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{Tidbit}

I found it very difficult to summarize and reflect on my trip as a cohesive event, so I've been breaking it up. Some epilogues are just thoughts about bigger issues on the trial.

Epilogue I - Thru-Hiking?
Epilogue II - Worth It?
Epilogue III - Courage?
Epilogue IV - Epic?
Epilogue V - Being Left Behind
Epilogue VI - Journalizing
12/25/02 -Three months later
04/04/03 -Almost a year later

There's some discussion online about what is and what is not a thru-hike. I may have written about it in my journal too.

The short of it is that some would say that I did not do a thru-hike of the PCT because of how I got to Panther Creek Campground, just over the Washington border.

Others would add that when I took a pedestrian-only alternate route, such as going along Crater Lake rim, or taking the Eagle Creek, that I voided my claims to a thru-hike.

Still others would claim that if I walked off trail to a stream and didn't take the same trail back to the PCT, that I wasn't thru-hiking.

I come to the same conclusion that most everyone else does: Hike your own hike. Only the person hiking can decide whether he or she has done a thru-hike.

In looking at how to get to Panther Creek I chose to stay with my friends. I'm glad I did. Hiking with Flutterby, Cheddarhead, Bug and the others through Washington was great. In my eyes, it sort-of taints my claims to thru-hiking, but I can live with it. I had a thru-hiking experience, and know that I was on the more-strict side of interpretation. I know lots of people who consider themselves thru-hikers that had many more deviations from the route.

I know how to do things exactly perfect. I chose not to. I wasn't being lazy or trying to get out of hiking. If I wanted to easily get to Manning Park from Campo, I could have bought a bus ticket.

In Southern California, we joked, saying, "Hike your own hike" was the equivalent of saying, "Go fuck yourself." It was a way of saying, "I don't agree with you, but you do what you want to do." Now I don't know know what to think.

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Epilogue II -Worth It?

I finding it difficult to give a clean, neat summary of my trip. The trip was so much, and I'm not one for broad sweeping pronouncements.
It seems silly to say, but the trip was worth it. It was worth it, and so much more.

When I was planning, I often questioned whether the effort was worth it. I was fully ensconced in a full-time job and a satisfying social life. The many details of planning the trip made my days longer. The conflict between needing to save money for the trip and enjoying my life-going out to dinner, hanging out with my friends-created stress.

During my first many weeks on the trail, I actively knew all the extra effort in my planning worth it. I would smile thinking of what I had set up for myself. I was consistently happy that I wasn't doing my former commute.

As the trip continued and the novelty of now having hiking as my 'job' faded, I again began to wonder if it was all worth it. All I had to do was to think about the trail I'd already finished, and I'd confirm that it was worth it.
I'd think back to unusual places on the trail, to any number of small adventures, to being in my bag, content and exhausted, and I'd love my trip all over again.
I'd also think ahead to what I still had to see: The Klamath River, Crater Lake, Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier, and the Goat Rocks Wilderness. I knew of these landmarks, and knew that there would be amazing things I would see and experience that would be my own personal landmarks on the trip. These little things were part of only my trip. Knowing I had sites and adventures still to experience also helped me dismiss questions of quitting.

I wrote several times in my journal about my frustrations and fears along the trail. These always prompted encouraging emails from friends telling me not to give up, not to quit. I appreciated their support.
I don't think I was ever in serious danger of quitting. I was at points where I was beginning to consider what it would be like to bail, but a little examination always convinced me that I wanted to stay, that I wanted to complete my goal and the trail.

I was also at points where I was afraid of being overwhelmed by circumstances and excuses. I used the same skills I always do when faced with this type of predicament. I evaluate what's true, what I can do about it, and move on. I faced no circumstances that I could not overcome, and no excuses that were going to take me off the trail.

I recognize that I could have had a very different trip, one with reasons I should leave the trail. The health of those I love could have pulled me off. Natural conditions could have led to the end of my trip. Lots of things could have gotten in my way, but did not. Yipee!

