On the end of a long-distance trip

Transitioning back to a “soft” lifestyle from the trail is similar to getting off of a treadmill after running for an hour: the rest of the world is static, slow, comfortable and you are speeding ahead at the same tempo, aware of sounds and movements no one else sees. At the same time, the world is multi-tasking, while you are only good at performing the automatic, instinctual movements of the trail: preparing for the day, walking measured by a mental odometer, making meals, and finding water.

Why did humans evolve from nomadic hunting and gathering when this transient lifestyle feels so good? Is there something in our DNA: our bodies’ residual nostalgia for the uncertain lifestyle of the hunt? Or maybe it is a matter of digging shallower than that, back a few generations when living was more in sync with the ebb and flow of nature. When years weren’t marked from tax-season to tax-season, vacation days to vacation days, Grammy’s to Grammy’s, but instead by the gradations of nature. The amount of daylight increasing, then decreasing, the northern hemisphere thawing, then freezing, the spring rain filling streams and aquifers and evaporation & transpiration sucking them lower, crops planted germinating growing harvested gone to seed, the flowers of the spring and summer, leaves of the fall: Are we jealous of a world operating by these gentle changes, dramatic in their contrast and subtle in their progression?

Of course we know the answer to that question. We have chosen comfort and consistency over unpredictability. And as much as I love hiking, I also like people (sometimes). And feel a responsibility to contribute in my own way to society.

This is the third time I have had to deal with the transition from the trail to town-life, and I can tell you that it gets easier with time. I am learning to apply the things that I learn from the hiking life to my non-hiking life. It is learning to revert back to domestication (showers, toilets, water faucets, small talk), without letting go of the whimsy of life on the GO. Most of all, what I have learned is that everyone has an environmental sin or two. Everyone who has any kind of environmental scruples has a hypocritical gap between what they believe is the right way to live and their day-to-day actions. Guilt, like stress, is a double-edged tool that motivates change. It is about striking a balance, between feeling guilty about lifestyle choices and adopting a laissez faire attitude with the world: learning to harness your conscience for productive means and not let guilt corrode you.

And it’s good to eat cooked food again. I don’t know how much longer I could take peanuts for every meal.

Neusiok Trail

My Dad and I hiked most of the Neusiok Trail, the 18.5 miles from Mill Creek Rd to Pine Cliffs Picnic Area. We found the trail to be well-maintained, blessed with good-weather (both days stretched towards 70 degrees F), well-graded (pancake-flat), and devoid of dangerous megafauna (snakes, alligators, bears).

It made a relaxing two-day trip.

Hoorah for the swamp! Tomorrow, north to New York.

Total MST miles: 614.2 (444.9 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 733.9 (495.8 foot, 238.1 bike)

YouTube Debut, What Next?

This is a big moment. I have compiled my photographs, gathered my thoughts, synchronized photos with miles & favorite hiking music, and learned how to use iMovie (really neat, easy application). So here it is: my YouTube debut.

Part one
5.5 minutes long, from the Outer Banks to the Appalachian Mountain foothills

Part two
7.5 minutes long, from the foothills through the Blue Ridge Mountains

Enjoy~

The last Pisgah Stretch

By March 1st, I was done walking, for the time being. I don't mean that in a defeated, broken down, bored way. I was just finished.

There is something triumphant about choosing your own path, even if it means going against the flow (the "flow" in this case referring to the MST - not exactly a white-water-rapids flow, but a steady trickle of hikers at the jostling rate of 2/year). There comes a time on every trip when it's time to go home. Home, sometimes an ambiguous term, refers in this case to a "homing instinct" - the type of instinct that pets use to find their way to their owners, or trout use to find their way to their natal ground when they're ready to breed. Is home comfort? Maybe. More than that, it is effortless. For me, it's sometimes on the trail. Maybe it is more a way of following your instinct to the place where you can be most balanced.

Whatever the reason, something flipped that switch 90 miles short of Clingman's Dome, and here I am: finished with this segment of the trip.

My brain gears are spinning, trying inevitably to tie a pretty bow around this trip and conclude with a brief, witty moral to take away from my MST experience. Wouldn't that be nice? Scramble me up some thoughts, make a breakfast-tale out of the ordeal! But summaries compromise too much, so I will end this blog post as I end all of the trail posts:

Total MST miles: 595.7 (426.4 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 715.4 (477.3 foot, 238.1 bike)