walk with me down the trail

walk with me down the trail

For two years, we lived in a tent trailer while traveling the American West. To document the kind of adventure I’d never have again, I wrote our stories.

We’ve left the RV life for now, but these weekly vignettes still explore adventure’s ups and downs, our relationship with the outdoors, the wonderful disaster of parenting, and the struggle to catch lightening in the creative bottle.

Falling & Failing
In the Wild, Self Beth Downing In the Wild, Self Beth Downing

Falling & Failing

You’re afraid of falling and you’re afraid of failing. The difference is the “i” and that difference is how much of yourself you bring into the uncontrolled process of meeting the ground.

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Carillon
In the Wild, Self Beth Downing In the Wild, Self Beth Downing

Carillon

Were the temperature to rise by even two degrees, the sky would instead be pressing the precise part of me that finds it difficult to get out of bed. It would be the devil saying, see? It’s better when you leave the door closed. But the snow has something different to say. It whispers: oh, wonder.

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How to Cry in the Mountains
In the Wild, Self Beth Downing In the Wild, Self Beth Downing

How to Cry in the Mountains

You scatter pieces of your confidence over the slopes, tucking them between trees and underneath the pillowy white powder. Everything you’ve worked so hard to believe about yourself is flaking off and settling on the side of the mountain.

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Away We Stay: Always Wanted To
In the Wild, Self Beth Downing In the Wild, Self Beth Downing

Away We Stay: Always Wanted To

It’s the ghost of my past self every time I hear someone say they’ve wanted to do that because I agree. It took a momentous global event and drastic change in circumstance and still, there are hundreds of places our trips could died in the water. The idea could have sunk to the bottom of the lake that holds all my regrets in cold stasis.

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