To all the Gutsy Girls who were cautioned that they shouldn’t, wouldn’t, or couldn’t . . . and they did. Thank you. WARNING: Many of the situations that the author encounters in this book have inherent dangers and can lead to serious or even fatal injuries. One particular undertaking—climbing the Golden Gate Bridge—is also illegal and should not be attempted. Readers should not venture into any of these situations without professional instruction, suitable training, and proper supervision. Neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for any injuries incurred by the reader. CHAPTER 1 Dream Big, Make It Real CHAPTER 2 Even If People Laugh (Especially If People Laugh) CHAPTER 3 Just Put One Foot in Front of the Other CHAPTER 4 Aim High! But, Sometimes, Not Too High CHAPTER 5 What Goes Up, Might Come Down CHAPTER 6 It’s Pitch Dark, but You Can Still Find Your Way CHAPTER 7 Whoops! Thin Ice! CHAPTER 8 It’s Not What You Say, It’s What You Do CHAPTER 9 Plan Well, Then Expect the Unexpected CHAPTER 10 Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire, and Sometimes Kittens Epilogue Acknowledgments SOME RELEVANT DEFINITIONS Gutsy 1. Having a great deal of nerve or courage 2. Having lots of intestines and stuff Derring-do Brave acts; behavior that requires courage; daring action (from the Middle English “dorring don,” which means “daring to do,” first used in 1579. Often used with words like swashbuckling, kickass, WOW!, and, of course, gutsy.) Adventure 1. (NOUN) An exciting or remarkable experience 2. (VERB) To proceed despite risk. “She decided to adventure into the wilderness, because she had loads of backpacking experience, bear-proof food cans, chocolate, a really good map, an even better head on her shoulders, an emergency kit, an A-on her school report on edible plants, and, of course, a gutsy disposition.” A SHORT NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR Dear Gutsy Girl, I HAVE BEEN politely asked by my lawyers and my insurance company to remind you that I have had many adventures in my life that were perfectly planned, well executed, and hazard free. But let’s face it, uneventful trips are boring. None of those adventures is in this book. Instead, I have willfully chosen to write about the few that ended in mishap and mayhem—thus frightening your parents, alerting your local hospital, and gluing you to these pages—because it is in those moments that I learned the most essential lessons: how to be brave, how to persevere, how to stay focused, how to laugh at myself, and more. I am not suggesting you get yourself into the many pickles that I describe here. But the lessons are a gift from me to you. From them I hope you learn not how to avoid every hairball situation, but how to navigate your way through them, because challenging yourself is essential to a gutsy girl’s life of exhilaration, self-confidence, and fun. Enough talk! Begin the book! And don’t forget to read the warning at the beginning very carefully. After that, enjoy the ensuing pages. Then swan dive with exuberance into adventures of your own. Caroline Paul (The Author) CHAPTER 1 DREAM BIG, MAKE IT REAL When I was thirteen, I read about a strange boat race. The boats were elaborate affairs—paddlewheels, schooners, rowboats—with one thing in common. They were kept afloat by milk cartons. I wasn’t a sailor. I wasn’t a milk carton fanatic. But for some reason I loved this idea. I wanted to build a milk carton boat. Specifically a milk carton pirate ship. I envisioned a three-masted vessel, with a plank off to one side (of course) and a huge curved prow that ended in an eagle head. So I set about collecting milk cartons. I collected from my school cafeteria. I collected from my friends. I collected from my family. I soon became familiar with the look on their faces when I explained I was building a milk carton pirate ship. It was actually a combination of looks, all rolled into one. Hahaha, what a crazy idea, the expression said. And, Good luck, kid, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And, Well, at least I’m getting rid of my milk cartons. Then at the very end of this facial conga dance, I always caught something else. Actually, that sounds like FUN. I wish I could do that, the final look exclaimed. You can do it, I should have said back. But it’s hard to contradict the large cafeteria cook who smells of sliced ham and oatmeal. I didn’t say anything. But I understood the feeling. I had been a shy and fearful kid. Many things had scared me. Bigger kids. Second grade. The elderly woman across the street. Being called on in class. The book Where the Wild Things Are. Woods at dusk. The way the bones in my hand crisscrossed. Being scared was a terrible feeling, like sinking in quicksand. My stomach would drop, my feet would feel heavy, my head would prickle. Fear was an all-body experience. For a shy kid like me it was overwhelming. Now I wanted to build a milk carton pirate ship and sail it along a body of water. Did I mention that I didn’t know how to sail? And I use the term “sail” loosely. I really mean “get pulled by the current to my destination.” I didn’t even know how to do that. Laura Dekker was a month shy of fifteen when she set sail in 2010 on Guppy, a boat she and her father remodeled together. Her goal? To become the youngest to circumnavigate the globe alone. Naysayers, and even the Dutch courts, tried to intervene, claiming that she was too young. She sailed anyway, stopping off at islands and ports, expertly navigating storms and wild seas. A year and a half later, she had successfully circumnavigated the world. And you know what? She kept sailing. Today she lives aboard Guppy, her adventures continuing. “Adventure is worthwhile in itself.” —Amelia Earhart, pilot What had happened to the shy and fearful kid? She was still there. But somewhere along the way I had decided that she wasn’t having a lot of fun. I wanted a life of Grand Adventure, the kind I had read about in books. So I started to kindly tell the shy and fearful girl to step back, and make way for the adventurous girl that was also there. The girl who really wanted to captain a milk carton pirate ship. Where does a boat-builder keep her materials? Under her bed, of course. Within a month I had a bunch of milk cartons. Within two months I had more. Within three months a strange smell took hold. It hadn’t occurred to me that I had to rinse anything out! Within four months I was the proud owner of 167 (now clean) milk cartons. I was ready. I taped the tops of all the milk cartons closed. I bound them in groups of three