Yep. They call me Moonshine. And it wasn’t because I carried booze on trail (sure did appreciate whiskey in my hot chocolate at night though) or because I liked to hike in the moonlight (although Tom and I did night hike heaps on that first thru). No, it wasn’t anything to do with the moon above us or my bright personality- it had everything to do with my butt. All about the booty, the full moon, baby.
If you’re a child of the 80’s like me, you may remember being a kid stuffed into the back of your parents’ boat-like conversion van on long road trips doing whatever you could to keep yourself and your siblings entertained without pissing off your folks with too many questions or too much fighting. There sure weren’t tablets or phones to pass the time, so we had to get creative. You may also remember shoving your bare butt up against the big back window as cars going 65 on the highway wizzed by and then collapsing into a heap of kid limbs and laughing hysterically. No? Yes? Well. That was what my brothers and I did for fun. Mooning. It carried on into our teenage years and then petered out. But then, one day after turning 30, it occurred to me what a travesty that was and I started mooning everyone I knew. Why? Because: funny. I don’t know why butts are funny, I don’t make the rules, but, they are.
The mooning made it’s way out to trail. All of the pretty vistas seemed to be asking for a booty, so I obliged. And the tired little hikers, well, they needed something to surprise and entertain them every once and a while, too. Not only was my booty out to entertain, I was caught with my pants down at least once a day because I refused to hide behind a bush to pee. The guys didn’t have to and I sure as hell didn’t want to step on a snake, so, sorry-not-sorry there was my butt.
I was called Moonshine at mile 20 of the PCT by another hiker after I welcomed her into camp with my pants down and butt checks clapping. But I didn’t take the name. It felt too soon, and perhaps to orchestrated? I thought, maybe my name should come from something that is specific to me just here on the PCT, not something I have been bringing back from childhood the past couple of years.
Then, there it was again at Ziggy and the Bear’s, after mooning a crew of drunk hikers in the desert at the base of San Jacinto, I was being called Moonshine. I grinned and accepted. It fit. It’s me. Moonshine!
And ya’ll, I encourage you to take those butt vistas to the next level. You can have a pretty picture of a mountain to remember your time in the woods OR you can have a pretty picture of a mountain AND a butt. Now, you tell me which one will bring a bigger smile to your face when you’re old old old and looking back on your life? Probably the butt!
So with that, I, Moonshine, say cheers to getting weird in nature! Butts out, babes.
