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A Turtle Without Its Shell

9/21/2013

9 Comments

 
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Last weekend Amber and I set off for our sixth (and likely last) backpacking adventure of 2013. We knew we wanted to launch our weekend get-away on Friday. We weren't paying attention to the date. Friday the 13th.

Normally we're not terribly supersticious - but an hour into the trip had us wondering if it was ill-fated. 

Amber had loaded the car while I wrapped up work in my home office before heading into the tedium of weekend rush hour traffic (and why is it called rush...?) Finally past the constipation on the Interstate, traveling a reasonable 50 MPH, Amber gasped, "Oh, no!" What? What? "I forgot our sleeping bags!"

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Should we head home for the bags and start again the next day? With a relatively open road finally in front of us, we rejected that dismal course. Instead we Googled our way to the nearest sporting goods store and picked up two of the cheapest bags they carried. Would their enormous polyester bulk even fit into our packs? Probably not, but we would deal with that later.

Back on the road, eager to make up for lost time and reach our destination before dark, Friday the 13th again reared its head.

"Oh, no!" What? What?

"Is that cop coming after us?"  Yes, he was - but amazingly he gave us only a cheerful warning. Maybe we weren't doomed after all.

It wasn't until we'd set up camp near our trailhead and settled in for some fireside Scrabble that I asked Amber to grab something from my backpack in the trunk.

This time she skipped the "Oh, no!" The stricken silence on her face when she came back from the car empty-handed said it all.

Our backpacks had never made it into the car. All the contents, we had in bins and stuff sacks. But our homes-away-from-home, the turtle shells we'd carried 100 miles around Mt Rainier two years earlier and since then on every trail we found the time for - they were resting comfortably in our guest bedroom back in Portland.

*      *      *

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Earlier in the summer, a turtle had appeared to me during a guided meditation. I claimed it as a symbol of protection, a reminder that I could draw up into myself and find guidance from within. That when my fires burned too hot, I could put my feet down on earth, slip into water, wag my head in the air.  

Slowing down, pacing yourself, emotional strength and ancient wisdom - these are the characteristics identified with the turtle totem.

I shouldn't have been astonished to arrive at Michigan Womyn's Music Festival to find that she, too, was calling forth the mighty turtle. Each year the Festival opens with a powerful ceremony tapping into timeless themes made relevant for a modern, multi-generational tribe. This year, the ceremony creators found 2013 reflected back to them in the 13 compartments on a turtle's back. The prop artists fashioned a bale of giant turtles (yep, a bale is what you call a bunch of these particular critters). Amazon warriors processed with them to the stage to the cheers of thousands of women and girls, united in that moment in this display of power and persistence. 

*      *      *

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I didn't realize how strongly I've come to identify with the turtle until Friday the 13th, there in the campground, when we realized we wouldn't be hoisting our packs onto our backs the next day.

A three-hour round-trip back to fetch them was out - we felt supersticious about what might befall us on the Interstate. We would have to settle for day hiking, our water bladders and snacks strapped to our bodies with bandanas.

As lovely as a day-hike could be, the draw to carry all I needed for a night in the woods, to be fully self-sufficient out in nature for a 36 hour stretch, continued to assert itself. 

And so, 20 minutes into our day hike, when we found a lakeside campsite with its own private huckeberry patch, we decided we could backpack after all, even without our packs. We left our water bladders to claim our space and returned to the car where we latched tent bag to food bag and slung them over one shoulder, lashed on gear and spare clothes with whatever straps we could find, and wrapped my arms around those ginormous sleeping bags.

Up the hill we trudged with our unwieldy loads, feeling very Beverly Hillbillies - and pretty darn inventive. 

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The apparently cursed trip turned out to be one of our very best. The rest of the weekend backpacker crowd bypassed our lovely lake in pursuit of further destinations. Once we had our homey camp set up we took a leisurely unfettered hike through miles of nearby lakes and meadows.

When we got back to camp at the end of the day, we dipped into the lake. Yes, that's an air mattress, also hand carried from the car - something that never would have made it on a "real" backpacking trip.

At dusk as the moon began rising over the lake, neighbors on the opposite shore brought out mandolin and fiddle and offered sweet lullabies to this charmed day.


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The next morning, fresh picked huckleberries for our oatmeal.

*      *      *

As day and night come into balance and summer yields to fall, may you enjoy the home life you find within, and that which you discover when you find yourself without your shell.

9 Comments
Tia
9/21/2013 09:34:15 am

What a lovely adventure and a reminder of what we can do and what we can do without.

Reply
Holly
9/21/2013 04:23:06 pm

Exactly - so well put, Tia, thank you.

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Rose Gagne'
9/21/2013 03:18:02 pm

Just returning from a harvest Equinox Fire Ceremony, and finding your story here Holly. Love the message of balance and re-balancing. Not a static point but a fluid flow ever changing as we we ask "where are we now?, what is needed? what are our resources and what needs to be sourced? From the turtles perspective....kick and glide, kick and glide, it's all in the rhythm of your heart... your true home.
All Love, Rose

Reply
Holly
9/21/2013 04:24:15 pm

Ah Rose, I'm kicking and gliding right now through your sweet reflection, thank you.

Reply
Sara St. Martin Lynne
9/21/2013 03:41:30 pm

Thank you, Holly. This was such a beautiful read.

Reply
Holly
9/21/2013 04:25:14 pm

Thank you, Sara SML, my turtle syster.

Reply
Lonnquist
9/29/2013 02:54:16 am

I just had the fun of reading about your (mis)adventure to Donna as we are sitting In our cozy little RV. We had a good laugh, thank you for the great entertainment!

Reply
Colleen
9/29/2013 04:38:31 am

Great Story, Holly; Rich and I got a good laugh! Loved it.

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Cleve Pinnix
9/30/2013 12:02:51 am

Howdy! Loved the story on the improvised backpack. Just so you two know - I'm the guy that got to a trailhead in the Great Smokies for a winter hike & discovered I'd forgotten my boots. Maybe we can get a group rate at the home for the permanently confused... Cleve.

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  • Holly Pruett Celebrant LLC – Creative Life Ceremonies from Cradle to Grave
  • Certified Life-Cycle Celebrant ® | Funeral & Wedding Officiant | Interfaith Minister
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