From A to B

Wow. Deja Vu all over again. Having left NYC this most recent time on March 29th, I now find myself sitting at home in CT trying to prepare myself for this next endeavor, hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). For the few whom I haven't repeatedly knocked in the head with this information (and for Roshina, who has probably just forgotten it by now), the trail extends from the Mexican border in California to Manning Park, Canada, just across the line from Washington. It traverses desert in the south, snow covered passes and high meadows in the Sierra Nevada Mts., Rain in the Cascades, runs the length of Yosemite Valley, touches briefly the Highest point in the contiguous USA at Mt. Whitney, and the second deepest lake in the world at Crater Lake (technically side trips, but who could pass those up), and in general is a 2600 mile trek of all around awsomeness. As anyone who has read the previous blog posts knows, it probably won't be easy. Scratch that; as anyone who has ever considered the prospect of walking 2600 miles with a 35 pound pack on knows, it almost certainly won't be easy...

Even now I find myself hedging my bets. "Probably won't be easy" is a fairly large understatement, but given my experiences on the Appalachian Trail in 2008, I feel it necessary to be ambiguous (who knows, it could be a breeze, but prolly' not, oy.) A trip of this kind is more of a prolonged, 4-6 month effort, a near constant striving for the finish that consumes one's every thought, that demands ever action taken be in service of reaching the end. As such, any accident, any fault can destroy the beautiful thing that is a thru-hike. Literally any missed step can be the one leading down the path to catastrophe, a twisted ankle being just as bad as a snake bite. Or a rock slide. Or a brush fire. The point is there are no assurances, even at mile #2599, that one will finish, and even the smallest flaw in the execution of a single stride can render the whole thing null and void.

Yet therein lies one of my prime reasons for loving the long hike; its purity. I suppose that is a rather haughty term to use, to but it is not without reason. The hike is just a walk, though a rather longish one. It is the simple act of transporting oneself from point A to point B, using as few intermediaries as possible. No cars, planes, or trains shortening the miles to Canada. No specific dates to be anywhere, but a certainty that you have to get there sometime. No external pressure to finish, but the insurmountable knowledge that you'll be crushed if you don't at least try. No rent, job or bulky possessions. No unnecessary comforts or extraneous fears.

However, thats not to say there are no worries, but instead that they are all subsumed within the microcosm of the trail; the worries while hiking are all that seem to exist. For every ounce of pack weight that hikers obsess over, there is an analogous problem in the rest of the world, some "real" thing worth worrying about. Only those trials that universally arouse horror in every heart and are so sweeping as to be unavoidable (a natural disaster, war or worse) can stand apart. For most other situations, this parallel view can serve as a useful foil.

As such, doing something as arbitrary and pure, as simpleminded as a long distance hike puts everything else in perspective. Perhaps its the desire to own the latest gadget. Or find a higher paying job. To score the hottest chick, have the most popular YouTube video, protect/ spread/ manipulate your political party/ religion/sexual preference... All are arbitrary in the sense that they involve goals and problems largely set by the rest of the world. Walking from A to B is one of the simplest goals imaginable, attainable since since the ancient evolution of legs. Hiking the long trail highlights how much it is taken for granted, and by proxy every other act built upon it--from using opposable thumbs to typing on a keyboard. Everything is appreciated more after a hike, much as a man surviving a near death experience finds newfound joy in life. If the French were more prone to hiking than they were lovemaking, I'm sure they'd call the long trail "le petit mort."

Anyway, I should stop. Otherwise it will keep going forever. But before I go, I'll answer the one question the most people have asked me repeatedly (that is if the obscene length of this post hasn't done so already.) Yes. Yes I am excited about going on my hike, even if I don't show it very well. I probably just don't feel like boring you, or wasting my time elucidating, otherwise you's be subject to this kind of longwindedness every day. At least this way its your choice to read.