To be honest, I’m not even sure this year’s #girlsgonewild trip even qualifies as Type Two Fun. There was no snow, no rain, no bleeding feet, no forgetting hiking boots, no leaky tent, no frozen fingers, and no swarms of mosquitoes (see Type Two Fun on the Skyline Trail – it checked all the boxes!). Could this have been Type one fun?!
Join us next year? To roll with us, you have to have no shame stalking around a parking lot asking strangers for a ride to the trailhead so you can leave your car at the trail’s end. (And no, Mom, this is totally not the same thing as hitchhiking….).
You also must to be committed to a pre-hike photo (maybe even every day). Bonus if you are good at balancing your camera on tree branches, rocks, and hiking poles to help capture the magic with a self-timer along the way (who needs the extra weight of a selfie stick?).
You can totally hang with us next year if you notice the little things like wildflowers, if you appreciate the grandeur of the big things, and if you concede that the enormity of your surroundings sometimes makes you feel just so very small.
You can totally hang with us next year if you’re into rehydrated pad thai (like, in a big way), if you hope never to have to use your bear spray but a part of you thinks it might actually be kinda cool to test your reflexes unholstering it under pressure, and if you don’t roll your eyes at the thought of daily (almost) Charlie’s Angels rituals (obviously).
You can totally come along if you can declare unequivocally half way through a day that you are “DONE” and then allow your friends to coax you up yet ANOTHER elevation gain of 800m and into an occasional sleeping bag chest bump. Because. That’s why.
You can totally roll with us if you’re into sweaty clothes, silliness, and playing Phase 10 with the savvy of a ten-year-old, and if you, on some level, wish you were that girl that would see a glass-top lake and go for a cannonball skinny-dip, but know that you won’t because you don’t want to risk being cold. And you didn’t bring a towel. Or a comb. Or maybe even deodorant. Those things are heavy.
To hang with us, you need to be able to embrace river crossings and to appreciate the delirium that rounds out a nine-hour day in which ad-libbed lyrics that go something like, “I’m on a mountain, not on a boat!” echoed off of mountain tops for the 18th time actually begin to sound somewhat poetic, in which no conversation topic is off limits to pass the time, and in which outhouse etiquette is passionately debated. Ad nauseam.
If you’re into four days of fresh air, amazing views, killer ascents, mountain passes, soul food, and sunshine, then yep, you can totally come next year. Apply within.