12.17.18
There's a lot of synchronicity and different energy going around which is hard to pin down or appreciate logically sometimes. It's a feeling. A sort of clearing...a different sort of perspective on things. For weeks after the PCT all I could do was stare at the accumulated photos and watch other people's videos and experiences coming in from the trail. I didn't want anything but PCT on repeat. It was a sort of myopic tunnel-vision that I couldn't (nor did I want to) escape. The trail had been a bubble of security and momentum and had become my entire way of dealing with the passing of my mom. It was one succinct package of experience that I didn't have to look past to appreciate. The only thing I worried about for those six months was how far to hike, what to eat, and who to share it with as our family transitioned through this experience. I won't say anything else on the post-hike world. I think its all been said at this point and although there's no way to see where your perspective is really at at any given moment in life I will say that the past two weeks have held a remarkable set of experiences that helped in a big way.
Hanne came all the way back from Zurich and her can-do attitude helped knock some common sense back into me. We hiked the foothills of Albuquerque, the more challenging Laluz Trail high up into the freezing early winter snows that I'd trained on before the trail, and then took a two-day trip down to Silver City where the CDT actually crosses. I'd been reading about the Continental Divide Trail over Thanksgiving and my heart started racing every time I thought of planning another thru-hike. It just gave me old-fashioned butterflies looking at pictures of the mountain lakes and passes. Of course the CDT is a different beast altogether. It's not even officially finished as far as I can tell although this year the adjoined committees agreed on an official 'best general route' that they've posted online. Also, this route was re-blazed this year so that's a plus.
We drove down through smaller towns I hadn't seen in ages like Truth or Consequences and Demming, over some snowy passes in southern mountains I would have never imagined in New Mexico, until we reached the sleepy town of Silver City and stopped in at the Chamber of Commerce to inquire about the best way to get on the CDT.
The woman behind the desk was extremely helpful as she'd hiked all the nearby trails herself and told us about the Walnut Rd access point just outside town so we hopped back in the car and took off until it turned to dirt road and we started passing trailheads leading off into various sections of high-desert forest i.e. lots of juniper and pine mixed with rocky bright brown earth.
We made a quick lunch and sauntered off north with no idea how far we'd really get. For the first time we realized there was no prescribed distanced we had to make...but boy did the pack feel good. It was maybe 10 lbs lighter than how it had been on the PCT but it was the same Osprey Escalante and after a few hills and some huffing and puffing and a light shoulder ache on the left side I felt right at home. It was almost surreal watching Hanne's feet 2 meters ahead going back and forth and I lost myself in the old rhythm for awhile.
When we came up to a gated property line we could see a Catholic monastery in the distance and every half hour or so the chime of bells came ringing over the hills. The terrain, for this short distance at least was sort of like the southern California sections had been. Similar flora and geology but no real passes or switchbacks like we'd encountered in the very first day onward back in March. Just rolling ups and down...a distinct lack of animal sounds...and a midday sun that was heading down fast with whisps of misty clouds like ephemeral veils moving about.
We only made about five miles before we came upon a campsite...must have been used by plenty of thru-hikers...and we stopped and looked about and realized this was as good as any other place. The ground was still wet from a good rain the day before and a decent fire-pit surrounded by sitting logs looked like the centerpiece of the deal so we unpacked and after a few mistrials I remembered how my other alpine tent actually worked. Hanne was laughing as I stuck wrong poles into wrong sections over and over...of course I'd only used it once before when I thought it was going to be my PCT tent. The thought now sounded ludicrous. The thing weighed about six pounds and spread out to what seemed like 14 ft with the dual vestibules staked out. Thankfully, Randy had talked me out of it...to the point where he helped in the purchase of a Big Agnes 1P which stuffed into a pocket and weighed less than a pair of wet socks.
Either way it was great to be out there...just out in the fresh air on the CDT of all places...trying to get a fire going with damp sticks and pine needles. I was about to give up but Hanne wouldn't have it and after about 30 minutes we got it hot enough to sustain a decent roar.
