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[at-l] why am I here?
I've been thinking about some of the posts lately about thruhikers
attitudes -- so I decided to add my two bits worth.
One of the hazards of long distance hiking is that the push for miles can
take over and you lose sight of why you are hiking. This can be a short
term situation, as when racing to get to a shelter before the thunderstorm
-- or the horde of hikers -- arrives and the day ends of up feeling like a
death march, or it can be the long term obsession with pushing for bigger
and bigger mileage days so that you race past views or swimming holes,
mumbling, "I don't have time to stop." Sometimes it is being with a group
of hikers that are racing along, bitching and moaning, so that everyone
around them ends up dissatisfied with the trail. With increased crowds, I
think this happens more and more. It is hard not to be affected by the
attitudes of those around you.
One reason I have enjoyed Outta Chocolate's journals is because they were
so obviously stopping to smell the roses and enjoy life on the trail. If
you don't, somewhere along the way you start wondering when the trail
stopped being fun, and why the only goals that seem to count are rest days
(pizza!) and finishing the trail, and you wonder what you're doing out
there, and you can't remember any more.
For some lucky people, before it's too late, there comes a moment of
ephiphany - or sometimes several moments - when you reconnect with yourself
and are vividly reminded of your reasons for doing a long distance hike.
You may be given a glimpse of what it takes to get back the excitement and
joy with which you started the trail. If not, it gets very hard to continue.
Last night on the phone Teresa spoke of how the ability to do bigger miles
as she got stronger, combined with a compatible group of thruhikers who
were used to doing 17 mile days, caused them to push a lot harder than they
had been. When Daniel's leg started hurting (after their first 20 mile
day) they were forced to slow down again and she realized that something in
their attitude had changed but they hadn't even realized it. Now they are
back to enjoying the trail and taking it easy again. Last fall, Solophile
spoke about reaching a point in her journey where she knew that if she
didn't drastically change her attitude, she wouldn't finish. It hadn't
been fun for a long while, and she didn't want to continue slogging
joylessly up the trail -- so she decided to relax, let go and enjoy the
trail. Her last weeks were a lot happier. A lot of people seem to do that
in Maine.
For me, there wasn't one moment of truth - but several. One day I was
fighting the trail - angry at the weather, the climbs, the erosion - it
took getting knocked flat (literally - I ran into a downed tree in a snow
storm) to force me to reassess my attitude. On other days I was struck for
a moment with the incredible beauty that surrounded me and I was able to
think, "Oh yes, this is why I am here." And holding on to those moments
kept me going when the going got tough. And still, I remember being asked
at Bear Mountain, "Why are you doing this?" And I couldn't answer, because
at that moment, I really didn't know.
The times that I have been lost while hiking (literally not figuratively)
there always comes a time when I am forced to sit down, clear my head of
all the frustration and anger, and start over again. That works for
thruhiking too - when you forget why you are out there, and the push to
finish the trail makes you lose your enjoyment in the hike, and your push
for miles gets in the way of being where you are -- the best thing to do
can be to let go and start over, with a radically different attitude.
So - for those who have done long distance hikes - what kept you going when
you lost touch with why you were there?
Ginny
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