Date: 2004-02-07
To: Winding Down and Reentry, Maybe
Miles today: 0.0

Yesterday, I wrote an essay on my beloved AT-L hiking list in response to a prospective '04 thru-hiker's query about Life After Trail. I wanted to share it here, because it's a pretty good summary of what's going on post-Trail.In addition, many of you know my father has always been a factor during my hikes, part of my story. Elderly, in frail health, dad had me worried every time I was out, because if my father needed me, by gum, I wanted to be there. Seven weeks after my '03 thru-hike finished, my father fell and fractured his shoulder. That started a downhill slide; bedridden, dad entered Hospice care in December. Pneumonia becomes a factor for an immobilized 85-year-old, and I think dad just felt it was time to go. He said he was ready. We watched him slip away by increments and fight for breath, but in the end, he died softly, with a wonderful expression of peace on his face. I sure hope that means something.I don't happen to think death is an outrage, but I was unprepared for the real sense of loss - my mother, and now my father too, are gone. Besides the deep attachment, there is always this sense in the back of one's mind - if I REALLY screw up, THEY are always there for me. The Protectors. Now, that's no longer the case. It's up to me 100 percent now.So, large as it has been, this particular journey for me is winding down as other life experiences flow in: I'm going to build a house this year. I hope to hike the John Muir Trail with friends. I still hope to have a book ready for Trail Days, and if my family delays have precluded that, I'll just bring it out later.I know I haven't done all the gears reviews here I'd wished to, because so much time was spent attending to family matters and other vital issues. The body has largely recovered, although one heel still hurts, and one hip. I ate too many carbs at Christmas, and then comfort food as I sat with dad, and now I have to walk more. And I still haven't resolved my struggles with Time. Maybe I'm not supposed to, eh?Here's my AT-L post. The '04 hiker speaks first:Message: 41Date: Fri, 6 Feb 2004 14:56:37 -0800 (GMT-08:00)From: janl2@mindspring.comSubject: Re: [at-l] Lurker emerges from the shadowsCc: at-l@mailman.backcountry.net>And I know that too, which is maybe why I'm agonizing more about after than>during. Points about carts and horses are well-taken. But everyone goes on>and on about what a life-changing experience it is and how I'll come back a>different person (I do have a handful of thru-hiker friends and sources of>information) and it's a little threatening.---Well, I think you are wise to ask these questions, and for the most part they are inevitable. Yah, I was worried (agonizing?) about that issue too before my thru-hike of '03.Maybe I still should be. I'm not sure I've re-entered yet.Part of that was due to circumstances you probably won't need to face. Home stress is Number One. I sold off my horses, let go of my long-term lease on my farm. I didn't have a home of my own to come home to, although a dear friend provided me with a soft landing and a place to stay. Then, my father needed my help so after I finished the thru.I haven't hardly unpacked my stuff yet, so when I need something I own ("whereis my trail guide? Where is my underwear?") I usually go out and just buy itagain, because it's buried in the back of storage. I hate that feeling.I live all over the map. I'm still at my father's house sorting out the place, a process that will take a good month or so of back-and-forthing. I wailed to my roomie last month, as I was walkingout the door for the umpteenth time, "I just don't know where I live anymore!"That's acceptable on the Trail, but not as cool off-trail.I felt fearless on the Trail, and very free internally, at least that's my recollection now. When I returned, there was a fair amount of observed internal fear in me. Mostly,it was feeling directionless. I didn't know what I wanted to do. After all, as my AT'03 friend Notes astutely observed, there are no white blazes back in civilization. If you return to a job or a spouse, it may be less so for you. You also may not want to work. That seems a pretty common reaction. Having experienced an unshackled life, it's hard to step back into the traces. Economics will likely take care of that! Ha! I didn't go looking for business for several months, having saved for that distinct possibility. I used the time to look for land and/or a house, and to write a book about the Long Trail. Eventually, the business found me again, so I took that as a sign to begin again(along with the diminishment of my allotted savings!). The surprise was how much pleasure I was taking from work, an activity that had been stale before I left. I think the lesson is to take sabbaticals periodically. Ha! ;-)In any case, the return to civilized routines did happen for me. In fact, today I'm celebrating the acceptance of my low-ball offer on a sweet pieceof ground - abutting and surrounded on two sides by an undeveloped state park ofvirgin long-leaf pine that will stay undeveloped (rare red cockaded woodpecker habitat). I'm going to live in the woods after all!As for being prepared for the Trail, just accept that you'll make mistakes, especially in gear and such. There are ample opportunities to rectify these mistakes along the way, early on.As for the rest, the Trail will teach you what to do. Really, it does. You'll see.Best of luck, and may you find the same internal magic I felt,Jan LiteShoeAT '03