We set up the old stove, used the old sporks, inflated the old pads, and looked at the old stars under the old sky before putting out the fire and sneaking into our bags for a chilly December night.
Sleep was tough but it came and we had no real schedule to keep the next day so we slept in and slowly made breakfast before heading back out to the trailhead.
Things felt different. The shock of civilization had worn off and the romance of the PCT had some perspective to it. Of course, you want to keep walking forever and you can...but life is a balancing act full of summits and valleys and right now was just the long plain before the next climb...but there were shapes and shadows emerging through the smoke and it brought me a sense of understanding.
We rolled back into down just minutes away and stopped in at the Javalina Cafe for some coffee and sat on an old couch. Hanne spied a CDT log book and we opened it up to find no more than 9 entries from 2018. All the towns and businesses along the PCT used to have them and I'd always sit there wondering what to write...at first we all left deep philosophical paragraphs...then logs became whimsical and at the very end at the Canadian border I remembered reading simply "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now" from the Forrest Gump movie. Pretty much. We're all home now. Wherever that is. We like each other's posts on Facebook and Instagram. We share photos and information and check in on each other here and there. We're all either recovering or covertly working on the next adventure. My toes stopped going numb the week Hanne was here although it's still difficult to run. The knees will take some time. I had a few issues on the PCT with pain and stiffness like everyone but our little hikes were actually good rehab.
A couple days later we said goodbye at the Albuquerque Sunport and my heart dropped in a way it hadn't for a long time. It had been different in San Fransisco back in October. The energy had been so relentless. I'd had no idea was coming next in life and the reality of 'saying goodbye' didn't register, but this time I sincerely didn't want her to leave...
So...it's my turn to head to Switzerland after passports are renewed and flights are booked. Funny thing I never mention is that I've always had a romantic pull toward Switzerland. Toward the Alps and the countries bordering them. So did my mom. We'd even talked about hiking the circuit around the base and staying in the cabins along the way. Long before the PCT I'd had a vintage tourist reprint poster of the Alps framed on my wall and would watch drone footage of the little Swiss villages dotting green countryside put to music on Youtube to relax. The last time I was in Europe over ten years ago I didn't get to see Switzerland so I'm pretty excited for that to happened sooner than later.
The old house is quiet. I live upstairs in a room with a balcony overlooking the west side of town. It's warm up here. Rent is cheap and in some ways I'm in the exact same position I was over a year ago before this whole trail idea started...the little seeds being planted...the hints of possibility...visions floating around. Life still out there...always on the horizon.
Hanne came all the way back from Zurich and her can-do attitude helped knock some common sense back into me. We hiked the foothills of Albuquerque, the more challenging Laluz Trail high up into the freezing early winter snows that I'd trained on before the trail, and then took a two-day trip down to Silver City where the CDT actually crosses. I'd been reading about the Continental Divide Trail over Thanksgiving and my heart started racing every time I thought of planning another thru-hike. It just gave me old-fashioned butterflies looking at pictures of the mountain lakes and passes. Of course the CDT is a different beast altogether. It's not even officially finished as far as I can tell although this year the adjoined committees agreed on an official 'best general route' that they've posted online. Also, this route was re-blazed this year so that's a plus.
We drove down through smaller towns I hadn't seen in ages like Truth or Consequences and Demming, over some snowy passes in southern mountains I would have never imagined in New Mexico, until we reached the sleepy town of Silver City and stopped in at the Chamber of Commerce to inquire about the best way to get on the CDT.
The woman behind the desk was extremely helpful as she'd hiked all the nearby trails herself and told us about the Walnut Rd access point just outside town so we hopped back in the car and took off until it turned to dirt road and we started passing trailheads leading off into various sections of high-desert forest i.e. lots of juniper and pine mixed with rocky bright brown earth.
We made a quick lunch and sauntered off north with no idea how far we'd really get. For the first time we realized there was no prescribed distanced we had to make...but boy did the pack feel good. It was maybe 10 lbs lighter than how it had been on the PCT but it was the same Osprey Escalante and after a few hills and some huffing and puffing and a light shoulder ache on the left side I felt right at home. It was almost surreal watching Hanne's feet 2 meters ahead going back and forth and I lost myself in the old rhythm for awhile.
