Author: Holly Bird

Hiking Sticks & To Be Remembered

I am perched on a rock. The Sawtooth mountains are behind me, I am eating a granola bar that is squished from its resting place in between my first aid kit and my fleece layers in my orange backpack (Thank You for that, Mat & Jason). Chewing thoughtfully, beats of sweat dripping down my back. It is July, it is uncharacteristically warm in Skagway (so I am told) and I am unprepared for all that has been shown to me on the second of two back to back Backroads trips, both which I have done "blind" (ie: no research or familiarization time, as per usual). John, a New Yorker from the Bronx pokes me in the arm with his walking stick. This is how he has been getting my attention all week on this hiking trip. I am unprepared for what he is going to ask. "Holly," he drawls (which sounds more like the Dirty Jersey long words: Haaawwwley)"How do you want to be remembered?" It's funny how I am given these small moments of grace admist the chaos that is my working life. My first trip started with sickness, showed me Fairbanks and Denali National Park, including the beautiful Mt. McKinley herself. In her full glory I pulled over to look at her at 6am on a solo drive from Fairbanks and I could hardly swallow. No mountain...

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Monday Night Multi-Grain Wasa & Nutella

From most major nutritionists and a significant portion of my own eating education, I understand completely that my current "snack" isn't quite what one would regard as "healthy" and the time I am eating it not "appropriate". (Heavy pause to dip spoon into nutella jar). Riiiiiigggght. I am dining while typing on my computer trying to do random, last minute asides (Where can I get an Alaska SIM card? Where is the leaderhouse anyway? Why are my hiking boots so damn uncomfortable? Should I have broken those in pre-Alaska? Do I bring my wool long underwear or my football game long underwear? Why don't my toiletries pack themselves? Why did I stupidly unpack my emergency drug kit post-Costa Rica when now I am searching for the drug bottles from the emergency drug kit? How come my hair style when air dried looks like a little boys mullet from 1988? Do I really want to go back to work with Backroads? Why can't I marry rich, produce babies and stay hot as my career? How come my $20 manicure is chipping?) There are too many questions for proper contemplation so I dip my spoon into the nutella jar to add some more to the wasa bread. Nutella, if I can ever find a man I love as much as you, I will know it is real true love. I am...

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House O’ Bricks?

I was sitting on the sand alone at Playa Jaco bemoaning my luck with my 7’2 surfboard I rented in a weak moment of feeling better last night (hey! Good news- the fever passed. All I am left with is a bit of a stomach ache. OK, not an ache- a nausea that seems to be quelled by 2-3 peptobismol chewing tablets every 2-3 hours. I am almost out, but there is a 'Famacia' down the road to try tomorrow morning. Mum's advice- might be a 24 hour bug, drink lots of water, wear clothes to bed you can sweat in, and don't tell the world on your blog you feel unwell! Because everyone panics... like me. Me = panic... for a short time. Once I convinced myself I wasn't dying of Swine Flu I felt a lot better. The man at the place I am staying who said I was pale told me it was "just the water"- longests bracket ever.) thinking I might feel better today to use it. After many hours of sleep and lying around the hotel in the am, I decided to wax up and head out. I spent my first hour or so ass over tea kettle over board, in the ungraceful way only a novice can really do. Sitting alone, feeling a slow stream of water trickle out of my ear I...

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Donde vs. Dove

Yesterday afternoon I found myself in a small cafe kitchen in Santa Teresa with my friend Nancy and a new friend Evie. We are baking a chocolate birthday cake and dealing with the excruciating heat by fanning ourselves with old menus printed in spanish. The cafe is closed but the owner is there with her wild pet squirrel that keeps launching itself from her shoulder to mine. I make a strong attempt not to shreek everytime this small wild squirrel whips itself to my shoulder (a sign of affection the owner tells Nancy as her and Evie break down in stitches laughing) and not to cringe at the general uncleanileness of the cafe. The other owners sit out front and smoke pot barefoot facing the dusty street. The Birthday cake is for roomie Tammy, Nancy and I and Evie are heading to a party to celebrate T´s birthday. I am in awe of how strange this situation is and how travel is like that sometimes, catapulting you into these situations. But I digress. One week has passed since I found myself fighting airports, tickets, time lines and tricky travel bits and already it seems like a foggy memory. I have finally relaxed into the pace of life here that could best be described as 'island time'... as everything happens at a pace and urgency similar to that of Hawaii......

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I get attached and other stopable “stuff”

I get attached. I have freewheeling, seemingly careless, sometimes plan-less moments that last from days to months (to years my parents might argue). I choose the reckless choice, I choose confusing, I choose the money-heavy ill planned options, I go muddy, I have unexplainable life experiences that are sometimes baffling. I end up on wrong trains, wrong trips, sick to my stomach, sick in the head, with bruises and cuts and small victories and defeats. I meet the right people, see the incredible sun rise, sit in awe of myself, shift the car with my left hand and drive left, laughing out loud that this is in fact what I have chose. I sat in front of the computer, the option to go. I scroll between the purple 'buy' and the clear 'delete' buttons. I scroll. I sit. I open a bottle of wine. I sip. I scroll. I entertain my options. I walk away. I sleep on it, I wake up. I turn the ignition of my car and Springsteen's Glory Days plays and I go back in and I go upstairs and I bulldoze in and I sit and I go back to the button and I press "BUY". If Nancy Dixon and Costa Rica could have verbalized a decision that was to be how it came. So I go, backpack full of shorts and suits and...

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HollyBird I’m Holly: an Entrepreneur, marketer and endurance athlete living in the Canadian Rockies. These are stories of my (mis)adventures.

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