Hidden Gem.

Our adventure starts with a rather tight drive through the forest.

Battling through trees that licked all sides of the car, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hike I was getting myself into.

This wasn’t going to be an easy one, that much I was discovering, not one of those ordinary “walk through the woods” types.

After surviving the ambush of alders, we made a turn onto an unmarked road and made our way up up up into the mountains, rocks and potholes further adding suspense to what lie ahead.

Tucked in the heart of Cooper Landing, I first heard about about our hike, Cecil Rhodes, from my friend Shelby, whom I was driving with on this particular day. We had been in the middle of hiking Slaughter Gulch, another trail just across the way, and I remember hearing that it was harder than the one we were currently on. And the one we were on at the time was hard, very hard.

But this has been a summer of firsts for me in the hiking department: Skyline, Slaughter, China Poot Peak, Palmer Creek Trail. I felt I couldn’t let the word “hard” stop me from experiencing something potentially spectacular.

I knew it was going to be difficult, had nervously anticipated the journey for days, and after our bumbling drive up through the mountains, we finally arrived at the trailhead, an unmarked and unsuspecting clearing that led into the woods.

The trail began its ascent right at the start, and it didn’t let up until you got to the top. It was one of those toasty summer days, with temperatures rising into the seventies and as we plodded upward, one baby step at a time, a steady stream of sweat began making its way down my face.

It was a struggle, a steep steep struggle.

There were times when I stopped to catch my breath (as I felt it was literally running away from me), and thought, I don’t think I can make it. I mean, I honest to goodness believed I wasn’t going to be strong enough to get to the top, for every time I looked up, a looming peak stood proudly ahead, just out of reach.

But if this hike was easy, everyone would do it.

So I pushed on. I picked up my tired and heavy legs, whispered encouragements to my calves that were burning in exhaustion, and I hiked on, with Shelby leading the way.

And man, when I made it to the top, the view took my breath away.

(this hike as a whole took my breath away, figuratively and literally)

Standing atop crags that stood 4400 feet above Cooper Landing, I couldn’t help but allow a smile of satisfaction spread across my sweaty face.

I did it. I did it!

There was Slaughter Gulch, below. You couldn’t miss the Kenai River, the brilliant blue winding its way across the landscape and out to the Southern Peninsula. Surrounding me on all sides were magnificent mountains, and I felt that God’s creation was showcased before me, on full and brilliant display.

There’s a reason this hike isn’t in the guidebook of hikes to do in Alaska, why the route up the mountain isn’t an easy one to trek, or why there’s not a marker to the entrance to the Cecil Rhodes Trail.

It’s a hidden gem.

Despite the fact that it was the most difficult hike I’ve ever done, it was also the most rewarding. The struggle of finding the right driveway, of traveling through the bush and then having to plow straight up to the top made arriving at the peak that much more meaningful.

It’s amazing to experience places out there in the world that very few know about, that remain hidden and lie in wait for those who are adventurous and brave enough to tackle it, despite it being “hard.”

Course you gotta know the right people that can lead you to its waiting entrance (thank you Shelby!), but if you ever have the opportunity to hike something as extraordinary as Cecil, I encourage you to accept the challenge.

You won’t be disappointed.

Put it to Bed.

Every night, I go to bed with Ted.

Ted is just one of those guys that gets me, you know?

He accommodates my strange sleeping positions (which all revolve around where Guji lies, of course), he puts up with my many alarming wake ups whenever I think I see someone creeping across my closet. He doesn’t judge me when I drool, he keeps me warm, protects me, is deliciously stylish, and of course adores the fact that I sleep absolutely naked next to him.

Ted is also the brand of bedding I sleep on, Ted Baker, specifically.

You thought I had a lover, didn’t you?

Tricked you!

Apparently though, not every man I come into contact with thinks of my sleeping tendencies the same way as Ted does, especially in regards to what I (don’t) wear to bed.

See, the first time I had the pleasure of showing a man into my bedroom, I was insulted.

Standing statuesque at six foot two, it’s only fitting that I sleep in an above average captains bed, which is taller, just like me.

So when the boy entered my room, he took one look at my bed and said, “Well that bed is intimidating.”

Which wasn’t altogether a surprise to hear, considering I’ve been described as that word nearly all of my life. And I get it, not everyone can handle a whole lotta woman (or a whole lotta bed apparently). And after hearing that, I simply showed him the door.

The second time came more recently. I had an opportunity to show someone my house, someone that I really fancied, and I was once again.. dissapointed with the response.

He had been looking at my robe rack (vintage negligees and sheer nighties: yes, I have an entire rack dedicated to all of my robes) and of course we got on the subject of what one wears (or doesn’t wear) to bed.

I myself am a believer in sleeping naked. I cherish the after hours in which I can air out and feel nothing but Ted (my sheets, remember) under my body. I’m marvelously comfortable in my skin, enjoying the pleasure of lying in the nude. I simply cannot stand getting pajamas or underwear wrapped in my you know where whenever I turn over, so skin to sheets it is.

Maybe I’m weird, but I always embraced that side of me when I slept, and apparently all the men I meet don’t quite embrace it as lovingly as I.

After sharing this detail about my sleeping preferences, we were walking out of my bedroom and he said, “I’ll be sure to avoid sitting there,” motioning towards my bed.

(jokes on you Buster, I’ve sat in every corner of my house naked, including the fainting couch you were just sitting on)

I was stunned though. Floored. Was he kidding? Apparently no.

I guess when a beautiful woman tells you she sleeps in the nude, you avoid the bed she’s sleeping in and run right outta there.

“It’s contaminated, the bed has germs! It’s swarmed with sin from a heathen who sleeps *gasp* naked, absolutely naked! Avoid like the plague, run for your lives!”

That was how I felt, like this dirty and dastardly woman.

I didn’t know sleeping naked would have such an opposite effect on men!

But then I started thinking: maybe I’m inviting the wrong men into my house?

I deserve to be with a man who appreciates that about me, who sees my (lack of) nighttime attire as an invitation.

Wait wait wait, let me stop you there. You sleep naked? How about I sleep there naked too?

It’s also my house and my rules.

(also no shirt no problem)

As I continue to navigate the river of rocky relationships, I’m learning to discover who I am and what I deserve, and being made to feel dirty for sleeping a certain way is not what I want in a partner.

I’m also beginning to fully accept who I am and all the quirks that go with me (butt naked sleeping tendencies included), tired of letting someone else control how I feel, because I refuse to feel anything less than with a man.

With that said, I’m putting that subject to bed.

And you can bet I’ll be naked when I do.