Date: 2006-06-06
From: Williamstown, Mass

To: the journey home
Miles today: 0.0

6-6-6Williamstown, Massachusetts to Hoboken, New Jersey183 milesI've gone to sleep as a hiker, and woken up as a man with a backpack trying to get home.There were 2 buses going to NYC today...one at 9 am, and one at 4 pm.The decision wasn't too difficult. I'm not even certain that i miss home in the least, and given the dubious situation that i will be returning to, a part of me wanted to see how much room i had remaining on my credit cards, and continue this trail all the way to its terminus in Maine.but i don't see any sense in putting off the inevitable.having chosen the 4 o'clock bus, i enjoyed my day in town...which means a lot of coffee, lunch at a pizzeria, a couple hours at the library catching up on the world. I have managed to organize a few friends for little get together at Willie McBride's on Thursday.people...friends...that will be strange...i've grown very comfortable with solitude and the occasional stranger.i tried to think of stories to share, and not much really stands out. sadly, this doesn't truly convey my whole experience....perhaps i've just lost my ability to tell a story.how do you make bug bites, dehydration, and loneliness exciting...or even vaguely interesting?The bus ride home was entertaining and thought-provoking. When you think of long distance bus travel, i think it's important that you realize exactly who uses a bus for long distance travel...it's people who can't afford plane tickets... or people who can't afford cars. It is a unique slice of humanity.the most interesting character on this bus, by far, was a young angry black man (you know, the horrible stereotype that MTV likes to perpetuate on the "Real World", by casting someone in that role every season). He obviously had never ridden a bus before. Every time we pulled into another town...to another bus stop, this guy would stand up, looking as though he was about to explode. Eventually, he did turn around and furiously inquire to a few of us in the back of the bus..."what the hell is this guy doing?! Why doesn't he just get on the highway and drive?!!"After a silence, (apparently) i was the only one who misunderstood his rhetoric as general quest to attain knowledge...or perhaps i was the only one who wasn't afraid that he was carrying a concealed weapon.I responded to him with the calm of a man who has been hiking for 4 weeks, (and who actually feels like we are making outstanding time),"I don't think that the bus company would make a great amount of money if they just ran direct routes, non-stop from Williamstown to New York. I think they need to stop in a lot of towns from here to there to pick up more passengers. It's just kinda how buses operate.""Well this is stupid," he responded, "it's going to be midnight by the time we get to New York!"I was going to point out that it would be 8:45, and that if he would've looked at the bus schedule, beyond the little box that showed the time that the bus arrived at his stop, he would've not only known this, but would've also known that this was not a non-stop drive.but by now, i had realized that he was not seeking genuine knowledge, and decided to remain quiet with everyone else, and just hope that he didn't have any concealed weapons on him.The driver, to his credit, managed to ignore the continual outbursts and what eventually built up into attacks on his masculinity. He may have been truly oblivious. He had the look of a man had had more than a few accidents involving live wires, which not only would account for his particular hairstyle, but would've probably damaged a few nerve receptors.After a few hours of this, the guy finally sat down, relaxed, let go of his dissentious demons, and succumbed to the realities of bus travel. We made it to NYC in one piece.NYC...is there a lonelier place in the world? 8 million people and no one knows their neighbor...everyone is afraid to look at another person in the eyes...this is why we're all such intellectual elitists out here. we don't bother taking the time to small talk and gossip about each other and our neighbors...on the train we all jam books in front of our faces so that no one can touch our spirit.On the trail, I'd meet 1 or 2 people all day, but we would connect for however brief that moment was. Now here i was surrounded by people and the disconnect was palpable and overwhelming."I want the trail. I want the trail." i heard repeating through my brain like a mantra as i boarded the train to Hoboken.God damn! This is not how i imagined this journey ending. In the end there is supposed to be a rush of warmth, the joy of achieving a goal, and the embrace of the woman you love, saying, "don't ever leave me again".The walk home across the flat streets of Hoboken was more cumbrous than any mountain....and when I made it to our apartment, i wasn't ready.I sat down across the street at the Church Towers apartment complex. I wasn't ready for my hike to end. I wasn't ready for my relationship to end. Once i turn that door handle, my life will never be what it has become...nor will it ever be what it was....Vermont wasn't just a symbol for my achievement...it was a symbol for going home. And it becomes clear why I could not emote when i reached the border...my head was about to explode. home, in any sense that i perceived it...a huge "welcome home" meal, a hug, and a kiss (and I will let you imagine all else)...did not exist anymore. That border became a piece of land no different than any other piece of land that i had walked over since early May.I now sit here on a cement slab, unable to move forward. Looking up at what light radiates from my apartment. my will, the victor...and the coward.brave enough to venture out into the mountains alone as an ignorant but well-read fool. able to overcome the gaps in my knowledge.but i am not ready for this...