Re: [at-l] purity and status

[Rick Bombaci <rpb@eoni.com>]

At 02:45 PM 2/12/00 -0500, Owen wrote:

>Why ARE you out on the trail?  
>
>Ginny
>

Day 1, 8/17/98, mile 13, from trailhead to ridge above South Platte River,
elev. 7200'

Dave drops me off; South Platte River; road walk

‘Now at Bear Creek, 8 miles in, and haven't seen a single person on the
trail.  I'm wondering "Why do I do this?"  And I don't really know.  I know
I will get lonely... but I think back to the Appalachian Trail in the fall
of ‘93 and remember moments of "Trail Magic"--watching the clouds slough
off Franconia Ridge; autumn at Grafton Notch; fording the Kennebec River in
the early morning with the cold mist rising; a mouse sitting out a storm
nestled on my socked feet...


Day 20, 9/5/98, mile 240, to Peel Point ridge, elev. 11900'

‘At 5:00 a.m., I rouse myself and howl in delight at the prospect.
Moonshadows grace the peaks, the moon is in the far west, sinking toward
the horizon.  I break camp by moonlight, chuckling the whole time.  The
moon turns yellow, then gold, then orange, as it sinks lower.  Finally,
flattened as if pressed by an inexorable hand of gravity against the far
hills, the moon breaks surface tension and slips below.'

‘Meanwhile, as I sit here, bundled, huffing on my chilly fingertips, like a
symphonic movement that arrives fast on the fading notes of the last, the
eastern sky is now red, and now orange, and now yellow, blending to the
merest hint of green, rising to pale blue, finally washing into deep
indigo.  Day is coming...

...Here I sit on yet another splendid evening ridgetop.  Tonight, the moon
rises just as the sun sets, like a pair of perfectly balanced
counterweights.  What a day!  How many times can I say that!  Over and over
and over, I can I can.  It is because I feel thankful for so much, so
often, when I am on the trail, that I do this.  I do this to exult in the
glory of Creation.  I do this to practice the habit of thankfulness.  Now,
250 miles into this hike, my question Why? is answered, and I find myself
at peace.'

‘Over my left shoulder, the full moon is now free of earth, touching no
ground, free to float, a perfect mottled pale yellow against a perfect dark
gray sky.  And overhead?  Naught but a depthless blue.  There is nothing
between me and heaven.  Thank you, thank you.'


Looks like it took me three weeks to remember why.
  
R.
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