It All Started with a Florida Keys Kayaking Trip, and Sinking Boat.

A few weeks ago I found myself atop the ridge of a moody Sypes Canyon. It was grey out, and the wind was blowing hard with little specs of snow that felt sharp like sand when they pelted my bare legs. I don't yet have my mountain legs (I'm promised they're coming), so I was more trudging than "running" up this particularly punchy climb. When I got to the top I was completely alone, and not for the first time I wondered how I'd arrived in this wild place... alone. 

The woods, Montana woods specifically, but woods in general can get creepy when you're all by yourself. There are lots of times when I'm running in the Canyon and I dare myself to look back, waiting to see the mountain lion that nabbed a dog a few days ago only to realize I'd been tricked yet again by a squirrel which usually results in an embarrassing cirque du soleil routine landing flat on my face. Our brains are funny that way; squirrels become mountain lions, limpkins sound like ghosts, cows are bears, and that tree is most certainly sasquatch.  

 As I reached the top of the climb, finally out in the open I reminisced on all of the lions, ghosts, bears, and sasquatches that had led me up this mountain. On my first trip to Montana in 2018 I could barely get out of the car, absolutely sure that a grizzly bear was waiting to grab me and my boys; as I reflected on how far that Amy has come I realized that it started long before July 2018.... 

Spring Break 2003 my then boyfriend (now husband), and I took a trip to the Florida Keys. It was my senior year in high school, and I had big dreams of dirtbagging and adventure. 

We pulled into Boyd's Campground conveniently located on Stock Island, a skosh North of Key West, and almost immediately launched our kayaks down the street at the Florida Keys Community College. It was warm (read stifling humidity), and as I've come to learn is normal for that time of year, windy. The water was perfectly clear and Caribbean, and we had our sites set on an island a short(ish) paddle across the channel...

We never did make it to that island, and now more than 20 years after that hilariously fateful, uneventful, yet pivotal day, that island remains untouched by mine or Jorge's bare- feet. My kayak, an old orange surf kayak that I would later learn had been drug behind a jeep down a dirt road at some point was anything, but water tight. By design the surf kayak sits low in the water, but with an extra few gallons of water seeping into its hollow hull it sat even lower and listed heavily to each side as I paddled, not to mention exhausting. 

We made our way to the channel, but seeing the distinction from shallow turquoise water to deep sapphire made me acutely aware that if this kayak sank (as it was in the process of doing) I would be swimming with the barracudas, sharks, and of course sea monsters that lurked in the deep water. Panic set in and I decided I couldn't paddle any further, my kayak was sinking for goodness sake! 

An I'm sure disappointed Jorge let me into his then borrowed, yellow, Ocean Kayak. It's not meant for 2 people, or towing a sinking yak for that matter. I crying and uncomfortable at the nose of the banana boat while Jorge paddled the two of us and our sinking ship. I remember feeling so disappointed in myself, my sense of adventure (or lack thereof), and being overcome by fear of that sapphire water. I didn't make any promises to myself about personal growth or not letting myself feel that way again. Honestly, other than being a fun story, I haven't thought much about that trip over the past 20 years until I reached the top of that Sypes climb. 

The famous banana boat eventually made its way to Amerika Samoa where Hobie and I would paddle the Pala Lagoon and Airport Beach in search of Cowry Shells, and blue starfish. 

There are lots of folks who climb harder, run further, and do way more epic shit than I can even fathom. But for me, that day on Sypes, I got to reflect on all of the little seemingly meaningless experiences that led me to feel confident, and prepared about heading out on that particular trail in the Bridgers solo.  So easy does it friends, you never really know how things are going to shake out.

-AG