#71 Hurricane Gap to Jones Meadow Day 27: ATMM 284.1 to ATMM 297.1
.....No, you don’t shy away from adversity in this place, you grit your teeth behind the fierce grin on your dirty face, and you gather strength and encouragement from it.
As expected, I did not sleep very well last night. It’s one of those first night on the trail things that I’ve grown accustomed to. Every other hiker in the world talks about how tired they are after hiking all day, especially the first day, and fall asleep quickly and stay asleep all night. The opposite is true for me. I’ve always needed a sleep aid, even before my life filled with so much trauma, no matter how far I hiked that day, even on day one.
The good news is my knees aren’t hurting. They were screaming at me last night, but they’ve calmed down and give me no more trouble on this trip.
Everyone leaves camp in their own time. As usual, the last one out of camp is me. I enjoy the taking the morning slow, coffee in solitude, maybe writing down a few thoughts in silence, then work through the usual morning stretches and light yoga routine that helps tremendously in keeping my body loose and ready for the day.
The morning has a dreary aura to it. The sky, which isn’t threatening of rain, is white with a little glow where the sun should be. The air, damp and thick, warmed by the moisture that sticks to your skin. I despise this evil called humidity.
I’ve yet to encounter the spirit of the trail on this journey. This grey morning would be a good time for it to emerge. No need to force it though. It’s still early in our hike. It will come to me eventually, in the right time—it always does.
Those who have been following the story all along know of this the spirit in which I speak.
This spirit, this fusing together between the hiker and the trail, which appears at just the right moment, is an almost meditative-like state that demonstrates—no, vindicates-the reasons for being out here. A type of baptism, an immersion into the realization that you are no longer in Kansas, that you’ve passed from the creature comforts and chaos of societal life into a life lived in discomfort and simplicity with the trail. When you no longer merely accept that you now walk, eat, sleep, listen to, drink from, breath in, feel, and live with nature, but you embrace it.
Nature is dirty, dangerous, painful, wet, and sometimes lonely, but the spirit causes you to find strength from adversity, as though adversity is your power source.
Hike strong through the hunger and thirst. Hike strong after a poor night’s sleep. Hike strong in unpleasant weather, “Bring on the damn rain!” you’ll proclaim loudly as you splash through the mud and over slippery rocks to complete another twenty-plus mile day.
No, you don’t shy away from adversity in this place, you grit your teeth behind the fierce grin on your dirty face, and you gather strength and encouragement from it.
It takes a few of days for the trail to wash away the grime of society and grind in it’s soul cleansing soil, but when it materializes we know it. We know we belong on the trail.