Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Braving the Biffy to Find the North Star


I am not sure what part bugs me to most: the dirt and sand all over everything, trying to make meals without the benefit of refrigeration or a pantry, the ocean water activities, or the biffy.

I am afraid the biffy makes the headliner as the part of camping that I hate the most. When one enters the special needs department of bodily output after two kids, endless trips uphill and downhill to the rank Porta Potty hold little appeal. My biggest worry is I am not going to make it in time and disgrace myself. And looking at other people's crap really is something that I don't miss at all once we return home. 

My husband assures me that we were not even really camping. Renting a tent cabin at Two Habors is merely "roughing it". It's the wimpy version of camping. I'd hate to experience the real thing. No toilet thingy at all, no me. That's that.

How did I manage to sum up the inner strength to go on this journey? Okay, that's a little strong. But I did have to suck it up and take one for the team. I was not overly enthralled to face the parts of camping I felt uncomfortable with. I did it for Horse Girl.

Five years ago we crossed the ocean on the Catalina Express to spend a couple days in the sun, surf and nature at the Two Habors camp site. Horse Girl was ten. The Bee was five, still a nursling. It was a magical trip for the girls.

The Entrepeneur loves the outdoors; as an enthusiastic and able camper (former Boy Scout) he is in his element. If the girls had been camping with another me, they would have been miserable (I'm a wimpy scaredy cat and can hardly light the propane stove). Their dad brings adventure into their lives and, thank the stars above, Horse Girl and the Bee don't take after me in the hiking and outdoor adventure department. They are more like their dad -- sure-footed goats on the trail, confident mermaids in the water.

Horse Girl requested to go to Catalina this summer. The Entrepeneur and I had originally thought to take the girls to the Grand Canyon. But Horse Girl rarely requests anything -- she is not generally a demanding kid. This gentle request was something that needed to be listened to. 

It had been a really rough year: adjusting to high school (although despite everything I do get motherly bragging rights that she did do pretty darn great academically, especially considering all her personal struggles that were along for the ride in addition to all the school crap), facing the internal challenges Horse Girl has been dealing with, dealing with therapists and trying to figure out how to best navigate this journey of adolescence. 

I really didn't fully understand Horse Girl's Catalina request until we got there. And in my worst moments, when I wanted to bitch and complain about camping, I had to hold my tongue because I knew this trip was not about me. It was about her. 

When I hiked into the campsite on that first day, I thought about the first time we had made the trip. Horse Girl was ten. Very close to the Bee's age, actually about 6 months younger. Ten. It's such a lovely age. A girl is still full of her own power and strength. She has not gone through all the changes of puberty yet and with it all the baggage that comes with adolescence.  

And that's when I understood. I understood that she was trying to get that back. That feeling of personal strength and power. Her belief in herself and that she could do anything. The feeling of safety in the circle of her family. This realization nearly brought me to my knees with heartache. 

And then, to further mark the symbolism of this trip, Horse Girl got her period. She had been really upset (basically flipping out) before the trip about the possibility of this happening, but then forgot about it in her excitement (maybe it was really just denial). At first, I felt bad about the timing, but I think in the end it was a good thing. She was open with the family about the situation (she had always been extremely private about her cycles even with me) and handled it with grace. It was, as they say, a learning opportunity. 

There were no electronic/internet devices allowed (our own family policy for the trip) and physical activity filled most every moment: walks up and down the hill to the beach, swimming in ocean, snorkeling, kayaking, walks into town and back, walks to the biffy,  and hikes to interesting destinations like the USC Marine Lab. 

Just so you don't get the wrong impression and think I was doing all of that, mostly the Entrepeneur and the the girls were doing the swimming, kayaking and snorkeling. It was really windy (and therefore a cold,  brrrrr) and even though I had managed to get into the water the first time we visited Catalina (it's very gentle water due to the habor so it's perfect for the non-adventureous like me) I didn't even swim until the third day when the Entrepeneur found a private cove that had no wind.

The first day we got the kayak, the Entrepeneur put the girls in and made them figure out how to row it back to the campsite beach themselves.  I was freaking out, but they did it. They were stuck by a boat in the harbor for a bit, but Horse Girl took the reins and played the teacher to her sister while the Entrepeneur and I made the hike back from town to the campsite beach. Fathers help girls to feel capable. Thank you, Entrepeneur!

By the glow of the campfire, we enjoyed the stars while stuffing ourselves with the sticky contents of S'Mores. Horse Girl pointed out the North Star. We wondered how sailors navigated by the North Star. There are people who know how to do that -- find their way by knowing where the North Star is.

