I originally planned to hike
fifteen miles to the next shelter, but I want to go farther. After consulting my trail guide that tells me
about distances, campsites, and creeks, I push onward and vouch to camp near a
water source eight miles up the trail. I
had never camped on the trail by myself.
I prefer the shelters because the protection of the walls and the
company of hikers assuage my worries so that I can sleep peacefully. The idea of camping by myself is both
exciting and frightening. Without the
shelter, I will be more vulnerable to the creatures of the night. I read a sign on a tree that says black bears
are particularly active in this area, and this knowledge does little to comfort
me.
I walk nonstop for six hours. I eat two Snickers bars, two granola bars,
dried pineapples, dried mangos, slivers of dried coconut, salted cashews, and
fig newtons. I drink three liters of
water, but this is not enough. I pee
while walking, and my pee is dark yellow, so I drink more. I come to a stream and wash my face and hair
with my soaked bandana.
A pudgy old man
with a thick white beard approaches me from the opposite direction, and we
greet each other. This man looks
familiar. I know this man from
somewhere, but I cannot place him, so I stop thinking about him. The answer will come.
I consume miles like they are the
white dots in front of Pacman. I am just
like Pacman. I am obsessed with
progress, and I want to eat fresh fruit.
All the books I read to prepare myself for this hike mention food
dreams. I crave raspberries. I want to stuff a handful into my mouth and
suck on them and let the juices drip down my throat. Most of my food is dehydrated and preserved,
so my insides feel salty and dry. Raspberries
would satisfy my needs, but I do not have raspberries so I must learn to live
without them for now. When I get to the
nearest grocery store I will probably buy more than I need.
By seven o’clock I have not found
the creek, so I decide to stop on the mountaintop. I camp behind a large rock that looks like a
skateboard ramp. There is a fire pit and
a spectacular view of the blood-orange sun which will disappear in one hour. The mountain is steep, so I doubt I will have
trouble with bears here. Nonetheless, I
build a small fence around my campsite with fallen branches. A fire, too, will protect me.
I brush off a flat patch of ground
near the fire pit and the ramp-rock, and I clear away the stones and
twigs. I assemble my miniscule tent and
gather kindling. I fortify the pit with
heavy chunks of stone so the fire doesn’t spread to the surrounding forest. I throw my empty rice packets and candy bar
wrappers onto a pile of wood and douse the trash with alcohol and ignite the
mixture. I fill my cooking pot with
water, and I set the pot on a flat log near licking flames. I eat spoonfuls of peanut butter while
waiting for the water to boil.
When the water is bubbling, I dump
in the instant rice and stir with my Spork.
Camping equipment rarely produces satisfying meals, and tonight is no
different. The rice is cooked unevenly,
but I am too tired to care. I am sitting
on the ramp-rock and crunching the uncooked morsels while the rest of the slimy
concoction slides down my gullet.
When I am at home I often eat
dinner in front of the TV, but that is not an option here. I have my book with me, but I don’t feel like
reading so I take in my surroundings instead.
I can see the hills in the distance through a clearing between
trees.
The mountains are tinged with a blue
haze, and the sky is a fading crimson emanating from a burning orb. I feel tears course down my cheeks. The release is uncontrollable. Like a fever breaking, my body is repairing
itself so that it can be whole again.
This view should be enough for me, but there is something missing. I have walked on Hawaiian beaches and along
the Champs-Élysées and
through a jungle in Africa, and all the while I have been searching.
There is no one here with me on the
mountain. Devoid of all attachments
amidst this solitude, certain truths become evident. I am not concerned how far I will hike. I do not think of success or failure. I will go wherever I want to go.
I think of what makes me feel at
peace like a mountaintop sunset does. I
know the answer, and she is as beautiful as this moment.
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