Sara Aranda has a B.A. in Creative Writing and is a freelance writer and avid trail runner, climber, and gear tester. She has written for Alpinist Magazine, The Climbing Zine, Boulder Weekly, and others. Sara is currently based out of Colorado.
I get my shit together, even take a real shit by the trees, snap a few pictures of the marbled white and green grass before dusting off my Jeep for the cruise into town. Even find a note from Sonya tucked into the door handle. … More My 5Point Journey, Part 2: Twilight Zone Semantics and Backdoor Tequila
The morning was brisk but the hoodie was all I needed for the trek to the Plotinus wall from Upper Canyon, which entails a steep descent, a few river crossings, and mild scrambling. It was one of those days where the weather was either sunny or on the brink of rain. Thankfully, I didn’t have to don and doff the hoodie as it regulated my core temperature very well; and even when I started to sweat on the hike down or while climbing, it breathed well enough to not get sticky or overbearing. … More Gear Review: Mountain Standard Lightweight Hoodie
I want to start this conversation with a dare. Go watch a short adventure film about something sexy, like skiing big lines or biking in the sunset. Peruse the average outdoor magazine – pay attention to the photos of the sponsored athletes and gear models. … More Dither Me This #3: Dear Outdoor Media
by Sara Aranda 4.19.17 I flip on the high beams, hunch over the steering wheel glass-eyed and squinting to read the land of yet another unknown place. Pavement ends and my Jeep bounces deeper into the hills of Prince Creek Road. Residents in town had described dirt and cattle gates, then voilà, campsites on either … More My 5Point Journey, Part 1: Rising Bird of Night
Dark Portraits of Me by Sara Aranda 1. Trailer court trailers by the river Leonard or Leonardo drunkenly embodied sound spoken-word sounds, rhymed love for rocks and the river— how the rocks fall boom boom boom each an ever-deepening drum beat watch out for the water babies he said how they like to have fun. … More Dark Portraits of Me
It’s been windy here lately. Last weekend, while climbing on the Bastille in Eldorado Canyon, dirty particles beat into my eyes with such fervor and consistency that I couldn’t keep them open. The calls from my partner below were washed warbles, even though I was only 20 feet off the ground. I was cold. Unless I locked off and pressed my stomach flat against the wall, the invisible force would pry me off, howling high across the rocky outcrops and flooding my ears. … More Dither Me This #2: Wind
I feel a certain kinship to bats. Perhaps it’s because I was bitten by one in Ecuador and since then I have slowly been transforming into one of them. Perhaps it’s because I might describe my learning style as “echolocation,” or a clumsy mimicry thereof. … More Dither Me This #1: Echolocation
From underprivileged communities lost to the vastness of the Inland Empire in Southern California, the first post in this series will feature 3 women who have found climbing and the great outdoors in different and inspiring ways, despite defined gender roles and financial hardship. … More Falling for Nature: Stories of Latinas
By Sara Aranda This piece takes a look at mental health issues that often coincide with an extended injury. I write from my own (current) experience, and that is it. But the more I talk about these things, the more I learn how common they are; yet how silent and detrimental the rabbit hole can … More Injury Diary: Cyclical Mourning
Adventure Haikus By Sara Aranda ~~~ Tree bark, buried soil the snow catches the pine boughs wind-blown like sand dunes. ~~~ Elk track through the trees gentle dimples for white flesh, my eyes are too late. ~~~ Abandon your boots let wet laces paint the floor let the floor melt too. ~~~ Ice on the … More Adventure Haikus
12.31.16 Vegas. Everyone has their own agenda. But we don’t climb because of wet rock and it continues to drizzle lightly throughout the day. Clouds saunter across the buttresses and ridgelines—desaturation, more or less, like ships penciled by a thick fog, mooring cautiously. I feel like I’m the verge of a head cold. Why does … More Red Rock and Life Lessons
The following is an account of a series of dreams, strange in their nature, and thus only that. However, dreams seem to offer insight and sometimes an uncanny meditation on life and death. In 2009, I lost my mother to genetic breast cancer, after 7 years of fighting. I’ve had many, rather mundane, dreams with … More Mother of My Dreams
Words and photos by Sara Aranda Creeksgiving, 11.24.2016 Hungry, fervent hyenas, eyeing the foil and fire, giggling with the steam and prospect of turkey. Side dishes begin to pop up around the table: sweet potato, mac and cheese, sausage vegetable medley, cornbread stuffing infused with mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, broccoli cheese, pumpkin … More Giving and the Pursuance of (Unknown) Space
By Sara Aranda Wind. Desert towers. Pink dawn. Red dirt. Outhouse shitter and the smell that comes with it. Daily ritual in down booties. Sling a rope across the entrance so everyone knows you’re taking a shit. I’m one of those “hover-ers” and when it’s done you get out of there as fast as you … More Indian Creek: Find Me in the Darkness
10.19.2016 Todd starts talking about the use of pesticides on fruit as he drives us to Limón. “Don’t ever buy non-organic bananas,” he warns. “I’ve seen them do some crazy things. They’ll even drill holes in the stalks and inject poison. It’s bad. And they claim it doesn’t get into the fruit,” he scoffs, “Never … More Costa Rica, El Fin: Young and Wide Open
10.9.2016 The undulate sea lifts us up and down. Soft, salty belly. We are flecks of flesh roving the coral reef. Our goggles dig in beneath our noses and my jaw wears from biting the snorkel mouthpiece. This world is so bizarre. Large mazes of brains, bulbous and alien in their nature, and striking fans, … More Costa Rica, Part 4: The Undulate and the Imaginary
The Aura of a Self-Willed Land by Sara Aranda “Mountains have many moods.” – Jack Turner I At night the Milky Way dusts the sky falls to powder the Earth by day snow cluttered labyrinths between the trees and ice-laced river. Shadows paint numb strands of bark as scattered as old elk tracks now gentle … More The Aura of a Self-Willed Land
10.5 – 10.12 “Ants control the Universe,” Patrick quipped. We had been dropped off at Cahuita National Park, a stretch of jungle along a small peninsula, which has a trail all the way to the point. Leaf-cutter ants were marching along, some with bits of leaves and some with flower petals. Their highways, wide and … More Costa Rica, Part 3: Spiders & Deep Water
10.2.2016 Johnny drives us the 3.5 hours to Cahuita. San Jose is quiet at 6 in the morning, but joggers and cyclists are brightly making their way along the narrow streets. When the city ends the true nature of this land is loud and green, thick and reaching into the sky for a hundred feet … More Costa Rica, Part 2: (Cahuita) I Am Not Embarrassed
Words and photos by Sara Aranda 10.2016. Preface There’s a weird intimacy with letting the wind blow hair into my face. Late sunlight. Gold. Brown hair. The only gestures for miles are happening right here, cheeks and lips and hair, then fingers to brush away the tingling sensations of touch. Or so it seems. The … More Costa Rica, Part 1: San Jose
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