What She Remembers by Kandi Maxwell

Photo by Joshua Woroniecki via Unsplash

She’s backpacked hundreds of miles throughout Northern California’s backcountry—The John Muir Trail, Ansel Adams Wilderness, Yosemite, Sequoia, King’s Canyon, the Trinity Alps, Mount Whitney, and Mount Shasta to name a few. 

She’s shocked at how easily these names flow through her mind—the same brain that continually fogs up, leaving gaps of missing words in sentences. Pauses in places as she tries to speak. But these wild places stick to her like wet leaves on her boots, and over the years, they have grown into vines embedded tightly around her heart. 

She often thinks in images, and although some visions have vanished, she doesn’t forget the splendor of rugged granite peaks, the enchantment of grassy meadows filled with pink shooting stars, purple lupine, and scarlet monkey flowers, or the sight of a deep-blue alpine lake on a hot, dusty day. 

She remembers the feel of sweat dripping onto her headband as she hikes, the soggy socks in her leather hiking boots, her hot feet, and later, a soft breeze on her naked skin before jumping into an icy lake. The way she would hyperventilate in quick breaths once submerged into pools of snow melt. Yet afterwards, how delightful to lie down on hot granite rock; to feel its warmth seep into her bones. 

She can’t forget the vanilla-like smell of the tall Ponderosa pines, the scent of the silvery California sage brush, or strong coffee boiling over a campfire. She remembers the sound of water rushing over stones in the creeks she crosses, her own breath and pounding heartbeat as she trudges up the mountain, the howling winds on a treeless ridge, and coyote songs on cold starry nights.

She remembers the skills she learned in the high country. She still gathers kindling to build a fire to burn downed branches and brush on her property. She carries wood into the house, builds a fire in the wood stove. She can cook an entire meal on a tiny camp stove if needed. She lives off grid. She knows how to take a bucket bath. Pee in the woods.

*

Last week she saw the surgery nurse who will work with her during her second hip replacement. He asks about her degenerative discs and severe arthritis. She explains to the younger man how she pushed her body to its limits with backpacking, rock climbing, and other physically intense activities. At seventy-one, she is not surprised by the wear and tear.

The nurse asks if she would engage in such physical activity again if it would have prevented two hip replacements. She smiles. Tells him, “No regrets.” 

The nurse, a surfer who almost died in a surfing accident says he’s back in the water again after the scare. A kindred spirit.

*

It will be winter soon, tree branches will be bare, the skies dark, and snow will mound on the forest floor. She knows the next three months will be rough as she takes time to heal. Her movements will be slow as she moves from a walker to a cane, then walking on her own. Still. There’s beauty in the body’s ability to adapt, to heal. To move through obstacles to reach its desired destination.

She knows she will never backpack again in those places she remembers so well, but once she’s tucked away in her off grid home in the Sierra, sitting in her well-worn rocker, wearing a soft-fleecy robe, looking out the large front-room window to a view of Madrone, cedars, oaks, and pine, she will relax and enjoy the quiet of her home away from pavement and population crush. Oh, the ravens will nag her, and winter winds will toss branches and down trees, but eventually she will grow stronger, use walking sticks to hike a small hill. Her gait will be slow and stiff, her hips tender as she navigates the wild vines and twigs that litter the forest floor. But she’ll reach the top where a chair is waiting, and the sun is setting, casting golden hues across the sky, lighting the trees in its glow.

Kandi Maxwell writes creative nonfiction and lives off-grid in Northern California. She is a retired English teacher and former back country guide. Her stories have been published in Hippocampus Magazine, The Raven’s Perch, The Offbeat, The Meadow and other literary journals and anthologies. Her memoir, Snow After Fire, was published by Legacy Book Press in 2023. Learn about Kandi at kandimaxwell.com.