A crying girl, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a supermarket parking lot. Not exactly the elements for an epic summit. But having missed the turn-off for our hike, we were now on the wrong side of Lake George in upstate New York, eating the lunches we were supposed to be having on the peak. …

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My legs stung with a throbbing pain from my first sunburn of the summer: a livid red. The pain served as a mark of passage from a dark Montana winter and dreary spring that had barely any sun for my vitamin-d starved body. I watched the river’s muddy waters seethe as winter loosened its hold …

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On a dark night last year, my closest friend Laura and I landed in Honolulu: backpacks, skateboards, and sleeping bags in tow. I had just spent months toiling as an intern at a major publishing company in New York, freelancing and genuflecting to editors—not to mention moving from sublet to sublet. Something had to give. …

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The leathery-skinned man with a southern Missouri accent had dropped us off at the gravel boat ramp. His rusty pickup truck had barely survived the fifteen miles from our campground to the river. But there we stood: paddles in hand, hats on our heads and a tangled blue stretch of river before us. I was …

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The famous Italian director, Federico Fellini, was often known to frequent one of his favorite cafés, Canova, in the Piazza del Popolo in Rome. The hefty bar sits on the edge of the piazza, surveying the gaping hole below the Borghese gardens that circulates traffic, careening cocktail tables, and, of course, people. The recent influx …

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As a woman, I’m often asked why I take solo hikes. Why be on your own? they say. Aren’t you afraid to go hiking alone? The answer is both simple and complex. I hike alone for the serenity and quiet of the journey. Being afraid doesn’t come into play. Being out in nature allows me the time to contemplate my …

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I grew up on Syokimau Farm in Kenya, not far from the Ngong Hills. My mother and I lived in a converted chicken slaughterhouse on the former sisal plantation about 15 miles south of Nairobi. The whitewashed walls were high and the building cavernous. A swing hung from the ceiling in my bedroom and the …

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It took three and a half weeks until I felt compelled to brush my hair. Ponytails and finger combing had become routine. Sleeping in a tent most nights and spending days either in the car or traversing around nature quickly lends to a lifestyle of practicality. I cannot seem to break the habit of filling …

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It’s official: I have made it to the age where my social media feeds are full of engagement rings, weddings, and babies. Don’t get me wrong, I love celebrating all of these events…but at the same time, it often seems that society doesn’t see a woman as a whole human until she has checked off …

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The Rocky Mountain Front in Montana was my backyard. I grew up incredibly fortunate to spend summers constructing clumsy wooden forts in forests of Englemann Spruce (Picea engelmannii), tubing down shallow Spring Creek (ever uneasy about mountain lion rumors), and unenthusiastically participating in team sports (by standing aloof in the outfield). But my best memories …

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