The COMO Mojo: Pinnacle of Chaos

I’ve been told many times that I “have an old soul,” so it feels fitting to say I’m lucky I grew up just before technology really took off and that I spent my childhood outdoors.  

The first iPhone came out when I was six, but most adults I knew still carried trusty flip phones or the ultra-chic sliding keyboard models for a few more years. Instagram didn’t exist until I was in third grade, and even then, it didn’t gain real traction until sixth. Most of my friends and I had a shared family computer, which meant our portal to the digital world was stationary — usually reserved for special occasions.  

Don’t get me wrong — iPods and tablets were on the rise during my middle school years. (We all remember the Angry Birds era.) But many of us Gen Z kids still clung to the call of mourning doves, the scent of leaf burns and barbecues, running through sprinklers, and, weirdly enough, the mosquito bites that reminded us of happy summer evenings.  

The world has changed a lot since then. Technology has taken over our attention, replacing a substantial amount of intimate human interaction and keeping us glued to our screens. The entire world is now at our fingertips, and so often, our feet stay firmly planted indoors.  

Still, I feel deeply connected to the outdoors. While it might sound cliché, some things really do feel better when you touch the grass. And sometimes, life’s chaos is best reflected in the beauty (and unpredictability) of nature.  

I’ll never forget hiking The Pinnacles for the first time in late 2020 with my friend Ashley. I’d hiked before, but since Ashley is basically an outdoor pro, I let her lead the way. And look — Missouri might be the butt of jokes, but it really does have some breathtaking spots. With every bit of elevation, I kept pausing just to soak it all in.  

Then came the chaos.  

It started when I, distracted by the beautiful scenery below, ran into a low-hanging branch and cut my forehead. It wasn’t anything serious, but let’s just say (to keep the content safe for my squeamish peeps) it left a good mark.  

Later, I found a rocky vantage point to sit and admire the landscape. When I stood up, I ripped a hole in my favorite athletic pants. Annoying, but manageable. Until it got worse.  

Toward the end of our ascent, I took my phone out to snap a photo. When I went to slide it back into my pocket, the flimsiness of the fabric gave out, and I watched as my phone tumbled down the cliff.  

So … maybe I wasn’t quite as “low screentime” and “nature-over-technology” as I’d thought because I immediately panicked. We hiked down, and I crawled up an incline on all fours, flipping over leaves and sticks in a frantic search. After some time, I remembered that, in a rare move, I’d turned my phone’s ringer on earlier that day (I was expecting a text), and thankfully, Ashley was able to call it. I was beyond relieved to find my phone. And even more relieved that our hike was over for the day.  

Despite the chaos of that first Pinnacles trip, it became a must-visit when my best friend from Florida, Larissa, came to town in 2023. We also explored Devil’s Icebox — my first time there — and it lived up to the hype.  

Nature might’ve humbled me that day in 2020, but now it’s one of my favorite stories to share. I still love the outdoors, and that experience taught me two lifelong lessons:  

Choose better pants.  

And this one — which I’m sure my mom will be thrilled about —keep your ringer on.