My friend Eric texted me, asking, “Miho, I’m at the Outside Fest meeting. Who do you know/who have you worked with at Outside Magazine?” He works to bring events and venues to Civic Center Park in Denver, Colorado as one way to build partnerships with local community members and businesses. When he came to Golden for dinner the other day, he mentioned that he was working with Outside Magazine and organizing the Outside Festival in the park this weekend. I told him I wanted to go. The event wasn’t free and Eric ran out of his share of free tickets. When I received his message, I searched for Outside Magazine articles that featured me in the past and the names of each article’s writer who worked with me. I sent him the names of these people and the link to the articles. Soon, another text came in from him that said, “I got you a ticket!”

Incredible. I thought it was a sign that it was meant to be. This theme of “It was meant to be” was consistent for the next 2 days of the event. 

On Day 1, Eric asked me to meet him and Matt, his husband, at their home in Denver. The plan was to carpool to the event from there. When he asked for my ETA, I texted him that I would start hitchhiking around 3 pm and once I had a ride, I would let him know my ETA. Eric responded with “Hitchhiking? Hitchhiking is not safe.” Then he started acting like my guard dog, giving me all options for public transportation and even offering to pick me up in Golden. I told him I could figure this out myself so not to worry. At 3 pm, I stood at my usual spot on Washington Avenue. It took a while but eventually, Jen, a resident in Golden, stopped and asked me, “Do you need a ride?” I said yes. She was going in the opposite direction so I said, “Well, usually, hitchhiking works when the driver is going in the direction the hitchhiker wants to go. You don’t need to give me a ride.” She said that she was thinking of a few things she could do in the afternoon and insisted that she could give me a ride. So there we went! I enjoyed our conversation in the car. She understood how important it is to stay connected to our bodies and listen to the signs from the universe. I appreciate people like Jen. When I showed up at Eric‘s home, he couldn’t believe that I hitchhiked from Golden to his house. I told him the story and he said, “You mansplained to her what hitchhiking was and still got a ride?” Yes. It was meant to be. 

At the event, there were a lot of people. The music was playing on the main stage. Outdoor brands and nonprofit organizations’ booths were getting people’s attention. There was a long line for every food truck. A climbing competition was going on at the climbing wall. I noticed that both DJs of the competition were Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), thinking it was rare. Then I realized that, of course, it was Eric, working with Outside Magazine. Together, they intentionally created a venue to communicate that BIPOC belongs in the outdoors.

My mobility was limited so we slowly moved through the crowd. Eric knew everyone. Every few feet we walked, somebody would come to him and he talked. One of these people was Michael, a good friend of Eric and Matt. As we started talking, he said he was on the Continental Divide Trail Coalition board until recently and was very familiar with the trail. We hit off on the topic of the CDT and I made a wonderful connection with Michael.

Speaking of connections, I found a NOLS booth in the rows of outdoor education nonprofits. I worked for them in the early 2000s and was excited to see their presence at the festival. I stopped by and met Jeremy and Kenzie. Outdoor education folks are down-to-earth and easy to talk to. When I told them about my CDT adventure, Kenzie mentioned that she works at Three Peaks Ranch, which brings resupply to all NOLS courses in the Wind River Range in Wyoming. She gave me her contact and kindly offered to help me resupply since the CDT is close to the ranch. In addition to connecting with NOLS folks, my eyes froze at the familiar name: Princess Daazhraii Johnson, when I fast-read the next day’s event schedule on the stand. I said out loud with excitement to Matt, “Princess is HERE!” 

In 2010, I went to Alaska to work with Gwich’in women to create a short film: The Sacred Place Where Life Begins – Gwich’in Women Speak. At that time, Princess was the Executive Director of Gwich’in Steering Committee, a non-profit organization fighting against the proposals to drill for oil in the coastal plain of the  Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in what Gwich’in people call “Sacred Place Where Life Begins.” She was my accountability partner during the post-production phase of the filmmaking. The last time I saw Princess was in 2014 when I showed the film at the biannual Gwich’in people gathering in Old Crow, Canada. It has been a decade since I saw her. I connect with Adeline, her mother, more often than I see Princess. On the festival timetable, her name appeared many times – from a member of a panel discussion at short film screenings to a moderator of a panel discussion. I planned to be at all of her programs the next day, looking forward to reconnecting with her and being in her presence. 

On day 2, I immersed myself in outdoor film sessions. All the films I watched were either about Black, Indigenous, or People of Color (BIPOC) or transgender folks in the outdoors. The movies I watched include “Walking Two Worlds,” which tells the story of Quannah Chasing Horse, a young Gwich’in woman who grew up living a traditional subsistence lifestyle with her mother Jody and walks on the red carpet of Met Gala as a fashion supermodel. The film “Apayauq” shares the journey of Apayauq Reitan, an Iñupiaq dog musher who became the first out transgender woman to complete the Iditarod sled dog race that travels over 900 miles from Anchorage to Nome in Alaska.