Now, after finishing, I've had some thoughts about whether it was worth it. All I have to do is think back, and look at my journal, photos, and inbox with emails from new friends to know that it was. I am so much clearer now about what's important and what's not. Making decisions that were so close to my basic survival almost every day for five months is what I think helped me get to this place.

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Epilogue III - Courage?

Basically courage is risking the know for the unknown, the familiar for the unfamiliar, the comfortable for the uncomfortable, arduous pilgrimage to some unknown destination. One never knows whether one will be able to make it or not.
-Osho

I found this quote while in my Seattle vortex. It really stayed with me. The book was about spiritual growth and courage. It says to me that hiking the PCT is not courageous.
I guess that I never thought it was particularly courageous to hike the PCT. It is just an arduous pilgrimage, or, now, after almost two months off the trail, a less-than-arduous pilgrimage. It's crazy to think of the trip as not being arduous. I guess it's a matter of attitude.

The quote also caused me to evaluate the experience as a pilgrimage. Is hiking the PCT a pilgrimage?
Canada is not a sacred place, so maybe the hike is not a pilgrimage, but just the journey of a wayfarer. If I see living in nature as foreign, at least in contrast to my 'normal' life with cars, homes, and the Internet, and see nature as sacred -or even better see my the process of hiking as sacred-, then hiking the PCT could be considered a pilgrimage.

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Epilogue IV-Epic?

Many people expect me to have an epic sense of accomplishment. I'm actually glad they do. It reminds me that I DID do an amazing thing. The thing is; I don't have this great feeling for having finished. I simply feels like I walked a bunch of days strung together; That I walked on some short hikes from town to town.

Someone hiking a mountain, who has a finite number of days, say four, has a cadence to the accomplishment topped with 'reaching the top,' a clear milestone.

Finishing was so far off when I started. My mind, outlook, and sense of the trip changed so much during the trip. At some point on the trip, I confirmed for myself that I could finish the trip, barring outside interference. I knew I could do it. Then at some point, I had to start pushing myself so that I would finish. All I had was the memory that I wanted to hike the PCT. Out there, it was just a grind.

That grind did get in the way of me fully enjoying my trip. I'm currently reading Jonathan Ley's CDT journal. (www.phlumf.com). The Continental Divide Trail is a trail longer than the PCT which goes down the Rockies from Glacier National Park to New Mexico. I'm only at the one-third point, but he really seems to be enjoying his hike. Toward the end, I was just hiking to finish. Sure, I enjoyed the beauty, enjoyed the company, and enjoyed the experience of moving through the landscape. But I was tired.

Here's the thing: Maybe I was looking for the trip to make me happy. I'm one of those people who struggles with trying to find happiness on the outside. Somewhere I got the idea, which lurks just below my consciousness of it, that someone, some thing, or some amount of money is what's between where I am now and happiness. I've learned time and again that happiness is inside.

I guess there's a reason I have to relearn this lesson. I've learned it enough that if I find myself feeling unhappy, I look inside. What I haven't learned to catch yet myself setting up expectations that something outside will lead to happiness.

So, if I learned anything on this trip it's that hiking the PCT can not make you happy.

Hiking the PCT can be a lot of fun; introduce you to an incredible group of people; show you the amazing beauty of nature; teach you about your yourself; make it easy to slice up a new pair of shoes; remember things and people from your past that you'd NEVER thought you'd think about again; give you a fresh prospective about driving, consuming, and possessions; appreciate a comfortable bed; make you a great walker; and many other little things.

Or at least it did for me.

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Epilogue V -Being Left Behind

I discovered while hiking the PCT that I had a fear of being left behind. I also made great strides toward ameliorating and eliminating that fear during my hike.
I have no idea why I would fear being left behind. My mother never lost me at the grocery store. Growing up, the car never left without me. I have the type of friends in my off-trail life that would wait for me if I was delayed. Nothing I can think of gives me a rational fear of being left behind. Sometimes fears have no explanation.

