Off-Trail Digest

A space for the explorer’s wild, wandering, and sometimes weary soul ‣ Inspired by Mother Nature ‣ Created by Morgan Dzak

[morgandzak]

Freedom is a Trap: a short poem

Freedom is a trap. Free of time, free of responsibility; In this moment I am free, but it is the freedom that cages me. The pathways overlap around me, jailing me inside with so many routes, I’m inhibited to decide. I cannot escape.

[morgandzak]

An Earth Poem:

My Mother, my Earth, why you’ve traveled so far; My Moon, my Sun, how you shine through the stars; My untamed and wild, why don’t you come rest with me? My divine and sacred, you’re all that I see; My Rock and my World, how you rotate with joy; My mission, my calling, why yes, I’ll deploy; My waves and my shore, how you move with such power; My wind and my clouds, how you flow for many an hour; My trees and my roots, you ground me with faith; My birds and my beasts, oh you never move with haste; My breath and my air, can you fill me with love? My spirits and keepers, cast protection from above; My wanderers and wishers, don’t you ever stop dreaming; My children, my friends, please never stop believing; My ancestors, my natives, thank you for showing the way; My lineage, my descendants, the Earth will live for your day.

[morgandzak]

A Paddle Poem:

I paddled through the sea today;

Swells and stars, I was unafraid;

The colors came out, all the pinks of the sky,

And as I traveled past, I tried not to cry;

How beautiful it is, how free I am,

Living out this life, and I don’t give a damn;

What is stability anyways?

Living out adventure all of my days;

A life of wild is for the bold of heart;

Being in this world, I’m such a small part;

Small, but mighty, I keep this in mind;

During any challenge that I may find;

Rising to meet demands of any occasion;

Leaving behind fear of this world’s civilization;

So I run free and I dare not look back;

A life out here? It’s ain’t so bad....

[morgandzak]

Silence: a short poem

Silence is my sister; Silence is my friend She is the beginning when I think I’m at my end.

[morgandzak]

"Canyons do something to you that mountains do not”

(Photo taken Nov. 2018 en route to Horseshoe Canyon in southeastern Utah near Canyonlands National Park with the Henry Mountains looming in the back)

I wrote "A Canyon Poem” during a month-long canyoneering expedition that was part of a 90-day NOLS course. I taught a class that day and led a popular creative writing exercise -- clustering -- to set the framework for a one-hour solo each person was about to take.

Eight students and two instructors were to use the words “desert” and “canyon” to cluster off of, and then look over the words they came up with. I told everyone to utilize the solo time clustering to unlock their own creativity and expression, free of judgement, to use as inspiration for another exercise, whether it was a simple meditation or writing a piece to share with others.

The NOLS group parted ways, each person going off in their own spot to spend an hour alone. We were at our Granary Spring base camp, which is immediately east of Utah’s Blue John Canyon system -- a canyon that gained much notoriety in the wake of canyoneer Aron Ralston cutting off his arm upon being trapped in a slot canyon by a chockstone. 

I sent my poem to Boomer and he said, “That’s the desert, beautiful. Kinda dark, but also hopefully.... You wear a light outside but a deep dark place inside, your canyons...”

We all have these canyons inside of us -- “soul canyons,” if you will. And sometimes the depth or length of these canyons, we do not know. Other times we explore them -- a technical canyoneering of the psyche, in a sense. It’s dark and it’s uncomfortable, but it’s growth-oriented. And growing almost exclusively hurts. 

After the NOLS group gathered back from the one-hour solo, people had the option to share their exercises and experiences with others. At first it was silent. Then slowly but surely, people started opening up about solo experiences. I gathered there was this omnipresent darkness that fell over all our solos, as everyone kind of said they went to a dark place; some of the places their minds wandered were very deep, dark slot canyons indeed.

“I did too,” I said, continuing the dialogue and calling out the theme of darkness. “But I think that’s just what the canyons do to you.”

Walking through canyons is like going through a passage of time, and you can feel every era simultaneously; it can sometimes even feel heavy. There is so much ancient history within the canyons, it’s difficult to wrap your mind around the place that you’re in. I mean, we were sleeping in the same canyon systems that Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid used to hideout. Robbers Roost, it’s called, and my word, that was the first and last time we had to drop a slot canyon -- South Fork Robber’s Roost -- in full 100L Deuter expedition packs. We did a 50-ft. rappel and had to lower all the backpacks into the canyon; Robber’s Roost is an absolute bitch to get into. 

