[at-l] Longing

[shane@theplacewithnoname.com (Shane Steinkamp)]

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

William Butler Yeats, "The Stolen Child"

> I, as most of you know, have not hiked a mile on the AT, yet
> have an immense desire to do so.  This desire is more
> profound during "AT hiking season" as I
> follow countless journals of thruhikers.

That's step one...

> As much as I love my life, and as little as I know about the
> AT, I BELONG OUT THERE.

That's step two...

> This is a question for myself, and other future
> thruhikers... How in the
> world do you just let go of everyday and future
> responsibilities and DO IT?
> How in the world do you justify it?

And there's where most people stop.

I've actually been thinking a lot about this subject lately.  I'm married
and have a 15 month old daughter.  It isn't fair for me to check out of my
life for six months and go hiking.  Fortunately, I've already done enough
long distance hiking for a lifetime, and I can wait a few years to do some
more.

I feel like saying something about life philosophies, and I have that
strange feeling like I get when I wax romantic and ramble on for awhile, so
feel free to hit DELETE now...

After high school, I wanted to go wandering.  I had a strange and
uncontrollable wanderlust.  The problem with this desire was that I had
received a full scholarship to the state's best university.  Everyone had
great expectations, and there was a lot of pressure on me to do the
'responsible' thing.  I copped out and went hiking.  For years.  I have
never been sorry.

How did I come to this decision?  I have often thought about it, and the
only answer is this: I listened to old people.  Old people tend to have a
lot of time on their hands, and are perfectly willing to tell you how to
live your life.  The trick is getting them talking about what they wish they
had done differently, instead of what you should be doing.  It's important
to note that what they tell you to do, and what they wish they had done, are
often two different things.  (Any old people want to back me up on this?)
There are a few common answers.  "I wouldn't have gotten married so young."
"I would have waited to have my children."  "I would have traveled more."
"I wish I had..."  The list goes on.  I also had a few role models of
outdoorsy type people who drank too much, smoked too much, slept outdoors
too much, and generally had the time of their lives.  Of course, they had
regrets too, like, "I wish I had finally settled down, but it's too late for
me now..."

All this received wisdom was not wasted on me, and I had a lot of things
going for me.  My parents, for one thing - I always had a place to come home
to.  My jobs for another - I found employers that were willing to let me
come and go.  Of course, it helped that I was good at what I did.

I wandered.  I was a hobo.  I had fantastic fun.  I had moments of mental,
spiritual, emotional, and physical clarity that most people don't even know
are possible.  I danced in the rain, rolled in rivers, slept with trees, and
had a long love affair with the night.  I still do, and at times I still
keep my trysts, wandering at all hours of the night, singing to the stars
and whispering with the wind.  My wife is used to this, but generally
expects me back in the morning.  If not in the morning, then no later than
noon...

Of course, this life was not all fun and games.  There were many dangers.
Cold nights, endless rain, hunger, merciless terrain, pain, sweltering heat,
bugs, thirst, thorny plants, wild beasts, exposure to many elements, and
thousands of other things that threatened life, limb, and sometimes sanity.
Even so, all the while, I was filled with a strange and pure joy.

Sometimes I would get into real trouble.  Sometimes I drank water that was
very ugly.  Sometimes I had to beg.  Sometimes I ate out of garbage cans.
Sometimes I thought I would freeze to death, and twice I almost did.  Even
so, all the while, I was filled with a profound sense of thanks.

There were other things that I 'missed out' on as well.  I never had a
girlfriend.  Until I got married, I had been on seven 'dates' in my entire
life.  I didn't attend wild parties.  I couldn't keep up with television
shows.  I didn't know much about current events...

People asked endless questions at first, but then got used to the idea that
I was 'wasting my life', and quit bothering me.  My grandfather did little
but watch television, drink, and make occasional trips to the casino for the
last 15 years of his life - but I was wasting MINE...  He's dead now, but I
often longed to take him with me.  What sights I could have shown him!
"What!?  Go get eaten by bugs!?  Are you crazy!?"  "Yes, sir, crazy as a
loon..."  I never understood why loons got such a bad rap.

Of course, eventually I turned 30, which was sort of a turning point in my
life.  My family needed me at home, because my mother's health was failing.
I settled down, got a real job, got married when I was 31 to a lady I had
known for 14 years, and we had a child - all before it was 'too late for
me'.

Last weekend, as I lay snuggled in bed with my daughter until she went
night-night, I was filled with a strange and pure joy, and a profound sense
of thanks.  I have done my wandering, and now I am doing my settling.
Eventually this too shall pass, and I will wander again, but for now I am
satisfied and I have no regrets.

Which brings me back to Kelly's questions:

> How in the world do you just let go of everyday and future
> responsibilities and DO IT?