I would notice in the morning as camp was being broken that I would get a little bit anxious. If I thought I would be the last one leaving, I would speed up my morning routine so that I could leave with everyone else. I didn't necessarily want to be first, or race anybody. I just didn't want to be abandoned.
So I guess that's what it was. I didn't want to be abandoned, and if I was the last to leave camp, I might not know what the plans were. I might not do the miles to be part of the next camp.
As far as I know, everyone I camped with liked camping with me and would enjoy my company an additional night, so I had no reason to think they'd ditch me.

Well, that's interesting. Now I'm worried about being ditched. I did get ditched as a kid. Other kids can be so mean.
Again, I had no reason to think that anyone I was camping with wanted to ditch me. Well...maybe there was a danger of one wanting to ditch me.

I guess this childhood fear of being ditched came up in the group setting of a thru-hike.

I discovered while I was writing this that it was 'being ditched' and not 'being the last to leave camp' which caused me anxiety. I still think I've taken great steps to get over it, whatever it is...

It all comes to thinking it through, communication, and choices. I'll refrain from sharing the thinking it through part except to say that setting aside the emotion to examine a fear or belief frequently helps me understand what's going on.
Communication was a big part of letting go of my fear. A simple question like, Are you going to get water at X? or Where were you thinking of camping tonight? let me know where I could find the person or group.
Realizing that I had choices was what really saved me. If they were going to camp 35 miles from where we slept the night before, I would probably choose to not go that far. If I was making a choice, I wasn't being abandoned or ditched. Or left behind.

Now that I know that it was being ditched that made me uncomfortable, I'm able to dismiss it with the certainty that I didn't have as a child. I know childhood issues die hard. A little bludgeoning can't hurt either.

How's that for a bunch of therapy right here on the Web for everyone to see???

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Epilogue VI - Journalizing

I just read my friend Robin White's journal about a three-part trip he took hiking the Owens River from its source on the east side of the Sierra to the end in alkaline flats south of Bishop. Check it out at www.owensriver.org.

His journal is truly great. It captures the trip on many levels. His hike is part of what would become his award-winning radio program on the Owens River, Giving Back the Owens. But the journal was not part of the show. He just kept a journal while hiking, just like some of us thru-hikers do. He found a great balance between describing the terrain, the experience of hiking the terrain, the flora and fauna, man's interaction with nature, the mind of a hiker alone for days at a time, the details of life on the trail, and details that provide glimpses into a variety of experiences that made his hike uniquely his.

Doing a journal on the trail is finding a balance between a lot of factors. The biggest factor for me was time. I found very little time to journal during the day, even when alone. I would journal after camp was set up, usually as the last light of day. Time for journaling found me in my bag, happily exhausted from a day on the trail. I'd usually have lots I wanted to write about from the day, but the nearly incomprehensible maelstrom leading to a tremendous night of rest was always limiting what I could get down before my mind succumbed to my body. So, I'd get down what I could. Sometimes I'd even just make notes of major points with the hopes of fleshing them out later. Sometimes I did. Other times, I did not. It always seemed that I couldn't lose what I experienced that day. I often felt like XX in Blade Runner when he said as he's dying, "The things I have seen.."

Another factor in creating a journal is how much of the trail to describe. I chose to not to do much trail description. I'd read many journals that seemed to be 90% description of the trail, a sort-of documentation of the trail. I didn't want that. Plus, I unconsciously assumed that readers would be doing what I did: reading lots of different journals; that all readers were potential thru-hikers gleaning what they could from past hikers experiences.

What I didn't really think about was that the primary readers of my journal, at least while I was hiking, would be friends and family who would not be reading other journals. For them a little more, "We moved from the roar of the river up into the Douglas Fir forest. The north side of the trees had a chartreuse moss that came alive in the light of the setting sun..." probably would have made for a better read.

