feelings I'd forgotten about.

But here I am, fine, I just about cried happy tears at the end of the book, I'm really proud of the girl and everyone else who's accomplished the PCT, and I'm more excited and confident than ever that it's something I can actually do in the relatively near future. [definitely not alone though, this book checked that possibility out of the way, as much as I dreamed about that, there's just too many things I know I'd fucking freak out about alone]. It also really inspired me to pull the reigns in and actually seriously start to think about saving up money to wonder off to montana's wild for a couple weeks next summer. I can't afford more at this point in my life, in fact at the moment it would be quite impossible, but I'm formulating realistic plans, putting little pieces together for a rough outline.

So I'm actually kind of tempted to write this author. She lives in my city and just seems so real to me, I think I'd just like to send her a nice thumbs up letter. Which is so strange for me. But this book is definitely up there. Riveting story. It's obviously not some hip cool super awesomely written pretentious fuckery but I loved it and I'm not ashamed to say so. Thanks and goodnight.