[Day 98] Present Tense

Many imagine a long-distance hike to be a soul searching event where one blissfully discovers themselves and personal meaning through contemplation, scenery, and physical exercise. I do not disagree necessarily — there are certainly moments of this. But, for the 98% of the time when you aren’t frolicking in a field with profound knowledge of the universe, the experience is raw: solitude, struggle, survival. It’s not so much survival in the sense that you are concerned over death, but more survival in the sense of getting through the moment. And, to get through that moment, you must be present and engaged with whatever you immediately face for every second, minute, and hour. Contrary to what you might expect, these are the moments when you gain the most — not the zealous time of contemplation where you yearn for some epiphany. The trail reminds me with every second that I can not simply exist — I must engage with my mind, with my body, with my passion.

The CDT is a daily cage fight with the environment, and I have found that’s the way it should be. Is there any other way to live but constantly struggling with what you do, who you are, or how you are? The obvious answer is yes. But, at the end of the day, do you gain anything from a life of complacency? Disagreement with your environment leads to progress and development, but you must willingly embrace and own the circumstances.

What brought this topic to mind? I have certainly had more trying days on the trail than today, but the topic was on my mind nonetheless. I slept in this morning after a sleepless night in town yesterday. The gray and gloom of the skies coupled with the dismal, endless miles of burned forest encapsulated the emotion for the day. Add to it, the skies spit precipitation from dawn to dusk. The idea of living in the present tense was critical — I had 10 or more hours of hiking to complete regardless of the weather or how I felt.

I wetted out and dried out many times over as I hurdled miles of charred black blowdowns. The burn was not simply from one fire. It was apparent the many burn zones had seen fires of different years and decades. Miles of lone gray poles stood in homage to the forest that once was.

By late afternoon, the rain cleared enough for snack break. On the mountainside adjacent to me, I heard and watched the stick-snapping stampede of elk charging through the rummage and obstacles of dead forest. Elk have a miraculous talent of navigating immensely thick forest rummage at inhuman speeds. These horned horses of the forest can run 40mph and jump eight feet vertically.

After my last water source of the day, the crackle of thunder filled the parted sky as dark clouds moved northeast in my direction. In the distance, I observed as the outline of mountains become engulfed in cloud and rain. I was worried about flooding in the valleys, so I scooted my way up the next climb and started pitching my tent as the front of the storm pelted the earth with hail. I hunkered in my shelter, ate dinner, then hung my food in the pouring rain. It rained into the early hours of the morning.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)