“In order to establish a proper relationship with pain, many traditions incorporate painful situations as part of spiritual training. On my first trip into Tibet, I traveled to a remote monastery high in the Himalayas. Because I was providing care for the monks, I was allowed to stay inside the monastery, which is usually forbidden. On my first morning I woke up before dawn to the sounds of young monks outside my room. I stepped outside to see the exposed courtyard lined with monks reciting and memorizing texts in the biting cold. The monks were bobbing back and forth furiously trying to stay warm. I was struck with this level of discipline, it seemed nearly abusive to me, so I asked one of the discipline masters pacing behind the monks about this degree of hardship. He replied, ‘Tough on the outside, soft on the inside.’ The discipline forged a resolve in these monks that would serve them as they grew into more demanding spiritual practices. The rigors of the path are always held in the context of tough love. It is rough on the ego but loving to the spirit.” – Andrew Holecek
People often ask me why in the world I would want to hike such long distances over such challenging terrain in such unforgiving weather. When I read the above it struck me as a more useful response than my usual shrug and reply of, “I dunno, I like intense experiences?” I’d like to think there has always been some wisdom in me that knew pushing myself to become increasingly strong would allow me to become increasingly gentle as well. Something I seem to value more and more these days.
Earlier this week I returned from my final prepatory hike before I embark on the Pacific Crest Trail on May 1. Returning from South America, I flew directly to Albany NY where my darling mother met me (laden with gear and supplies I had mailed to her) and we drove to Great Barrington MA to spend the night at an inn before I began hiking south towards NYC. After losing several games of mahjong to my ever sharp matriarch (and eating an entire tin homemade cookies) I set off on a cloudy and cool morning to test my will and my skill against nature and the trail.
Day 1
I’d love to tell you that the trail welcomed me with open arms, but it really felt more like a hip check off of a loading dock into a rain puddle. Turns out southern MA has a lot of exposed bedrock that in the infamous words of Bon Jovi becomes “slippery when wet.” 11 hours bought me 16 hard-earned miles and I stumbled into camp after dark to spread my sleeping bag in a lean-to and try to get warm. The upside was I did get to share said lean-to with a passive anti-society character from Virginia who proudly introduced himself by his trail name, “Liability.” He was quite a funny fellow though, and we did share a few laughs. A thing of no small value in the freezing dark woods.
Day 2 and 3
Day 2 began none the warmer and dawn revealed a layer of snow bound to make the morning hike at least beautiful, even if paid for with the cost of reduced traction and hidden trails. As it turned out however the snow didn’t last, and intermittent rain over these two days quickly cleared the trail. By late morning I was enjoying my third breakfast (first lunch?) in this serene and picturesque field.
Days 4-6
Day 4 dawned as beautiful as could be, with sunny clear skies and soaring temperatures that even dared to flirt with a high near 60 degrees. I can’t even begin to describe my appreciation since what I have so far failed to mention is that for the first three days of this hike I was freezing nearly all of the time and my feet had yet to dry out from the initial rain on day 1. Combined with the rigors of grinding out 11 hour days of exhausting hiking I was about ready to give up on hiking altogether and spend the rest of my days truly enjoying as much quality couch time as I could possibly arrange. Not to worry though, the weather improved and my body began to acclimate to the rigors of all day hiking before my waning resolve gave out altogether. Plus the incredibly kind folks in Connecticut saw fit to provide no shortage of what I call “Cadillac Trail” which is far more likely to inspire Henry David Thoreau poetry than the frequent parkour friendly Massachusetts rock passes also shown below.
All in all I ended up hiking 115 miles over the 6 days. Not bad for my first long distance outing. I was encouraged that despite some accumulated fatigue, day 6 was both my highest mileage and shortest hiking time as I covered 24 miles in 8.5 hours, including 4,800 feet of ascent and 4,700 feet of descent. Although this was in no small part aided by my all-day consumption of secret hiker fuel – a simple mixture of instant coffee and chocolate whey protein. Guaranteed to let you breeze through malevolent mountain miles with grace and ease (even if your hands do begin to shake some after a few hours).
I realized from this little outing that when it comes to attempting massive and seemingly insurmountable endeavors (like thru hiking 2,650 miles from Mexico to Canada) the key is to not pay much attention at all to the end goal, but instead focus on mastering the process. The deciding factor for my success will likely be whether I can acclimate to the challenges and discomforts of all day hiking before my resolve runs out. From my week on the Appalachian Trail I’m happy to say I think I can. Although as Robert Burns so aptly articulated, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Something I realized today as I booked tickets for a three week stay in Germany beginning well before the month of May reaches its conclusion. I have a strong suspicion however that both mice and men might find their circumstances grandly improved when said plans go awry. As somebody said to me recently, life should be like a dance – the objective is not just to get to the other side of the floor. More on this delightful turn of events another time perhaps…
Now for the Picture Bonanza!
