Date: 2004-03-12
To: The Journey Begins...
Miles today: 0.0

9.25.0411:45pmNote: I¢m posting this journal ¢after-the-fact¢ of my hike. I dutifully tried to write every day during my hike, and what you see is the unedited, unexpurgated version (aside from a few slight edits for language content). Nothing¢s been changed, colored, sugar-coated. Just the honest truth. I didn¢t intend to publicize this journal; it was always meant to be a personal record of my hike, to preserve my emotions and joys and sorrows and memories for myself, so I could always have a link to reach back to this life-altering journey. But, realizing the value of the journals I read, in my preparations to set out on my venture into the unknown, I want to return the favor to those coming after. (Or at least make at attempt to.) So, I hope this journal can help provide some wisdom, insight, advice, edification or just reading entertainment for any and all contemplating (or acquainted with someone contemplating) a hike (of any length) on the AT or any other hiking trail. Feel free to contact me with any questions/ comments/ concerns, and best of luck to everyone, on whatever path you take. --Scholar ______________________________________________________________________________________ THERE (AND BACK AGAIN?) a hiker¢s tale by Rachael Schultz ¢Scholar¢The Road goes ever on and onDown from the door where it began,Now far ahead the Road has gone,And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with weary feet,Until it joins some larger way,Where many paths and errands meet.And whither then? I cannot say.-- J.R.R. Tolkein The Lord of the Rings______________________________________________________________________________________3.12.049:45pmThe Journey Begins¢¦¢¦tomorrow?! Can it be? The possibility that everything that I¢ve been anticipating will have its beginning in such a near moment is rather unreal¢¦surreal¢¦overwhelming. All day I¢ve been beset by a swarm of conflicting emotions coursing through me -- nervousness, excitement, anxiety, determination, frustration, sorrow, but most of all -- anticipation. It¢s really happening! Tomorrow is the start of a new season in my life, just like the nascent spring I see budding and blossoming around me daily. They say that rarely does a person receive the chance to simply put their previous life and actions behind them and change, but I feel like such an opportunity lies before me. I don¢t anticipate an immediate and wholesale personality shift, but I do expect to be able to leave all of the petty worries and concerns of mainstream America behind. I also relish the thought that I will forgo the majority of the political bickering and squabbling, finger-pointing and name-calling, certain to surround the upcoming election. The alienation from current events and news will require a period of mental adjustment, no less than the physical acclimation will take. Once I embark on this journey, things will be very different. My life will be very different. And the departure is tomorrow, the day I leave everyone and everything (except for the few (?!) belongings that I will dutifully tromp up and down mountains, carrying, as mom said today, ¢just like a turtle, your home on your back.¢) behind me and look toward the future, one day at a time. I think one of the reasons I¢ve been plagued and assailed by doubts about this adventure is that it¢s so atypical for me. Not that it¢s an irresponsible decision; just that it lacks that weighty sensibleness that always seems to characterize my choices. Up to this point, my life has been defined by a series of stages with definite, rational goals. Walking and talking were no brainers, reading I had down pat by kindergarten. Elementary school was devoted toward reaching middle school, which served as a transition through the joys of adolescence and menarche to high school. High school was a period of intense boredom, alleviated temporarily by hockey, surviving which got me into Swarthmore. The rigors of academics at Swat kicked my mental butt, but sheer will (and copious, innumerable hours of studying) brought about the result, four years later, of being presented with a worthless piece of paper with the words ¢Biological Anthropology¢ placarded across it. Very pretentious-sounding major, but I quickly discovered just how valuable that diploma was. Indescribably¢¦ worthless. Well, I suppose it could always be burned for heat if needed. I know it¢s lying around somewhere¢¦ Twenty-two years of study and learning, a degree from a prestigious college, and I landed a job making coffee at Barnes and Noble, your local bookseller. I think, however, the dilemma was not over the (lack of) value of my degree, but rather that I was directionless, I had lost my guide. My entire life, I had been following a path set before me, laid out by multitudes of forerunners who had ironed out the kinks. But after college, the well-trod path became overrun by brambles. I had to forge my own way. And that was a shock to me. I¢d become so accustomed to having a plan that I felt lost and______________________________________________________________________________________ ¢I pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs¢¦¢ -- Frodo Baggins.______________________________________________________________________________________adrift. But now I realize that it was the concept of having a plan, rather than the plan itself, that enamored me. It gave me comfort to know I was working toward something. I even convinced myself temporarily that I¢d regained that old, well-worn path of my past with my job with the Park Service. But, I was only deceiving myself. My decision to hike the AT was made as a statement, to myself, that I don¢t have a plan for the indefinite future, and moreover, I don¢t need one. I¢ll hike for 6 months and after that? We¢ll see. Something¢ll happen. What? Beats the heck out of me. Now I just have to reconcile this decision with the sense that it¢s so alien to my previous personality. That¢s where the doubts come in. The anxiety and frustration I mentioned earlier stemmed from qualms about my equipment. I hadn¢t field tested my stove before today. Heck, I hadn¢t even lit the darn thing. When I attempted to fire it up this afternoon, do some productive and fascinating water boiling, the bloody wind kicked up out of nowhere (naturally) and the tiny flames emanating from the stove suddenly flared up. Thought the little bugger was going to light the patio furniture on fire, but then the wind promptly extinguished the flame. My fingers, raw and frozen from the bitter wind chill, couldn¢t suffer the thought of another attempt, so I admitted defeat. But I conquered the bloody stove in the end, with the assistance of dad. We fired her up, no troubles whatsoever, this evening. Am wondering if the contraption can smell my fear. I dreaded having to ask another hiker to work my stove (broadcasting my ineptitude to the AT world), but if I can get her going once, by jimney, I can do it again. Another source of frustration is that my bloody pack weighs 40-odd bloody pounds, before water and fuel. Bugger! Well, I¢ll just have to shoulder it as best I can. At least to Neel¢s Gap. But mom and I, accompanied by Woody -- who made 3 new friends (2 canine and 1 homo sapien) -- hiked Adam Falls with no real discomfort from the weight of the pack. Of course, that was only 1 mile, on flat terrain. Springer¢ll kick my butt, I¢m sure. Which leads me to another doubt I have. Initially, I was so excited and looking forward to setting out on my own, solely independent for myself, enjoying the solitude. But now, as the moment actually encroaches nearer, I find myself wishing that I wasn¢t cutting every tie, that someone was coming with me, at least until the butterflies in my stomach flew off, or set up permanent camp. Wishing that dad were coming. But, I¢ve laid my own course, set my own table, made my own bed, and I¢m living with that decision. And, despite all my doubts, looking forward to it with unmatched and unheralded excitement and anticipation. Planning only carries you so far in life. It¢s the act of taking action that constitutes living. Carpe diem.