That's just it...  FUTURE responsibilities are in the FUTURE.  Wandering is
a wonderfully selfish thing to do.  If you haven't complicated your life,
you can usually find some place to stash your stuff and just go.  This is an
important thought for those people just coming out of high school or
college.  NOW is the perfect time to go.  Once you have a job, a spouse, a
child, a mortgage, and a myriad of other 'responsibilities' in the 'real
world', it will be too late for you to go wandering.  Not because you can't,
but because it's not FAIR to the people who have come to rely on you to
perform your duties as an employee, spouse, father, mother, etc.

Of course, once you have lashed yourself to the mast of the ship of society,
you aren't trapped forever.  Weekend hikes, section hikes, and fantastic
family vacations can all be yours.  Eventually, your children will grow,
your mortgage will be paid, and you will retire.

Essentially, when you are young, you are free.  When you are old, you are
free.  In the middle, you sell yourself into some kind of indentured
servitude as a metaphorical prostitute to banks, employers, insurance
companies, and Corporate America.  I happen to be smack in the middle of my
'responsible' period, and I'm here to tell you that it can really suck.  Of
course, there are rewards, but a 30 year mortgage is as close to legalized
theft as I can imagine...

In any case, I will eventually pay the thing off, and retire.  Then I'll
probably sell the house and buy an RV, before it's too late and I wind up
spending the last 15 years of my life drinking in front of a television
set...

> How in the world do you justify it?

How in the world can YOU justify NOT doing it?  How can you possibly damn
yourself to a life of wishing that you had followed your dream?  How could
you dismiss something that is so important to you, instead of reaching out
for it?  Would you NOT go because YOU DON'T want to go, or because other
people or things are putting pressure on you to do 'the right thing'?  Are
you that afraid?

Answer this:  Let's say that you DON'T go, and ten years from now, tied down
by family, a job, a mortgage, two dogs, a cat, three goldfish, an African
Violet that will die if you don't water it twice a week, and high insurance
premiums, that we are having tea in a cafe in Paris.  (Well, haven't you
always wanted to go to Paris?)  What do you think you would give to come
back HERE, NOW, and make different choices?  Are you SO sure that you won't
resent the fact that your dog is off cheating with that bitch, your husband
chokes up hair balls all over the house, and your cat doesn't make enough
money?  Are you going to say, "DAMN!  I wish I had gone hiking instead of
selling my soul to the bank and paying $200,000 at high interest for 30
years."?

Of course, maybe you DID go, and ten years from now, tied down by family, a
job, a mortgage, two dogs, a cat, three goldfish, an African Violet that
will die if you don't water it twice a week, and high insurance premiums, we
are having tea in a cafe in Paris.  What then?  Do you think you'd be
willing to come back HERE, NOW and NOT go?  Are you now pretty Zen about the
fact that your dog doesn't make enough money, your husband chokes up
hairballs all over the house, and the cat just shredded your tarp for the
third time, because you've been out on the trail and gotten your mind right?
Are you going to say, "Yeah, It'll take twenty more years to pay off the
mortgage, but after that my husband and I are hiking the AT, PTC, CDT, and
sailing around the world AGAIN...."?

The bottom line for the wanna-be's is this:  If you have made your bed, you
have to lay in it.  Long distance hiking may be something you have to wait
until retirement to do.  BUT, all you 'young' people, if you haven't made
that bed yet, be very careful to select one with a water-proof canopy and
ample bug-netting.  Remember that it's better to regret something you have
done, than to regret something you haven't done.

I might also add this quote by Mr. Roosevelt:

"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is
marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and
comes short
again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great
devotions and spends himself in a worthy course; who at the best, knows in
the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at
least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with
those cold and
timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."

Perhaps Khalil Gibran is appropriate as well, "Forget not that the earth
delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."

For further inspiration, the archives are an excellent source.

I think that if for the next thousand years you stood on a mountain in Maine
that has a name I forget how to spell, but starts with a K, and asked
everyone who walks up from Georgia just to touch an old wooden sign if they
were sorry that they had hiked such a long way just to stand up here and
commune with a stupid sign for a few minutes, that nobody would ever be
sorry that they had done so.  I just can't imagine anyone saying, "I should
have stayed home and watched Oprah."  On the other hand, I know lots of
people with jobs, wives, husbands, and mortgages that desperately desire to
take that walk.

The dreams that thrive are the ones we feed.

No matter what happens, keep dancing.

Make a wish.

Take a chance.

Dream.

Live.

GO!

Shane

P.S. No matter what you decide, we can still meet in Paris in ten years.
If, after reading all this long, rambling, melodramatic soliloquy you DON'T
go; please know that I do NOT want to hear your bitching while I'M trying to
enjoy my tea.