The next day the Entrepeneur took us on an adventure to the private cove that I talked about. It's near the USC Marine Lab which is a protected area where an amazing array of fish, leopard sharks, manta rays and other sea life live. The Bee and I walked the two miles to the site; Horse Girl and the Entrepeneur took the kayak. I wasn't sure what the hell I was going to do while everyone was snorkeling, but necessity called for a pack mule to bring the food and supplies and walk one child to the  destination since the kayak only holds two people -- I was the pack mule. Since I didn't know what the area looked like, I was just hoping for a dry, non-scary spot to read my book while everyone had fun.

I was beginning to feel a little grumpy about the whole camping experience. Mainly because I really wanted to be a good sport and swim and stuff, but it was really hard for me. I wanted to be good example of what women can do, but I really wasn't. I was just me with my own hang-ups and fears.

So when the Entrepeneur came back after dropping the Bee off at the secret place after picking her up on the rocky beach at the Marine Lab where we stood and then expected me to get in the kayak with the huge backpack of supplies to bring me to the secret spot, I felt a little alarmed -- I sure as heck didn't want to scramble up wet, slippery rocks somewhere. I was expecting to sit on my ass waiting patiently, not being part of the adventure.

I am not sure what made me get into that kayak. I think the large group of kids and adults that had just arrived at the beach in their dinghies and donning wetsuits right where we were made getting into an emotional scene with the Entrepeneur less appealing. And the backpack had all the supplies, including mine, so I couldn't just let it go without me. I didn't even have a life vest on and was holding my breath the whole way while the Entrepeneur shouted at me to look at the fish below. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee...

Then the secret place revealed itself. A little rocky beach at low tide, surrounded by great cliffs and rocks. Enclosed, private and beautiful. Magical. Okay, suck it up, lady. The Entrepeneur was right. And we made it without tipping over. I was alive. And dry.

While the Bee and the Entrepeneur took their turn snorkeling (Horse Girl went out first before we got to the secret spot -- two mile hike, remember?) Horse Girl got me into the water (finally) and we had a good time swimming. Actually, I loved it -- there was no wind, it was a totally protected spot. The water was smooth and beautiful.

The Cave
She showed me how to use the snorkel mask (not my idea, hers) -- which really freaked me out since you can't breath in through your nose -- and I got to see the kelp, seaweed and some water creatures. Not the good ones, though. I wasn't brave enough yet to go into the bay to see the fish and the sharks, yet. Not because of the creatures, but because I was having a hard time adjusting to mouth breathing without panicking.

The girls and the Entrepeneur spent hours swimming with the sea creatures. Exploring the wonders of the ocean and exploring a cave before the tide started coming in. I felt so happy that he could bring this magic into their lives. That he could help them explore and seize the day. To own their place in the world. To marvel at the beauty of nature. To believe in themselves.

I felt extreme gratitude.

On the way back, Horse Girl and I took the two mile hike on dirt road back to camp.  She spoke of the importance of being physical in her life (which was interesting in that she had been a complete couch potato since school ended). Being away from Facebook, instant messaging, texting on her phone, and watching TV, she felt much freer. Days spent swimming, walking and exploring agreed with her.

I told her this was a North Star point for her -- physical activity. Your North Star consists of  the internal compass points you use to keep your life on track; when you get off track you need to remember your North Star so that you keep yourself on the right path and don't go adrift. More than one thing can be your North Star and you are discovering those things. She made a discovery.

Her internal compass which guided her to camping in Catalina was spot on. I am glad she listened to her inner voice. I am glad we listened to her.

As the boat back to San Pedro left the dock to bring us back to our everyday lives, I felt a strong tightness take hold in my chest. I did not expect to feel sadness and longing leaving the dirt and the biffies, but I felt acutely that this trip was a sacred moment in time. A unique chapter in our history of our family. If we came back five years from now, when Horse Girl would be twenty and the Bee fifteen, everything would be different. A whole new dynamic.

I stared at the island for a long time.

I felt grateful for the magic that we encountered during our trip. Grateful for the experience of being together as a family knowing that the next years hold many changes. Grateful for the strength and competence Horse Girl found within herself.

I hope that she can hold on to those feeling and experiences -- make them a part of her internal compass to guide her when she is feeling lost and unsure on her path to becoming a woman. May her North Star shine bright within her -- and always be there to guide her.

P.S. My personal discovery was that I actually loved kayaking! the Entrepeneur and I took an early morning jaunt on our last day there (at my request), so hopefully I am somewhat redeemed in the adventure department in my girls' eyes.


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