When we came up to a gated property line we could see a Catholic monastery in the distance and every half hour or so the chime of bells came ringing over the hills. The terrain, for this short distance at least was sort of like the southern California sections had been. Similar flora and geology but no real passes or switchbacks like we'd encountered in the very first day onward back in March. Just rolling ups and down...a distinct lack of animal sounds...and a midday sun that was heading down fast with whisps of misty clouds like ephemeral veils moving about.
We only made about five miles before we came upon a campsite...must have been used by plenty of thru-hikers...and we stopped and looked about and realized this was as good as any other place. The ground was still wet from a good rain the day before and a decent fire-pit surrounded by sitting logs looked like the centerpiece of the deal so we unpacked and after a few mistrials I remembered how my other alpine tent actually worked. Hanne was laughing as I stuck wrong poles into wrong sections over and over...of course I'd only used it once before when I thought it was going to be my PCT tent. The thought now sounded ludicrous. The thing weighed about six pounds and spread out to what seemed like 14 ft with the dual vestibules staked out. Thankfully, Randy had talked me out of it...to the point where he helped in the purchase of a Big Agnes 1P which stuffed into a pocket and weighed less than a pair of wet socks.
Either way it was great to be out there...just out in the fresh air on the CDT of all places...trying to get a fire going with damp sticks and pine needles. I was about to give up but Hanne wouldn't have it and after about 30 minutes we got it hot enough to sustain a decent roar.
We set up the old stove, used the old sporks, inflated the old pads, and looked at the old stars under the old sky before putting out the fire and sneaking into our bags for a chilly December night.
Sleep was tough but it came and we had no real schedule to keep the next day so we slept in and slowly made breakfast before heading back out to the trailhead.
Things felt different. The shock of civilization had worn off and the romance of the PCT had some perspective to it. Of course, you want to keep walking forever and you can...but life is a balancing act full of summits and valleys and right now was just the long plain before the next climb...but there were shapes and shadows emerging through the smoke and it brought me a sense of understanding.
We rolled back into down just minutes away and stopped in at the Javalina Cafe for some coffee and sat on an old couch. Hanne spied a CDT log book and we opened it up to find no more than 9 entries from 2018. All the towns and businesses along the PCT used to have them and I'd always sit there wondering what to write...at first we all left deep philosophical paragraphs...then logs became whimsical and at the very end at the Canadian border I remembered reading simply "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now" from the Forrest Gump movie. Pretty much. We're all home now. Wherever that is. We like each other's posts on Facebook and Instagram. We share photos and information and check in on each other here and there. We're all either recovering or covertly working on the next adventure. My toes stopped going numb the week Hanne was here although it's still difficult to run. The knees will take some time. I had a few issues on the PCT with pain and stiffness like everyone but our little hikes were actually good rehab.
A couple days later we said goodbye at the Albuquerque Sunport and my heart dropped in a way it hadn't for a long time. It had been different in San Fransisco back in October. The energy had been so relentless. I'd had no idea was coming next in life and the reality of 'saying goodbye' didn't register, but this time I sincerely didn't want her to leave...
So...it's my turn to head to Switzerland after passports are renewed and flights are booked. Funny thing I never mention is that I've always had a romantic pull toward Switzerland. Toward the Alps and the countries bordering them. So did my mom. We'd even talked about hiking the circuit around the base and staying in the cabins along the way. Long before the PCT I'd had a vintage tourist reprint poster of the Alps framed on my wall and would watch drone footage of the little Swiss villages dotting green countryside put to music on Youtube to relax. The last time I was in Europe over ten years ago I didn't get to see Switzerland so I'm pretty excited for that to happened sooner than later.
The old house is quiet. I live upstairs in a room with a balcony overlooking the west side of town. It's warm up here. Rent is cheap and in some ways I'm in the exact same position I was over a year ago before this whole trail idea started...the little seeds being planted...the hints of possibility...visions floating around. Life still out there...always on the horizon.
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