Another First: 2018 Scarborough Ren Fest

Spellbound. We're going to go ahead and go with the "better late than never" mentality here, or else we'll pretend that I'm not eight months late in writing about my first renaiassance festival, okay? For real though, the when I found out Jared's parents were coming to Texas to go to the Scarborough Ren Fest just south of Dallas, and had bought us tickets to meet them there as well, I couldn't have been more excited! I'd never been to a ren fest before, though I have several friends who have and they always came back with awesome pictures and merchandise. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend a day or two dressed up as someone else, along with a ton of other people also dressed up as someone else, all while eating, drinking, attending shows, and shopping? I had some idea of what to expect, including people dressed up in period costumes and some dressed up as mythical creatures, Olde Timey buildings and decor, and some jousting. I was not disappointed, but there was also so much more.

As it was my very first ren fest and I didn't have much time to prepare, I unfortunately did not go dressed up as anything other than a human icicle. It was freezing, given that it was mid-April in the south, and despite the multiple layers I was wearing, I couldn't stop shivering. We remedied my problem within the first hour by finding me my very own cloak, something I've wanted ever since I watched Lord of the Rings. And what better place to channel my inner Tolkien nerd than a ren fest? Aside from keep me deliciously warm, the cloak did an excellent job of hiding my street clothes and I felt more at ease surrounded by fair staff and guests, most of whom were dressed up somehow or another. Including Jared and his parents. Did you know Jared owns a kilt? Like, A real one, not one of the ones you buy off the rack for Halloween. Becase why wouldn't he? And my in-laws looked fantastic in their ensembles as well, with Renee's dress making me just a bit envious. Now I want something like it for the next time we go to a ren fest!

We wandered through the village buildings all weekend, pausing at any shop that caught our somewhat-divided attention, with Renee and I stopping at jewelry and scent stores and Jared and Chuck stopping at metal-working and weapons shops. We also couldn't help but to stop at the food stalls, where Renee and I shared a crepe called "The Princess" - a gigantic crepe smothered in strawberries, chocolate, and whipped cream. It was so good we got it twice. Of course, beer and wine flowed in every direction, and although I had begun our adventure with the impression that ren fests might be geared a little bit more towards kids I quickly adjusted that assumption as the day progressed. Sure, there were kids around, but more than anything the ren fest was a way for adults to relax and forget about the real world in favor of a magical one for a short while.

Quite a few of the shows we visited were definitely not for children. Aside from the bad language, the raunchy topics brought up had us all in tears of laughter, and likely (hopefully) would have gone over the heads of any kids who happened to be present. And guess what!! There was jousting!! I was stoked when we viewed the schedule and saw a jousting competition on our first morning there and all but ran over to watch. Was it the as-seen-on-TV knocking each other off of horses? No. But it was still gallopping towards each other to get rings on their giant poles, which was rather impressive regardless. I certainly couldn't have done it.

I'm still not entirely sure if we even made it all the way around the village by the time we left on the second day. The place was huge and I got turned around more than once, overwhelmed by the people and colors and activites around us. Of course, you all know I avoid crowds like the plague so going to a ren fest in the first place is a huge step for me; it was only a matter of time before I became a little smothered. I would probably still be wandering the place right now if I hadn't had Jared with me. We walked away with several treasures to call our own, including some spice cream, jewelry, and my cloak. I absolutely can't wait until next year, where I'm bound and determined to buy myself a costume! I'm thinking maybe a dark navy dress, and perhaps another cloak? I guess we'll see!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Old Faithful

