This is recorded on the first page of my trail journal, and with this thought in my head I took the first steps of a 500 mile walk. Before leaving for the Colorado Trail I had no idea if I was actually going to take my hike. I had so much calling me to stay home that every day I considered just not going, even fantasized about being home that month instead of in the mountains. If you are a long distance hiker, or know of any, almost all will say that this is a terrible mind set if you have a goal to complete a trail.
I'm either too much of a chicken to have chickened out, or there is a very large drive inside me to chase the miles. On August 12th, my hiking soul-mate, Hiccup, and I walked the first 16 miles on the CT through Waterton Canyon. And it kinda sucked. Probably the most gentle trail we would encounter over the next 30 days and by our first break my hips were tightening, my arches burned through my feet, and the bones on my hips and shoulders were bruised from being squeezed by my pack straps, and we still had ten miles to hike before camp.
If you need time to think, walking eight hours a day is a good opportunity to do it. In those hours I realized that over the last months I had prepped resupplies, tested new gear, and gathered everything I would need with such a lack-luster that it was almost mechanical. Then I realized why. I had completely shut myself down from any excitement, because I was so torn on the decision to even come. That cap on my emotions transferred to the life and home I was so hesitant to leave. I had let myself miss feeling so many positive emotions of excitement, anxiety, adventure, and love, because I didn't know if I could split myself between here and there without also feeling nervousness, uncertainty, loss, and selfishness. I missed the good because I was afraid of the bad, and I didn't want to do the same during my time adventuring, even if my heart was more there than here this time.
All of a sudden I had a mission to prove that I COULD finish a thru hike, even if it wasn't the most important part of my life anymore.
Day 5 - "I am constantly reminded what a cleanse hiking is for me, sometimes not the easiest part of being out here."
The first time we climbed over 10,000 feet it was a tall, steep climb. We moved slowly, stopped often, and sucked a lot of air. Everyone says that eating well and drinking a ton of water will help while acclimating to the high elevations. Gatorade and Jolly Ranchers are life savers! But nothing changes the fact that there is less oxygen up there. When you employ the organs of respiration, especially strenuously and in high volume, you activate one of the body's powerful methods of detoxing. There is even belief that these same organs facilitate the emotional action of "letting go". Interesting things happen when you take a walk, your lungs get stronger and you breathe heavier, taking in more air and releasing more air. Your skin opens and also releases sweat and oils to balance your body temperature, which has kicked up with and increase in metabolism. Your whole body is focused on moving and so your mind begins to move on.
Sometimes the only way to move on is to step back to the build up of the past and release it one thing at a time. This hiking side-effect isn't always enjoyable, but one thing the trail more than accommodates for is the opportunity to dig deep and quietly experience your thoughts. This day I walked in a cloud of negative emotion and even though there were tears and screams one by one I sorted through what I needed let go and release what I didn't know was even still residing. With these steps I finally started to adjust to the weight I was carrying.
Day 10 - "Today I'm really missing home, and it got into my head enough to bring down my whole day."
Our bodies were tired and we were craving breakfast from a grill, not a shaker cup. And hot coffee, not instant mixed with cold water. So sometimes you walk 20 miles to camp close to a road to get a hitch early enough for breakfast in town. And after breakfast you stop at the hostel "just to see" if they have a bunk for tonight. And then you take four hitches to get to and from the trail and slack pack so you can get back to town in time for BBQ and beers. And a dry, warm bed to sleep in. And when you wake up in the morning you seriously consider going home.
Despite our "restful" day hike we woke up unmotivated. Chores and breakfast came and went and our mood changed from unmotivated to miserable. Hiccup received bad news and I had touched base back home and instead of feeling satisfied I was the most lonely and homesick I'd been. I'm still learning the meaning of "hike it out", I used to think it was the urge to cover emotional hurts with physical ones, or even just the distraction of movement, but I think now I'm getting closer to grasping that phrase.
We didn't so much hike this day as we shuffled along the trail. We spent hours sprawled on rocks and logs instead of hiking. Every short climb felt like miles, rocks jumped beneath our feet and roots reached out to grab and trip us. As we approached camp dark clouds rolled between mountain peaks and dropped cold rain.
Our whole day had been spent in the trees, the elevation wasn't high enough to reward our climbs with a vista. There was finally a very short stretch atop a ridge were the rain turned to mist and the trees had fallen away. We looked out across a range of mountains blued by the mist framed in rainbow stacked upon rainbow.
A mile later I soaked half my leg by stepping into an ice cold creek and walked the rest of the day with a soaked foot. I just "hiked it out".
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