The last film I watched was “Ashima.” I was particularly excited about this film since I heard of Ashima Shiraishi, a Japanese American who grew up in New York City and became one of the world’s best climbers at a young age. The film tells the story of Ashima becoming the first woman and youngest person to complete the V14 boulder problem at age 13. The film was shot 12 years ago and captured an intimate family dialogue at home and on the rock with her biggest fan and coach, her father. During the Q&A, I learned that Kenji Tsukamoto, the director, lived with Ashima’s family for four years, which allowed him to hold his camera and dissolve in the background of the everyday business of the Shiraishi family. It was more than a story of a climber. It was about the struggle, failure, life lessons beyond climbing, and resilience of an immigrant family. I never imagined a day watching an American outdoor film, seeing a Japanese American athlete as the main character, listening to my first language as a spoken language, and reading English subtitles to check if the nuance of the communication was properly translated into English. As I sat deep into my seat, I thought I was witnessing and breathing an incredible historic moment. Here and now.

All these films touched me deeply. These films teach us to listen to the pain, suffering, and joy that we experience, helping us wake up for calls to stay connected, and leading us toward the solution to our chronic problem of disconnection in the world. 

After the Q&A, I had a chance to talk to Ashima in Japanese. I was struck by her humbleness and ability to connect. In our brief conversation, she asked me if I lived in Denver. I told her about thru-hiking, my film, and why I was there. I told Kenji that it meant a lot to me to see a film that centers on an Asian American outdoor athlete created by an Asian American director and producer. I dreamt of this day 10 years ago when I was at film festivals, being the only Asian American filmmaker in the room one after another. Today was such a dream come true moment – BIPOC and transgender folks are telling their own stories, and these stories are shared as is at venues like Outside Festival – not as diversity panels or diversity film festivals. We are part of the main program. I thought wow, we came so far. Behind the scenes of such a big shift, I see people like Princess, tirelessly working with mainstream media to make sure that Indigenous films and TV shows include Indigenous people in the production, and Zeppelin Zeerip, the “Apayauq” film director who showed up as a cis-white straight male and role-modeled how to be a good listener to tell a story that belongs to someone who shares different identities and social locations. The universe gave me this injury to witness this moment of milestone. It meant a lot to me to see this change after more than two decades of persistent work in equity and inclusion. I was inspired to continue my part in change-making.

One of the questions that Princess asked a panel of powerful women of color storytellers struck me: “How are you disrupting the history through your own story and bringing the new narrative and why is it important for you to do that?”

I want to approach thru-hiking with a lens of connection to disrupt its dominant culture of individualism, competitiveness, and quantity over quality. I would love to bring a story of empathy, care, and diverse forms of adventures. During the film discussion, Princess encouraged us to imagine what it’s like to be a tree or salmon, and all other relatives on the Earth, and once we can imagine that, we can treat all our relations as we care for ourselves. Perhaps my injury happened so that I can add another layer to my story that tests my relationship with my body, others, and the Earth, and my realization of how I treat myself must reflect how I treat others and this planet. It all starts with me. No more numbing myself. Stay awake. Feel the pain. Stay connected.

The Last two weeks are a full of adventure outside of the CDT. Life is interesting. I had no idea where my injury was leading me. All I could say was that it led me to be here. Now.

It’s all meant to be.

Appreciation: Jen for the ride to Denver from Golden, Eric and Randy, Outside Magazine’s event project manager, for getting me a free ticket to the festival, Matt for accompanying me and taking care of me, the panelists and filmmakers for sharing your story and words of wisdom and inspiration and Outside Magazine for creating an event with a clear intent to be accessible and inclusive to all people, Anna for giving me a ride from the festival to Eric and Matt’s home, Eric for dropping me off at a train station in Denver

Best learning: Pain can lead to serendipitous opportunities and discoveries

Challenges: Coming back from Denver to Golden on public transportation was much more difficult and time-consuming than getting around Golden. It takes less than 30 minutes to drive between Denver and Golden. It took me more than two hours to go back to Golden on public transportation. The effort to transfer four times with an injured foot was a lot

Disappointment: I wish I had learned more about what Ashima is up to these days before I met her. In her Instagram post, “If climbing wasn’t free at Central Park,” says Ashima, “I wouldn’t be where I am.” Now, she and her friends are breaking down the financial and cultural barriers to climbing with @AllRiseOutdoors—an organization with a simple goal: make climbing more accessible. If I had known her project, I would have asked her more about her journey to the work of equity and inclusion in the outdoors! Oh, well. Next time!

Exciting moments: Meeting Ashima, Kenji, and Minji was a moment I would remember for the rest of my life. Her film is a milestone in the outdoor film industry from my perspective. Reconnecting with Princess, and having more time with my friends Eric and Matt, as well as Anna were special