Date: 2014-04-03
To: none
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: overcast clouds

Heavy MattersAs much reading as I did about this trail I was unprepared for the level of monotony that forces me to mentally engage on a different level. I am not trying to down play the beauty and glory of the world around me. We live on an exceptionally beautiful planet. However, when you've been at it for 10 miles and you're facing another 4, 6, 8 or even 10 there is a point where you are no longer quite as enamored with the beauties of nature. Your thoughts naturally turn inward. And without the distraction of company (I usually hike alone) or background noise (radio, iPod, TV, cellphone) there is nothing left but to inventory your pack (a daily task) or allow your brain to wander as it will, no matter the direction. What begins as a trickle in your first few days becomes an overwhelming deluge after about a week. And yet, it is not unwelcome. It is a cathartic process. Anger at an old boss or boyfriend works wonders for getting me up a hill and guilt about failing geometry in 9th grade has slowed me down when my legs have needed a rest. I have thought about every person I know and questioned my every life decision... As well as my decision to hike this stupid/fabulous trail. It's not always a completely pleasant process, but the mental hoops your mind ends up jumping through certainly help to work out some kinks in logic and corseted emotions. The pack inventory, however, does take a fair bit of time and mental power to complete every day. Unlike the swirling of memories and thoughts of, well, whatever else pops into my mind, the Inventory is more like a nagging mosquito bite, constantly asking to be scratched. It is a never ending task try to lighten my load without downgrading in comfort. At first it's easy: I have four sets of socks and sock liners, but I only seem to be using three. I have a bowl I don't use. I don't need a second bottle of hand sanitizer. I'll just buy moe when the first runs out... And so it goes. But then things start getting interesting. You start noticing your food and water intake a bit more and become more adept at planning how much you need to consume and when. Instead of filing your water bladder to the max in the morning you start filtering only enough of get you to the first spring. And you stop worrying that you will have enough food. You make whatever you have last until your next resupply because you don't want to carry anything extra.After that you start REALLY looking at your pack. There are usually do-dads all over it to hang things on, etc. Do I really need an extra scrap of fabric to separate my sleeping bag from the rest of the internal compartment or an extra buckle for a camera case that I don't own? At first I felt sacrilegious when I took my knife to my pack, but now it feels refreshing. "Ah, trimmed fat!" The reality is that hikers become a bit anorexic about what they have to carry. Ounces look like pounds and ultralight packs and supplies become mouthwateringly compelling. My friend Sloth began his trek with over 50 lbs in his pack. I'll admit... The man's a total beast and still managed to rock out 20+ mile days with that behemoth on his back. But even so, the proud grin on his face when he switched out his 5ish lb whisperlite stove for a pocket rocket (which weighs 1 1/2 pounds, fuel included) was a sight to behold. We carry our livelihoods on our backs. That takes a moment to truly comprehend and rightly too, a moment to perfect. But perhaps it is a habit that can extends past a backpack. What so we really need to survive? To be comfortable? To be necessarily comfortable? Where can or should we draw the line between comfort and necessity? Ah... And now I'm back to that uncomfortable swirl of thoughts and curiosities that pass about my brain as I stroll my way along the mountains of this amazing country.