Date: 2004-11-22
To: internal turmoil
Miles today: 0.0

My mind¢s been dwelling on the AT w/ unhealthy frequency of late. Even more, I believe, than I did last winter, when I¢d actually committed to uprooting my life to a simpler existence of tromping through the woods. Maybe that¢s the hang-up -- decision made, I was (relatively) angst-free. I just had to worry about how to light my darn stove, and how to use the friggin¢ trekking poles w/o tripping over them, and was 20oz of fuel enough? And how did the freakin' suspension system work on my pack anyway? And was I going to be able to talk Mom out of making me tote my cellphone? And was Dad really going to insist on the pepper spray for bear protection? Oh my god, was I going to become the first hiker in, forever, to be killed by a bear on the AT? Would my mauled and mangled body be found, tut-tutted over, and cited as a warning to those who followed -- carry your MACE? Would I acquire some ghastly gastro-intestinal ailment, be hospitalized for a week while horrible microorganisms wreaked havoc on my innards? And this despite my dutiful filtering of water? Would mice really nibble on my toes in the middle of the night? Would I awake one morning to find my food bag ravaged by a rapacious (and voraciously hungry) raccoon? Would I lose fingers (or even just a toe or two) to frostbite and/or hypothermia? Were my boots really waterproof? Would my feet blister and bleed and my toenails turn various colors of the rainbow before, ultimately, falling off entirely? Would I be able to hear the rattlesnake rattle before I stepped on him? Would I be able to set up my tent, by myself, w/ 50mph gusts of wind buffeting me on an exposed rocky outcrop? Would I, stumbling off the trail to answer nature¢s call, not be able to stumble my way back and wander aimlessly for days before someone finally noticed I was missing? Would I fall and break my leg, 20 miles from the nearest road? Would I survive, out there, on my own? Would I be alone, or would I meet people, people who would become lifelong friends, family? And, the questions that plagued me the night before I left -- how on earth did my pack get to be so friggin' heavy? Was I honestly going to be able to hoist it on my back every morning, let alone stumble along more than a few steps before succumbing to the laws of gravity and landing flat on my rear? And finally -- What the hell was I getting myself into? Now, older and wiser, eyes having been opened through immersion (When in doubt of the temperature, don¢t dip a tentative toe in the water; dive in headlong. The shock to your system¢ll do you good. If it doesn¢t kill ya first. ), I don¢t have to ask those questions. I already know the answers. (¢Course, that won¢t stop me from asking ¢em again¢¦) So, my mind can focus instead on more weighty (but not necessarily more important) issues like -- Do I really want to do it again? Put my body through the physical abuse? Subject myself to the same mental torment? And the answer, lately, seems more and more to be a resounding, reverberating YES! Not necessarily to the physical suffering and psychological angst. But to the joys, the happiness, the independence, the absolute, unmitigated FREEDOM. The days of soul-searching. The hours of conversation around campfires. The cadre of companions. The reduction of life to its simplicities. The sense of peace that swells w/in me, arising to the perfect sunrise, witnessing a surreal sunset, watching the birth of spring not as a silent spectator on the sidelines but from w/in the circle of nature itself. Drawing in that first, crisp breath of air in the morning, that sears your lungs w/ its very coldness. That tells you that you¢re alive. You¢re more alive, awake, aware than you¢ve ever been in your life, heightened senses, attuned to the world surrounding you, embracing you to nature¢s breast. That¢s what I dream of. The AT is calling me home.