Sunday, May 31, 2015

Abandoned Roads, Part IV

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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