The exit out of Robber’s Roost was through White Roost Canyon using this pack horse trail up and onto the mesa. It was steep and exposed with some loose rock -- textbook canyon entries/exits. It wasn’t the hardest exit we had to do and was in no way technical, but it’s still always a bitch climbing out of a canyon with a 60-lb. backpack on, 10 lbs. of that being water strapped down at the top of your pack, just sloshing around up there. 

I always asked my NOLS instructors what the canyons would be like. They always said, “ Canyons will be a spiritual experience... beautiful... challenging... technical.... dirty... very dark... Canyons are very sacred. And they are exceptionally difficult to navigate.

In an Instagram post I mused, “Canyons are unforgiving and bring out a certain darkness and discomfort that’s very introspective.... But if you can’t learn how to navigate your way in the darkness and discomfort of canyons — canyons of the desert and of the soul — you’ll get lost.”

Boomer I guess summed up the ambiguously weird sensation: “Canyons do something to you that mountains do not.” 

[morgandzak]

A Canyon Poem:

(Photo taken March 2018 in Colorado National Monument outside Grand Junction, Colo.)

Canyons, Canyons, filled with sand; Desert, my Desert, oh barren land. Pervasive thoughts flood my mind, threads of the past I must unwind.

What ancient ghosts haunt this place? What darkness of my own must I face? Poisonous passion, an appetite for evil, locked inside Earth's secret keyhole

Nature's secrets stand the test of time, buried beneath man's significant crime; All life wasted, even our own; Egregious sin, but we refuse to atone.

Trampling the Earth living in fear, how can we neglect something so precious and dear? Our only Mother lives beneath our feet, alas, we forget a love obscure and discrete.

Harsh environment, punishing landscapes, still we wonder why Earth chooses to quake; What do we expect when Mother lives in war, perpetually abused from a human sore;

But Mother perseveres with a brilliant, robust love, attracting an energy from the stars above.

Mother's love may be an untamed, terrifying wild, her deliberate environment is anything but mild. Just know that you are, and how you came to be, Mother Earth is responsible for all the life you see.

(Photo taken March 2018 in Colorado National Monument outside Grand Junction, Colo.) 

[morgandzak]

“When you get dropped off at the Mexican border, all your expectations and preconceptions about what the Continental Divide Trail is or will be are shattered. That’s why all the thru-hikers tell each other, ‘you’re never gonna make it.'"

“When you get dropped off at the Mexican border, all your expectations and preconceptions about what the Continental Divide Trail is or will be are shattered. That’s why all the thru-hikers tell each other, ‘you’re never gonna make it.'”

A story by my coworker/hiking partner, Dean “Boomer” Krakel for the Continental Divide Trail Coalition on our 2018 CDT hike.

See photos and videos from the hike on Instagram @greatdividehikers. 

[morgandzak]

The Water Issue, Pt. II

I’ve had some of the shittiest water in my entire life this past year, from cow troughs in New Mexico to slot canyon pot holes in Utah, and I still found everything very tasty, yet disgusting. 

You definitely get a whole new appreciation for water, like.

Servers. They bring us endless amounts of beautiful, clean, clear, delicious water, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! I didn’t have to life a damn finger for this water, and they’re just bringing it out and plopping it on the table in front of me. 

I didn’t have to find it, collect it, carry it, purify it, filter it, ration it, boil it or melt it from snow. It’s just right here, in front of me.

Life is good, OK?

[morgandzak]

An Avalanche Awareness Poem:

Colorado’s snowpack is whack. When you hear a *crack*,  better turn your ass back.  Wind blows, snow flows.  See that cornice grow?  Time to route veto

One hundred percent of Colorado’s snowpack is unstable. The Continental snowpack, found in the eastern front of the Rocky Mountains, is shallow, fluffy and faceted, and contains weak layers of snow that sick around longer. It’s much more dangerous that the Intermountain and Maritime snowpacks that extend West of the Rockies to the Pacific coast. 

Cracking and “whumpfing” -- the sound of snow collapsing -- are audible signs of instability and mean GTFO now. 

Cornices are overhanging masses of wind-blown snow over sharp terrain features, like ridges, that range from small, soft lips to large, hard 30-ft. overhangs. Cornices, even when walking above, should be avoided by a significant distance. 

Check your local weather avalanche conditions before venturing out into the backcountry.

