I settled down on a rock for what was a planned ten minute break. It was over an hour later that I finally stood and put on my pack once again. In that hour of time something had happened inside of me that I can't really explain with words.
September 4, 2013
As tired as I was after my first day back on the trail, sleep did not come with the night. The mice were running in the shelter all night long. It was too warm inside my sleeping bag and too cold without it. My body seemed to have forgotten the art of sleeping on my shortened, Thermarest sleeping pad, and my bladder kept making sure that I regularly got up to count the stars. Morning finally arrived, and I began pulling all the pieces together so that they would fit like clockwork into my pack. By 7:00 am, I was heading north once again.
At this point in the hike my pack weight has dropped well below 30 pounds. I started in April with a pack weight of 33 pounds including 5 days of food and a days worth of water. As the weather warmed, I sent a number of items home or gave them away. I quickly learned only to carry what was really needed, and cast out all but the essential. A few items have been added in as well. (Sometimes it is important to go ahead and pack your yoyo for that quiet moment when you miss home) With all the additions and subtractions, my pack has ended up with a full weight of about 28 pounds. The lost 5 pounds makes a big difference when carrying your pack up and down mountains day after day.
I was entering a section of the trail that has been given the name, The Roller Coaster. The trail guide describes it as 13.5 miles of tightly concentrated assents and descents. On the altitude guide it looks like a sine wave snaking across the page. Last night I read some of the comments that other hikers had written in the shelter journal about their ride on "the coaster." Some found it difficult. Others were exhilarated by the challenge. A recent hiker who had crossed it during the days of extreme heat and humidity called it "a ride through hell." In reality, it was no worse than places I had hiked through before, yet certainly much harder than I would have liked for my second day back on the trail.
At the southern point of the section, the local trail club has put up a sign. I forget the exact wording, but it basically says, "Welcome to the Roller Coaster! This section is brought to you by the Trail Boss and his crew. I'll see you at the other end... If you make it!" A few steps later the trail begins to crank up the first hill.
The weather is perfect for being outdoors. Unlike the heat and humidity of earlier this summer, the temperature is moderate and the humidity low, with gentle breezes blowing regularly through the dense woods.
The roller coaster consists of long sections of rocky trails and boulder climbs. The woods are dark from late season growth and it feels like dusk at mid day. My heart test for the day took place as I was coming down a section of large rocks. A tree had fallen over the trail and its branches and dead leaves were still spread out across the route. I was concentrating on stepping over the fallen tree, while also not getting entangled in the branches or slipping on the downhill grade. Something caused me to suddenly stop with my foot in mid air. Inches below my shoe was a large copperhead snake. I backed up, stopped shaking, and rerouted myself in a new direction! I had no problem with yielding my rights to that little section of trail.
The high point of the day took place on one of the roller coaster peaks. I settled down on a rock for what was a planned ten minute break. It was over an hour later that I finally stood and put on my pack once again. In that hour of time something had happened inside of me that I can't really explain with words. The people, the places, and the experiences of the last months began to flash through my mind in a vivid clear way. The stillness and beauty of my mountaintop perch cast a deep peace down into my spirit. I felt a sense of rest inside that I have not known for the past several years. I also sensed a rising excitement about the days and years ahead that I had somehow lost in the past season of my life.
When I got up from that trail side rock and put on my pack it was with the strong awareness that my summer journey was complete. I am ready, even eager, to head home and dive into whatever awaits me there. It is hard to imagine that just a few weeks ago I was helped off the trail broken and feeling defeated. Today I feel a new strength within me, but not one of my own doing or one fueled by my own self confidence.
It is hard to put more into words right now. Maybe tomorrow I will try and write more and better explain what I feel is happening. Until then, all I can say is that I do believe that Phoenix is rising.
As tired as I was after my first day back on the trail, sleep did not come with the night. The mice were running in the shelter all night long. It was too warm inside my sleeping bag and too cold without it. My body seemed to have forgotten the art of sleeping on my shortened, Thermarest sleeping pad, and my bladder kept making sure that I regularly got up to count the stars. Morning finally arrived, and I began pulling all the pieces together so that they would fit like clockwork into my pack. By 7:00 am, I was heading north once again.
At this point in the hike my pack weight has dropped well below 30 pounds. I started in April with a pack weight of 33 pounds including 5 days of food and a days worth of water. As the weather warmed, I sent a number of items home or gave them away. I quickly learned only to carry what was really needed, and cast out all but the essential. A few items have been added in as well. (Sometimes it is important to go ahead and pack your yoyo for that quiet moment when you miss home) With all the additions and subtractions, my pack has ended up with a full weight of about 28 pounds. The lost 5 pounds makes a big difference when carrying your pack up and down mountains day after day.
I was entering a section of the trail that has been given the name, The Roller Coaster. The trail guide describes it as 13.5 miles of tightly concentrated assents and descents. On the altitude guide it looks like a sine wave snaking across the page. Last night I read some of the comments that other hikers had written in the shelter journal about their ride on "the coaster." Some found it difficult. Others were exhilarated by the challenge. A recent hiker who had crossed it during the days of extreme heat and humidity called it "a ride through hell." In reality, it was no worse than places I had hiked through before, yet certainly much harder than I would have liked for my second day back on the trail.
At the southern point of the section, the local trail club has put up a sign. I forget the exact wording, but it basically says, "Welcome to the Roller Coaster! This section is brought to you by the Trail Boss and his crew. I'll see you at the other end... If you make it!" A few steps later the trail begins to crank up the first hill.
The weather is perfect for being outdoors. Unlike the heat and humidity of earlier this summer, the temperature is moderate and the humidity low, with gentle breezes blowing regularly through the dense woods.
The roller coaster consists of long sections of rocky trails and boulder climbs. The woods are dark from late season growth and it feels like dusk at mid day. My heart test for the day took place as I was coming down a section of large rocks. A tree had fallen over the trail and its branches and dead leaves were still spread out across the route. I was concentrating on stepping over the fallen tree, while also not getting entangled in the branches or slipping on the downhill grade. Something caused me to suddenly stop with my foot in mid air. Inches below my shoe was a large copperhead snake. I backed up, stopped shaking, and rerouted myself in a new direction! I had no problem with yielding my rights to that little section of trail.
The high point of the day took place on one of the roller coaster peaks. I settled down on a rock for what was a planned ten minute break. It was over an hour later that I finally stood and put on my pack once again. In that hour of time something had happened inside of me that I can't really explain with words. The people, the places, and the experiences of the last months began to flash through my mind in a vivid clear way. The stillness and beauty of my mountaintop perch cast a deep peace down into my spirit. I felt a sense of rest inside that I have not known for the past several years. I also sensed a rising excitement about the days and years ahead that I had somehow lost in the past season of my life.
When I got up from that trail side rock and put on my pack it was with the strong awareness that my summer journey was complete. I am ready, even eager, to head home and dive into whatever awaits me there. It is hard to imagine that just a few weeks ago I was helped off the trail broken and feeling defeated. Today I feel a new strength within me, but not one of my own doing or one fueled by my own self confidence.
It is hard to put more into words right now. Maybe tomorrow I will try and write more and better explain what I feel is happening. Until then, all I can say is that I do believe that Phoenix is rising.
RSS Feed