On the road (more or less)

"Sooo what exactly are you doing with your summer?" Is a question I've been getting pretty regularly. Other variations include, "what are you doing here?" and "who are you?" and "where are you coming from/going to?"

Despite the regularity of these inquiries, I have yet to formulate a coherent, convincing response to a single one of them.

At the moment I am in Mission, South Dakota, which is part of the Rosebud Reservation, home of the Rosebud Sioux sitting in the house of a very kind 29-year old employee of the local Boys and Girls club, where I am helping out for the next week.

How did I get here? Honestly, I'm confused as well.

Way back in March I applied for a travel fellowship through the college to do a road trip out to Wyoming from my home in Washington to study conflicts between indigenous groups and outdoor recreationalists (mainly climbers) over sacred land formations. The idea was to use what I thought was my firm background in the environmental humanities to form some neat, poetic arguments about culture and landscape and what it means to be human. Oh, and get to spend time exploring and climbing in beautiful places. So well-intentioned. So good on paper...

So, I turned the trusty 2002 Subie Outback into a house, sewed some beautiful curtains that tragically fell down within the first day of travel, changed the oil with a little help, and hit the road in the direction of Bozeman, MT.

RIP

In retrospect, I should have anticipated falling in love with every place I visited and every person I met. Bozeman was supposed to be a two week stop on the way to Devils Tower, WY, but it turned into three. In Bozeman I stayed with my high school teammate/soulmate, Julia, and I had a blast exploring the area, making new friends, conducting a mediocre literature review, training, hanging out with Hannah Cole, and so much more. "I don't want to leave" I groaned as I hugged Julia goodbye on my last morning. "I'm just really a terrible nomad."

Good conversation topics for epic mountain runs: Why are all women's outdoor clothing options light blue and pink?

We don't find the snow, the snow finds us. 

JOY!!!!!

The legend herself!!!! Post-run Buddha bowl is absolutely the way to go. 

Julia convinced me to do a 10 mile trail race with her. Apparently I am way too susceptible to peer pressure. Also check out those matching frickin blue shoes. 

Drove to Yellowstone. Saw some tourists. Saw some steam. Then I went for a run by myself and felt a lot happier. 

Internal dialogue: I wonder if my tiny 15-year old canister of mace which I'm telling myself is bear spray is effective if you accidentally get charged by a bison...

Fox the dog on the roof. Most exemplary Bozeman scene you can imagine.

After Bozeman I hit the road again, this time equipped with some new podcasts and a stash of Junior Mints rapidly melting in my poorly air-conditioned car. Next stop: Devil's Tower: sacred site to over two dozen tribes and world-renowned climbing destination. Ed Gollin, a Williams music professor and climbing guide, had connected me with Frank Sanders, the owner of a Bed and Breakfast adjacent to the national monument and more or less a legend in the climbing world. Frank is really hard to describe, so everyone should watch this video to get some sense of the man's insane stoke and philosophical bend.

A subject of much controversy 

The Tower Featuring Jerry McJubjub 

Only a few days after I arrived at the Tower Frank informed me that he had gotten ahold of a contact on the Rosebud Reservation and I would be spending a week there "leaving tomorrow." So then he drove me the 4.5 hours with a quick stop for some adrenaline-pumping go-karting, dropped me off at the Boys and Girls club and drove away. They weren't exactly expecting me, but luckily someone had a spare room.

I've only spent two days on the reservation and I definitely haven't strayed far from white culture, but still my thinking has changed. It's hard to focus on my project, which feels very self-interested and dare-I-say exploitative, when I hear the stories the kids tell about their families and their lives. This is not the America we're supposed to be thinking of when we celebrate Independence Day. The thought of celebrating White America after seeing the cultures and lives we have ransacked in the name of "freedom" makes me feel fairly ill.

Clarity and purpose feel a little hard to come by at the moment, but for now I'm trying to shut up and listen and desperately hope I'm not doing any harm.

To that effect I have no idea where I'll end up, but in the very near future I'm going to try to go on a run and hope I don't get any limbs blown off in the fireworks wars I can hear happening outside my window. Wish me luck!

Lots of love,
Ivy

P.S. Happy birthday Jack!!! Make good choices!!