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[at-l] Monday, March 20, 2000



Today, my sons and I did not start a throughhike of the Appalachian Trail.

Woke this morning at 02:34 am, just in time to welcome Spring. Outside my window, a strong wind moaned and whistled through the trees of the back yard — it was a haunting sound that instantly took me back to repeated mountain scenes where steady winds pushed heavily through tall trees. It could have been one of a hundred scenes anywhere from Georgia to Maine; it could have been from my very first night on the AT back in '79; it could have been from Roaring Fork Shelter in early September of '98, when the wind frightened my unflappable sons into looking around at the tall swaying trees with wide eyes. It was a powerfully lonesome wind; it was strangely unforecasted.

My first thought was "Welcome, Spring!" My second thought was that I should be listening to it from the top of Springer poised to lead — or better  *facilitate* — a throughhike of the AT by my family. Instead, all I got was to listen to the wind — not a taunt, not quite a wish, just a factual reminder —  that a dream hatched five years earlier, almost to the day, would not see fruition.

It was five years ago that it hit me like a thunderbolt that, after 15 years of relative inactivity in backpacking, and even with year old twins and an aggressive mortgage, one *could* arrange an AT throughhike without throwing all the accouterments of society and career to the wind. Careful planning could work around careers, mortgages, primary educations, pension accruals, car payments, volunteer activities, health concerns, ...a hike could be made possible. 

And so work started. First by simply *not* taking steps that restricted a six month absence — as simple as not replacing the family cat when he died, to timing the replacement of the family car to "March 2000" to avoid car payments, to postponing the search for a new job (or restricting growth of a home-based business) when the current "situation" suggested a new course — these steps lightened the domestic situation. And then by taking *positive* steps to bring about the dream — increasingly positive steps as time went on — the dream began to take shape. Each vacation took on new meaning, when seen in light of "2000". Each family trip involved more skills, more effort, more backpacking, less camping, *lots* of learning. Building step by step; all of the growth and effort being balanced between raw enjoyment and the push to learn new things. And over Labor Day, 1998, walking from Davenport Gap to Hot Springs, it was evident that we were ready — 1999 was to be a year to polish up and relax.

I wanted the throughhike to teach us what we're made of, to show what small, steady, and devoted efforts can do, to make concrete and real the idea that most of what we know as discomfort is in fact a passing thing, and that certain satisfactions and quiet accomplishments could serve a lifetime of use. What does climbing a mountain — one heavy step at a time, up past mind-numbing false summits, slipping in rain-soaked clinging mud, only to get into a face-soaking wind at the top — have to do with life in the greater scheme of things? Everything. To reach such a summit, whipping off your hood and yelling an oath at the top of your lungs into the teeth of the wind — that is to know an indomitable self-confidence that is yet tempered by the humility of the climb.

Helen Keller said "Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all." Thoreau said "Don't criticize them as build their castles in the air; rather, work then to build the foundations underneath them." The AT taught me the truth of these: that dreaming is vital to living, and discipline is vital to pulling it off. In 20 years, I've used those lessons ten thousand times.

Young minds are impressionable, and the AT throughhike was to be these parents' lifetime innoculant to children against all that is negative, fleeting, passive, temporary, unsubstantial and inconsequential in the greater society to which children are unavoidably exposed while outside parents' protective huddle. An AT throughhike, aside from all the lessons geological, historical, biological and sociological, would foremost instill the self-confidence to live an internally driven *principled* life, minimally affected by what's "cool" at the time. An AT throughhike could instill a durable faith in self, in family, and in God.

But no, we're not hiking. Life had other plans for us.

Still, for kids so young, they carry (so far) some great lessons for life. They respect themselves and others. They revel in ceremony, and yet they seem to prize doing new things, too — or in doing common things in unconventional ways. They welcome a challenge — they feel free to test themselves, and to say "Too much!" They feel free to say "I'm scared." *and* to trust others who say "Try this!" They wonder "What's down that trail?" and ask "Can we go that way next time?" They treasure small things, and don't seem swayed by every advertising scheme. They like Szechuan, and they like Ovaltine. I'm not ready to die yet, but what more could a father ask?

It is my fervent wish that those who are hiking this year do their very best to not squander the great gift to their lives which is an Appalachian Trail throughhike. To make the most of it is to, as Thoreau said, "suck the marrow from the bone of life." Whether you successfully walk from one end of the AT to the other, or whether circumstance besets you with trial after trial to derail your progress, or whether you feel your heart drained low in the relentless fury of boredom which lays in wait for hikers seeking a fantasy of unending backcountry pleasantries, and no matter what courses your hike may steer, *do* ensure that you make the most of each day you're out. Satisfy yourself that each of your days had a purpose — important and substantial no matter how seemingly small. *Make* each day special, and you'll be inoculating yourself for a lifetime against drift and doubt and desolation and boredom. Thoreau said "The majority of men live lives of quiet desperation." Well, "Carpe Diem." Seize it! Your life is NOW!


See the moon roll across the stars  — 
See the seasons turn like a heart — 
Your father's days are lost to you;
This is your time here, to do what you will do.

Your life is NOW!
Your life is now!
Your life is now!
In this undiscovered moment,
Lift your head up above the crowd.
We could shake this world,
If you would only show us how — 
Your life is Now!

Would you teach your children to tell the truth?
Would you take the high road, if you could choose?
Do you believe you're a victim of a great compromise?
'Cause I believe: you change your mind, you change our lives!

Your life is NOW!
Your life is now!
Your life is now!
In this undiscovered moment,
Lift your head up above the crowd.
We could shake this world,
If you would only show us how — 
Your life is Now!

Would you teach your children to tell the truth?
This is your time here, to do what you will do:
Your life is NOW!
Your life is now!
Your life is now!
In this undiscovered moment,
Lift your head up above the crowd!
We could shake this world,
If you would only show us how — 
Your life is Now!
Your life is Now!
Your life is Now!
Your life is Now!

Have just an extraordinary day,
Sloetoe'79


*And thanks to John Mellencamp for another great tune.
* From the AT-L |  Need help? http://www.backcountry.net/faq.html  *

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