The next day we woke up early, packed our bags and left for Paria. We started our hike with a quick visit to a slot canyon. The sun reflected off the narrow walls and illuminated us as we stretched out our arms to touch both sides of the canyon at once. I felt a big presence in the small space.
Despite my new company, being back in the Utah desert brought back memories of working in naturopathic medicine. In this job, I led backpacking trips for teenage girls experiencing mental health crises, but with limited training and support, it was difficult to provide them with the care they needed. felt powerless. Like a tiny grain of sand in a vast, dreary desert. Perhaps this memory caused my head to fill up the night before with thoughts of my impending helplessness.
After the slot canyon, it was a trip full of sun and sweat. Crossing the river brought some relief from the cool weather, but only a few hours after sunset our cheeks were starting to turn red from the sun. Sunny noticed that our faces were rapidly turning red and stopped us on our knees in the depths of the river. “As you know, Pariah Mud is one of the best sunscreens I’ve ever used,” she called us back. Then she reached into the water and applied a few drops of brown, clay-like earth to her face. The gasps from my fellow hikers matched my own surprise at this action. We all looked down at the mud hesitantly.
Finally, Claire reached into the river and drew a beaming smile on her face with a palmful of mud. I looked at the mud, then up at the flashing cameras of other hikers. I decided I was willing to risk getting a tan if it meant looking attractive in my new friend’s social media posts.
When I worked in naturopathic medicine, I remember that the women and girls I hiked with, students and staff alike, often sacrificed their health to keep up appearances. Despite our limited water supply, we washed our faces every morning and rubbed sage leaves into our skin to mask the smell of sweat, despite the leaves causing rashes on our sensitive armpits. .
I admired Claire as she happily smeared mud on her face, her laughter echoing through the valley. This act of self-love came naturally to her. She understood that sometimes allowing yourself to be dirty is actually the kindest thing you can do for your body. For the rest of us, it will take time to learn this lesson.
The miles flew by in good company and before we knew it we were sitting in camp preparing for a moonlit night’s dinner. Sunny hot water fed a dehydrated diet while we congratulated ourselves after a hard day’s work.
Chicken suckling pig in a bag has never tasted so good. I burned my tongue with a spoonful of rice and cabbage. I was too impatient to let the boiling mixture cool before eating. Despite this excitement, I still glanced at the calorie count on the back of the package, and the conversations I overheard told me that others around me saw it the same way.
By the end of the night, Sunny was walking around the camp helping us finish our backpacking meals. All that is left over must be carried on one’s back for the remaining miles. According to Sunny, this was not unusual. In fact, she often had to force hikers on AWE expeditions to finish their meals on the first night, telling them this was the fuel they needed to reach camp the next day.
I couldn’t help but compare this story to my own experience as a guide. I remember joining a group of girls one morning on a trip. Since it was breakfast time, I was expecting to smell warm oatmeal or cinnamon buns baking on the fire, but as I approached camp, there was no such smell. Instead, the girls sat in front of their backpacks drinking water, food bags and cooking utensils still packed from the night before.
When I asked why no one was eating, it turned out that another staff member was talking about the magical effects of intermittent fasting. Many of the girls were in the program for eating disorders and had a hard time resisting the temptation of this suggestion of calorie restriction. I spent the rest of my shift helping the girls see food as nutrition and self-care. I remember this being difficult, especially since these were ideas I myself had a hard time accepting.
I then compared this experience to the first time I took my partner backpacking. At his first dinner, he ate half of the meal he had prepared for the three-day trip. He had little concern for our limited food supply, let alone nutrition labels or calorie counts. He ate because he was hungry.