Here are a few resources:

Colorado Avalanche Information Center (CAIC)

Bridger-Teton Avalanche Center 

National Weather Service 

Northwest Avalanche Center

Utah Avalanche Center 

Avalanche.org (national centers)

[morgandzak]

An Ode To Morgan Dzak, by Kylene Gilmore

For my National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) graduation, all the students had to draw names of classmates out of a hat to write something for graduation night. It was supposed to be a nice little somethin’ for fellow classmates as we handed off diplomas and saluted one another after 90-days in the backcountry. It’s hilarious because everyone in our 11-student group got their best friend, or rather, selected a person they admired dearly and truly connected with. My best friend, Kylene, picked my name and wrote this oh-so-spectacularly-Kylene poem about me. And honestly, it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, ever -- the purest, kindest, most loving and thoughtful gesture a human has ever made (and also the only thing that makes me sob uncontrollably anytime I even merely touch it). I love Kylene Gilmore dearly.... She also writes in all CAPS, AHEM:

WE FELL INTO  A MUTUAL WEIRDNESS BEFORE LEAVING TOWN (#) AND FROM THERE IT PROGRESSED IN SUCH AN UNCANNY WAY THAT TO QUESTION ITS UNIQUENESS WOULD MAKE A CLOWN FROWN.

IN THE WINDS ($) IT WAS NOT LONG BEFORE I BROKE MY FIRST WIND; (%) YOU STOOD BY MY SIDE AND TOOK THE STENCH IN STRIDE. CLIMBING UP GEIKIE (&) YOU FED ME FROZEN PASTA  IN MY ALTITUDE SICKNESS DELIRIUM. YOU LED US THROUGH THE DARKNESS  OF MORNING (*) AND SCRAMBLED UP BOULDERS WITH THE MAJORITY OF THE GROUP’S GEAR ON YOUR BACK TO A SUMMIT I’LL NEVER FORGET.

UNAWEEP CANYON  GOT  PRETTY GROOVY, GROUP POOPS TO THE  GROOVER WERE (+)  NEVER A DOOZIE. LAUGHING UNTIL I PEED MY PANTS, FANTASY QUEST, (@) CAN YOU  BELIEVE  THAT KATO (#) DOES CRACK? ($) YOUR IMAGINATION IS ENDLESS AND WHEN WE  ARE TOGETHER I FEEL  AS IF WE  GO TO NEW WORLDS  TOGETHER. TRAVEL DAYS ARE NEVER  A BORE. UNICORN TIME (%) AND HOT SHOWERS HAVE NEVER BEEN SO FUN.

I MISSED YOU  IN CANYONS (^^) BUT I HEARD THAT YOU  FLOURISHED. YOUR  NAVIGATION SKILLS WERE IN FULL EFFECT AND YOU BECOME MUCH MORE DIRECT. YOUR LEADERSHIP ROLE HAD NEVER BEEN BETTER AND I SAW  IT CARRY OVER  INTO THE  SNOWY  WEATHER. (+)

SKIING WAS WHERE YOU THRIVED, SHREDDING TOGETHER,  YOU’D  ALWAYS WAIT FOR ME WHEN I’D DIVE HEAD FIRSTR INTO THE SNOW. COOKING TOGETHER WALTER AND CHARLIE, ($) THE WHISPER LIGHTS DROVE THEM INSANE, BUT TEAMWORK MADE THE MEALS DYNAMITE.

EFFORTLESSLY YOURSELF MAKES YOU SO MUCH FUN; HARDWORKING  AND DETERMINED TOO. I’VE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE LINE UP THEIR ZIPPERS (**) SO PERFECTLY. YOU’RE QUIRKY, SPUNKY AND VIBRANT BEYOND THE COLOR  SPECTRUM. I VALUE YOUR  FRIENDSHIP AND IT WAS THE MOST  UNEXPECTED GIFT I RECEIVED FROM THIS COURSE. SO BEFORE THIS GETS  TOO SAPPY, ALL I WANT TO SAY IS... THAT’S CAHHHHHDZ! MARAGARET, YA OLD BAG. 

