Christine Reed
Bio
Author of the award-winning debut memoir, Alone in Wonderland. Christine writes about outdoor adventure, familial relationships, friendship, grief and trauma. She's passionate about hiking, backpacking, rock climbing, & storytelling.
Stories (16/0)
Every Moment, I am Reinvented
In every moment, I am reinvented. My eyes are closed. The waves are crashing only 150 feet away from me. Seven other beautiful souls are circled up on the sand. We are each meditating on our own personal mantras. Our teacher, Carrie, has just guided us through a perfect weekend of yoga overlooking the ocean, nourishing gourmet vegan meals, breathwork, hiking, and my first ever surf lesson. We’re closing out the weekend with silent meditation on our personal mantras.
By Christine Reed6 months ago in Wander
2021 - A Year of Adventure Books
I've been a voracious reader since childhood, but haven't really tracked my reading as an adult. I started using Goodreads when I published my first book in January last year, and thought it would be fun to participate in the annual reading challenge. So I set a goal to read 50 books in 2021. I'm fairly certain I didn't quite reach that goal, but it's hard to say for sure, as my tracking left a lot to be desired.
By Christine Reedabout a year ago in Viva
Space to Think My Own Thoughts
From August 10 to September 19, I hiked the Colorado Trail. I walked somewhere in the neighborhood of 440 miles in 41 days with a few days rest in the middle. I knew when I set out to hike that I would be writing about this journey afterwards, so I made notes along the way of the things I saw, the conversations I had, the way I felt.
By Christine Reedabout a year ago in Wander
Why Write?
As a writer, you spend hours on perfecting blog posts and articles. You spend months writing the first draft of a book only to spend another year or two editing and editing and editing. And once you put your words out into the world you must face down the inevitable critique. There are going to be people who don’t like, don't approve of, don't understand what you say. There are going to be people who take it a step farther and don't like YOU. Don't approve of YOU. Don't understand YOU. And after the first scathing comment on your blog or review on goodreads, you might ask yourself, why am I even doing this?
By Christine Reed2 years ago in Motivation
A Woman and Her Van
In the forests of the Rocky Mountains, long days of summer descended into cooler nights and darker evenings. Sunset crept forward on the clock, and I found myself sleeping longer hours. The desert heat became more and more appealing as September passed into October. Part of me longed to go, the other part seemed incapable of moving on. I wanted to recapture that day in the sun—to prove that Colorado had been the escape I’d been seeking, not Landon.
By Christine Reed2 years ago in Fiction
A Woman and Her Man
The Grand Canyon didn’t hold me. It chewed me up and spit me out. I felt different after—not just physically. Something had shifted within me. I woke early the next morning and stood again at the precipice. The sun rose over the canyon in stages, illuminating each layer of rock in turn. Purple and burgundy faded into orange and umber.
By Christine Reed2 years ago in Fiction
A Woman and Her Man... I mean Van.
I dreamed of Landon’s shadow standing forever in the night. I tried to go to him, but he was always just out of reach. The stars gleamed overhead, and the trees seemed to be moving—closing in around us and then expanding, dragging me with them to the farthest reaches of the clearing.
By Christine Reed2 years ago in Fiction
A Woman and her Van... I mean Man...
It’s a distinct possibility that I’d completely lost my mind. Juniper’s headlights illuminated the dirt road as it unfurled beneath the back bumper of Landon’s 90’s era Dodge van. A thousand times I wondered if I’d be murdered, if I should just turn around and hightail it out of there, if I’d ever find my way home again.
By Christine Reed2 years ago in Fiction
A Woman and her Man ... I mean Van
The farmer walked out to meet me as I trundled down the long dirt driveway, kicking up dust. The farm was like something out of a movie, a big red barn behind a white clapboard house. Horses and cows roaming the pasture, and a dog barking in the distance. Fields of grain shone gold in the late day sun. Hydrangea and marigolds spilled out of the flowerbeds out front.
By Christine Reed2 years ago in Fiction