I think a visit to see Old Faithful is on just about everybody's bucket list, and for good reason. How many active, predictable geysers are there in the world, and how many of them are accessible to everyone without having to make a grueling hike? But to be honest, Alisha and I were going to pass on a visit, instead wanting to focus on other hot springs and geysers that would hopefully draw less crowds. That, and the fact that we'd already visited and seen Old Faithful with our family years back on our annual childhood family vacations resulted in not even having Old Faithful on the tentative itinerary for our Yellowstone visit this year. So when we woke up early and decided to see the geyser on a whim we hadn't checked the eruption times or anything other than marking its location on our park map, which meant we showed up half an hour late for the early morning eruption, or nearly an hour early for the next one. We decided to hang around and wait for it, pacing the almost empty boardwalk while trying to both stay warm and find the perfect photo opportunity. In the end I settled down on a bench that would put the sun directly across from me, meaning I would be shooting into the light when it came time for the eruption. When the crowds gathered and the tell-tale hiss of steam and rumble of water announced the geyser was gearing up to explode I started clicking away, and promptly quit when the eruption actually happened. There was something about being there, in that time and place, seeing what amounts to a quintessential Yellowstone experience in person, that caused me to stop and stare with my mouth opened in awe at the raw power of heat and water. I'm absolutely sure I even had tears in my eyes as I watched. It was only after a few seconds that I restarted snapping photos, but I will always remember the reverence I felt at being there. And to think, Alisha and I were going to skip this.

Hoodoo

Excited. Ok, confession time: you know that thing people do where they make shit up as they go along and hope everything works out for them? Yeah, I was totally doing that when I decided to take a cat hiking with me. I've wanted an adventure cat ever since I began travelling, and I already travel with my dog(s) as often as I can. I've hiked miles and miles with Callie and Ghost through forest, desert, prairie, and more, so I know what it takes to care for an animal while on the trail. Surely a cat couldn't be too different from a dog? It's not like I did it on a whim, though, either. I'd researched (blogs, outdoor magazines, social media groups, etc) for years on how to choose and mold an effective adventure cat, so I wasn't going in to this totally blind. I knew everything depended on the personality of the cat, who had to be chill enough that potential scary situations wouldn't make them run off, but also had to be outgoing enough to embrace changing scenes and conditions with ease.

For as long as I can remember wanting an adventure cat, I've had an image in my mind of a little orange and white kitten wearing a sky-blue harness, walking next to me along a trail somewhere. I don't even know where the image came from; perhaps I saw a picture somewhere once a long time ago and I picked it up and ran with it, or perhaps it was a dream I had and decided to make a reality. I have no idea. All I knew is that one day I would have my little orange kitten, and his name would be Hoodoo.

I had been having a really, really bad week when my husband came home late from work one day this past July. He was late enough that I had started to worry something had happened to him, but my relief when I saw him pull into our driveway shifted into curiosity when he pulled a carrier out of the back seat of the car. Now, in our life pulling a carrier out of the car almost always means I'm going to be thrilled; through our work and our own inability to say no to an animal in need we've had more than twenty different species of animals come through our front door, and I keep a running list of the number and types of animals we've housed permanently or temporarily. Seeing a carrier, when I knew all of our own animals were accounted for, meant Jared was bringing home something else for us to care for and I could hardly wait for him to get inside so I could coo over whatever he'd brought me. When I finally glimpsed inside the carrier, though, I stopped dead. He'd brought me kittens!!! As in, plural! I immediately sat down on the floor in front of the carrier and coaxed two nervous kittens out into the light, and nearly burst into tears when I realized one of them was a little orange tabby. The other was a light grey tabby seal point, and both sported adorable little ear tufts that delighted me. Usually Jared and I have a discussion about whether or not we're fostering an animal or keeping it, but I knew without even opening my mouth that these kittens were ours.

Hoodoo and his sister, Rey, took a few days to adjust to our household, but once they did it became immediatly clear that Hoodoo was the kind of cat who would make an ideal adventure kitty. He proved himself to be outgoing yet cuddly, and without any trouble he made friends with the others in the house. He became incredibly attached to me, to the point where he now follows me around the house and even comes when he's called. His favorite place is up on my shoulders and we've figured out a way for him to ask to be held when he wants up. I know it sounds crazy, but cats really can talk if you know how to listen! I had a trip to hike 14ers in Colorado already planned for the end of August, and it didn't take much to talk myself into bringing my kitten with me. A quick check with my travel partner, Torrey, and we were all set to take a kitten hiking with us! And it was around that time that I started to make shit up as I went.