========================

# The NOLS Semester for Outdoor Educators group left Lander, Wyo. on Sept. 15, 2018 for a backpacking section in the southern Wind River Range

$ Wyoming’s Wind River Mountain Range 

% Kylene had notorious farts

& Mount Geikie, a 12,300′ peak in the Sheep Desert/southern Wind River Range

* It was pitch black out in the wee hours of the AM for our Geikie summit bid

+ A Groover is a metal box people poop in on expeditions where digging cat holes/latrines is not feasible for human waste disposal

@ Fantasy Quest: one of the many ridiculous games we played around a campfire ring during an October base camp for rocking climbing in Colorado’s Unaweep Canyon

# Kato is Michael Kato, a guy from our NOLS group

$ An inside joke from the ‘Fantasy Quest’ game and not to be taken literally

% Unicorn Time is a name one of our instructors, Alyssa, called time for skincare/hygiene/whatever you wanna call it

^^ Kylene and I were split into different groups for the month-long technical canyoneering section in southeastern Utah

+ Snowy weather marks the transition to winter section -- backcountry skiing in the Wyoming Range

$ Kylene and I cooked a lot together in the winter section, and we called ourselves “Walter and Charlie” as kitchen alter egos

** A nod to my slightly OCD tendencies 

Photos taken by Sara Sneath and Jennifer Grasso.

[morgandzak]

The writing just isn’t there...

It’s very personal, you see.

I don’t know where I regressed in my writing to go back to diary-esque entries that are completely an overexposure of my inner thoughts, or so I think...

Is that such a bad thing? I suppose I can share certain things, but I’ve found myself writing such long posts only to throw them into a desktop folder never to be clicked again.

Perhaps I’m just going through this really cathartic period right now, and that’s just the style of writing I need.

Can’t you relate though? Isn’t this something everyone goes through, sans the writing thing? Just, an off period... An introspective time when certain disciplines fall through the cracks -- not in a bad way, though. Simply making way for other pressing changes and growth. 

A good thing, probably. But sometimes it’s so easy to be so hard on yourself. 

A picture of higher times: 

Some unnamed 13,000-ft. peak in the Weminuche Wilderness, taken Aug. 30, 2017

[morgandzak]

I don’t know where I fell off this blogging thing...

I meant to keep track of my year in the wilderness, I truly did.

But sometimes it’s hard to bring other people along on your journey when you’re trying to figure out what the hell’s going on and what the hell’s happening to you.

Sometimes it’s just difficult to bring people in when you just want to be left alone.

And sometimes it’s difficult to bring people in when you’re like, “Well hold on now! I got about 4,000 photos and 1,000 videos I need to go through first.”

I’ll guess I’ll start trying to process what happened to me out there...

[morgandzak]

The Water Issue, Pt. I

There is no water in New Mexico. That is all I have to say.

[morgandzak]

PHOTOS: Crazy Cook to Lordsburg, N.M.

The first 85-mile stretch from the Crazy Cook monument at the U.S.-Mexico border to Lordsburg was arguably the most difficult section of the Continental Divide Trail in New Mexico for Boomer and me. Not only are you forced into the trail mentality by getting dropped off in the middle of nowhere, but you’re also in to get your feet ripped to shreds by the rugged terrain. Water is an extreme challenge: when the burden of water isn’t weighing on you physically, it is mentally.

[morgandzak]

The Food Issue, Pt. I

How the hell do we keep running out of food on the trail?

Boomer and I aren’t even a week into our Continental Divide Trail adventure and I maybe have a couple bars and a Ziplock full of instant potatoes left.

We talked so much about food before we left the trip, and we always figured we were overthinking the food situation — we’ve never run out of food before; why would we now?

But the thing is, when I packed my food for the first 85-mile stretch from Crazy Cook to Lordsburg, I packed it for how I ate on our sections along the south San Juans last summer.

2018 is a different Morgan. 2018 is a bottomless pit-Morgan. And how was I supposed to know what an insatiable appetite I’d have on-trail? I couldn’t have known.

Bottomless pit-Morgan is terrifying, expensive and on the verge of sugar addiction. Please help.

[morgandzak]

Dropped at the Border: The Shuttle to Crazy Cook may or may not look like a kidnapping

The Continental Divide Trail Coalition runs shuttles from Lordsburg, N.M. down to the Crazy Cook monument at the CDT’s southern terminus along the U.S.-Mexico border. The shuttles, which are two big rental pick-up trucks, wind along the Big Hatchet Mountains on rugged, bumpy dirt roads. 

Instagram users have brought to my attention this looks like some kind of crazy Hollywood-esque kidnapping scene. In a way, it kind of is a real-life “Naked and Afraid,” except we’re fully clothed and have 20+ pounds of survival shit.

[morgandzak]

The illest.

Enchantment, they say.