I kept my journal up-to-date as I hiked. People tuned in for updates and looked forward to the next installment. It was a great way for others to experience the trip as it unfolded. What it didn't do was let me develop the writing. Jonathan Ley's CDT journal is a great read. He wrote it all, then posted it to the web as far as I can tell. That technique allows for editing, a cadence to develop, and foreshadowing.

As I think I wrote about, I'd do the best journaling I could day-to-day, put the journal into Dreamweaver, and then throw it on the Web. That took enough time that I did very little editing, other than the occasional spell check.

Now that the hike's over, I want to do more writing; fill in the stories and days I missed, provide clarification, and make it a better read all 'round. There's nothing wrong with that other than those who are closest to the journal, the ones who have been following it week to week, will miss out on the new writing. Unless they reread the whole journal. I don't think anyone wants to do that.

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12/25/02 -Three months later

It has been three months to the day since I finished the trail. I'm fully immersed in the positive changes hiking the trail has made on me.
Before I hiked the trail, I used to run around with way too much to do, often ending my days only as sleep overtook my consciousness. These days I have enough time.
I don't feel stress about much of anything these days. Nothing's that important.

The trail is definitely a distant memory. As I think I've said, I'm glad I have my journal and photos. Cosue sent me a photo of she and I sitting smiling during the last days. It warms my heart each time I see it. I loved living outside for 5 months. I loved moving through the landscape. I can't describe the joy all the blooms on the trail brought me.

All that being true, at the same time I wished I'd had more fun on my trip. I don't know how much I really enjoyed myself. A lot of it was from the grind of having to put in the miles. Being with others made it much more fun. My friends on the trail, in some way, helped me finish the trail.

I'm also aware of how long it took for me to recover from my trip. Now that I'm settled in Tucson, I'm feeling "back to (a new, improved) 'normal'." Until I got here, I had a rough time. I felt like crying most of the time, planning multiple events was incredibly taxing, and I was wracked with indecision, even with the simplest decisions. It was a hard time.
I knew it would pass, and it has. I've been in touch with other hikers in person, over the phone, and through email. It's really helped. I also think that getting back to work, even if it is just 25 hours a week, has helped a lot too.

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04/04/03 -Almost a year later

I'm in such a different place than a year ago. I'm long-resigned to not hiking this year. That's even weird; that my life has shifted that much that NOT hiking in the summer feels like a cut through my heart, even after one hiking season.

I remain focused on saving for the CDT in 2004. I think the CDT will be less of a shock to my system. I've gone through the excitement, panic, and bewilderment of prepping for a thru-hike. I've done the deed itself. I've survived the months after, which were filled with loss of face-to-face time with new friends, significant decrease in exercise, and the death or retirement of a dream and goal.

A friend from the PCT is re-hiking the trail this year. I told her that for me it would be running away to hike it again. Today, I don't know what I meant by that. She's doing it for personal reasons. Do I have a belief that life has to be hard, and that I can't have as many rewards as I want? Is that childish? Argh.

At the same time, I'm not depriving myself now so that I can hike the CDT. I go out to dinner. I buy organic food. I got a new laptop.

I am seeing how, in many ways, the CDT will be cheaper: I already have hiking poles, digital camera, pack, etc. I need to replace some threadbare backpacking clothes, stock up on shoes, buy a lot of expensive maps and guidebooks, and, of course, get my food together. I can do the food for less this time, that much is certain.

It seems there are also fewer opportunities to spend money in town on the CDT. I know I'll be wanting a real bed and a hot shower, but I learned that that doesn't always have to be in a hotel.

I'm headed to the ADZPCTKO in a few weeks. I'm sure I'll have more to write after that. Yogi will be there. Gottago will be there. So will be a bunch of others from Class of 2002.

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9/28/03 - A Year after Finishing

I wasn't really thinking about my one-year anniversary of finishing until someone mentioned theirs online.

Then I got to thinking about the last days in Washington. They were so powerful visually. The landscape was amazing.

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In case you've missed it, I've created a Catchup with Cupcake page. This has links to other journal pages, like when I hiked the Sierra in 2003 with Yogi and Gottago.