Date: 2005-03-12
To: the Hiker Hostel
Miles today: 0.0

11:15am 3.12.05In a typical display of Mom's incontrovertible need to be chronically early, I find myself sitting at Gate D80 of the Pittsburgh International airport w/ eons to spare. And so begins to process of sitting, in a whole day devoted to that end. It's ironic, traveling such distances, doing nothing but planting yourself firmly on your derriere. But, having this time by myself, to settle down, screw my head on after mimicking the proverbial headless chicken this morning, and after a (largely) sleepless night. But, sitting here at the gate, the reality of it all is inescapable, as I stare through the window-paned walls, out across the acres of pavement and runways. The dazzling sunrise of reality dawned for Mom in the car en route to the airport, as the windshield wipers persistently and rhythmically erased the presence of the wet, sodden snow, which sullenly and petulantly, and just as persistently, continued to fall. I was hypothesizing about which other hikers I would encounter at the Atlanta airport, when suddenly, Mom gave a little shake, as if awaking from a dream, and blurted out incredulously, "You're going to be hiking tomorrow!?" Well, yeppers, that's the plan. She added, her voice as petulant and sullen as the snow, "I guess this means I'll have to start following the weather again." Now, considering that the weather ranks only the slightest of notches above driving directions and maps as a topic of conversation for Mom, this concession serves as an illustration of her deep and unabiding concern for my welfare. Dad, on the other hand, could happily whittle away hours pouring over a map, debating the merits of cycling routes. Last night, he was involved in a 3-way conversation, concerning the location of the 'Old Henderson House' (where, purportedly, there were some heated games of spin the bottle, back in the day). The conversation focused on the myriad of ways to arrive at this historic house, whether you make a left or a right at a particular T-intersection. I remained a silent bystander. Mom sought an escape. And then later, after everyone had departed, and the three of us sat (well, I more or less sprawled in exhaustion, Dad began to replay that conversation: "Do you remember where you used to take the kids for riding lessons?" (W/ Mom, you can't use roads; you have to phrase everything in landmarks." Mom and I quickly joined forces, and shushed him.Waiting to board my plane, I stand at the cusp of this journey. And I wonder -- is this the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end? And what invisible, intangible line demarcates the two? Or is there no delineation, just a blurred boundary? Everything today is strangely and strikingly similar, yet distinctly dissimilar. As if I'm acting out a familiar scene, one I've witnessed a hundred times, but always as an observer. (Considering the number of times I've mentally daydreamed this day, not a huge surprise.) But, now that I'm on the stage, all the carefully rehearsed and memorized lines are being delivered, but w/ minor alterations. Nothing significant -- a word omitted here, another added there, a slight jumbling of word order. Nothing major, but enough to throw me off balance, to make me realize that this isn't a script. It's really happenin'. My plane really is taxiing down the runway at this very second. It feels as if I'm experiencing deja vu in reverse, where I can distinctly recall what happened previously, what's supposed to happen next. It's what's really gonna come next that remains an enigmatic black hole.1:04pm Up, up, and away. Liftoff. I might have just said that the boundaries b/t beginnings and endings were ill-defined, but that final 'oompf' of the plane, as it shoves off the tarmac, relinquishing contact w/ terra firma, that embodies a visceral reaction, creates a pretty sharply defined boundary. Maybe I just haven't become inured to air travel, but I suspect that landfall will provoke a similar mental response, mirroring the physical reconnection w/ the earth.It's strange, crusing along at 30,000 feet, seeing baby blue skies on the horizon, when I can still see the snow-laden stormclouds beneath me, an endless ocean of rippling white, a resilient wall shielding my eyes from the tempestuous skies underneath.10:45pm Back in the welcoming, pristine, wood-cabin embrace of the Hiker Hostel. Coming up the porch steps, through the front door, I felt I was coming Home. And, indeed, I have. So much has happened in the past ten hours. So many new names and faces, future members of my trail family. Where to begin. How to even start to assimilate the events of today. Coming off the plane, I wended my way toward the baggage claim area, keeping an eye open for Cuppa Joe. I spotted him before he glimpsed me, a lone hiker standing guard over his pack. A grin suffused my face, and I don't think it's departed yet. We collected my pack, before heading over to the rendezvous point -- Josh and Leigh were expecting 7 incoming hikers for tonight. Well, it turns out there are 19 of us, here at the Hiker Hostel -- the airport crew -- me, Cuppa Joe, Just Plain Jane, Chuck, Turtle, and Mike -- Red Hat (who I met last year as Old Kathy), Nimblefoot, I Can, John and Carlene, 5 section hikers, and 3 others who I haven't yet seen. Already seems a wonderful bunch, and I have still to actually set foot on the trail. Reminiscent of last year, the age distribution (at least of this group) tends toward the 'retirement' end of the spectrum, rather than the 'just graduated from college'. Today was longer than I expected -- flight delays stalled our departure from Atlanta, and we were mired in traffic reminiscent of rush hour on the Beltway. But today, nothing can dampen my spirits. Nothing can quell may passion. There's just such a kinetic energy flowing through me, through my very bones, that could I harness it, it could fuel the world. Tomorrow will return me to familiar terrain, but though my feet may recognize the shadowy footprints they imprinted last spring, each step will be a new experience, will form a new memory, b/c I will be seeing through new eyes, a new perspective, a new understanding. Tomorrow dawns a day replete w/ limitless, endless possibilities. And I will rise to meet it.