Ideally you start adventure cats young, only a couple of months old when the world hasn't taught them to find comfort and safety in their own home. Hoodoo and Rey were only about 12 weeks old when they came to us, so age and a cynical world view weren't a problem. We were car camping in established campgrounds, and I was able to turn the back seat into something of a kitty refuge complete with a litter box, food and water, toys, a carrier/hide box, and lots and lots of blankets. Hoodoo spent the vast majority of his car time on either my lap or Torrey's, where he alternated between sleeping in the most adorable positions and playing with anything he deemed worthy. Hoodoo spent the first few days of travel either on my shoulder or in his own little travel satchel at my hip, as I was way too afraid to let him out of my arms. We spent a few days in Manitou Springs during the Pikes Peak Marathon, and we couldn't so much as walk down the street without someone stopping us to ask about Hoodoo. He soaked up the attention like a sponge, purring constantly and leaning into anyone who scratched his ears, even gracing a couple of special people by climbing from my shoulder onto theirs.

It was on the trail, though, that he really glowed. We were still learning during our first couple of mountains, but by our third and fourth (Grays/Torreys) Hoodoo and I had a mutually understood language that allowed both of us to be comfortable. Hoodoo spent most of his time on my shoulder and pack, shifting every so often to look ahead or behind as the miles passed. Occasionally he would meow in my ear and let me know he wanted down, so I'd lower him to the trail and he would walk along with Torrey and I as we went. He was always on a leash attached to my wrist, so he couldn't go more than six feet from me, but he loved walking along the edge of the trail, sniffing bushes and chasing flies. Our pace slowed down when Hoodoo was walking, but I didn't mind so long as there wasn't a threat of bad weather. When he was done walking he'd meow and put his paws on my knee and stretch, so I'd pick him back up and put him on my shoulder again. If it was raining, (snowing, hailing, sleeting) or too windy, Hoodoo burried himself inside the front of my jackets against my chest and stomach, sometimes popping his head out of the collar to look around, but mostly remaining hidden from the elements. I got more than a few weird looks from fellow hikers who noticed the lump under my jackets, which always turned to delighted surprise when Hoodoo showed himself. I had more strangers take pictures of me (I know it was of Hoodoo, but I was still in them by proxy) than I've had in my entire life. It was a strange feeling to be the center of attention when I normally avoid drawing attention to myself, but if one little adventure kitten could bring happiness to the mutual suffering of hiking 14,000 foot mountains, then who am I to deny it?

By the end of the week, with six mountains under his paws, Hoodoo was an old pro at Adventure Kitten-ing. He had no fear of the tent, curling up inside my sleeping bag every night except when he decided to be a holy terror and party at 2am. He knew how to handle the rain and wind, and had figured out how to walk next to me and keep the leash from tangling. The only thing that really seemed to bother him were dogs, and I made sure he was always secure on my shoulder any time we met one. (Because, honestly, I was nervous of the dogs too. Who knew if they were cat-killers?) With such a successful first adventure with a kitten in the mountains, we're already planning next year's trip. Torrey and I have a goal to hike Colorado's 14ers, and we'd love for Hoodoo to be the first adventure kitty to summit all of them too! Of course we'll be travelling lots more in between mountain climbing adventures, and I can't wait to see where my little orange adventure kitten and I end up next. 

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Rafting the Grand Canyon

I know it's hard to see in this picture, but there are two rafts on the Colorado River! On our second day in the Grand Canyon my sister and I finally got an overlook of the river, still more than a thousand feet below us, and we were treated to a glimpse of a couple of river runners down on the river. I absolutely love white water rafting, and rafting the Colorado River has always been a dream of mine. Some day I'm going to save up enough to take a week-long rafting trip along the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. It's one of my bucket-list items!

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you'd be interested in rafting with me! Let's start planning!