CDT Day 60 (7/17/23)

Miles 1455.7 (Red line 1672.7)- 1490.9 (Red line 1707.9) (35.2 miles)

Verbatim

Two months on trail today. How bout that! I’m nine miles short of a twenty-five mile average. Nice.

There are so many mosquitos surrounding my cowboy camp it’s insane. Insane that they can be so prevalent even in drier areas. The closest water is like a mile away. How did they not all shrivel up in the sun today? It was really hot… 94 degrees a BLM worker said, and not an inch of shade.

Today was a day of extremes it seems. It was cloudy and smooth this morning. Beautiful even, as the light rose upon the rocks formations which rise like ribs from the dirt hills. There was the noise of two herds of sheep grazing. They speckled the hill side across from me in great numbers. They’re much more interesting than cows at this point. And, I wonder if there was a sheep dog!

As noon came about, however, the clouds broke into a scorching westerly wind. Walking into the wind was horribly taxing, and the sun was unrelenting. I had to lay down on the hot road at several points during the fourteen miles between the spring and the Sweetwater river. The end of the basin is so tantalizingly close, yet it could not be reached. It was the sort of weather you could die in. My stomach also started feeling unwell. I wonder if this is related to the extreme conditions.

I eventually made it to the river where I laid amidst the sage bushes crowding the CDT kiosk sign. The hordes of bugs which issued from the grasses when I laid down my ground sheet was terrifying. However, the wind blew so strongly that it kept them down. Mostly. I laid there in the shade, holding my gut.

Eventually Toledo (TOLEDO!) arrived and then a Tour Divide rider named Matt from NH came along too. I really enjoyed talking with them and even showed them my plastic! They were quite positive, although continued the refrain of “you know you can just mail that home right?”. Toledo also asked, “What happens when it gets too much?”

I was also given bear spray by Matt!

Post Note

Ah man. Day 60 sucked. I can remember feeling so horrible walking in the sun that I actually laid down in the sun. For like twenty minutes! I stopped making progress towards what would save me because it was just that bad. I think these experiences are part of why thruhikers, or anyone really, gets out to go on their adventures. It’s a humbling moment when you don’t really care if your current action brings you closer to death because you just don’t want it anymore. I wasn’t about to die. Honest. I can remember, before deciding to lay down, questioning if my laying down was actually dangerous. I decided, with what I perceived at the time to be and what I would still maintain actually was, a clear head that no I was not dangerously close to exposure. I was just really tired and pretty sick of it all. I laid down on the side of a dirt road and just stared at the dirt. I shrunk into the ground to escape the sun (Remember we learned heaven is in the ground!?). Eventually I picked myself back up and kept walking. If a car, or Toledo, had come up behind me they would have been seriously worried. hahaha

I’d met Toledo that morning while walking. He kept up my aggressive 3mph+ pace for thirty minutes or so before slacking off. He was super pleasant to talk to. I definitely thought he was younger than he was. Toledo is from Toledo (Wherever that is. I can’t remember) and is a parks and rec manager for the city. Did you know that Toledo has the best public parks in the whole country?! I didn’t. But now we both do! Toledo told me that. :) Toledo was changed by the trail. He might not have known it while on trail, although he probably does by now, but he was changed. He showed me a picture of himself from back during his day job life and I couldn’t recognize him. I think Toledo is a real mover and shaker. If he’s used to thinking about public spaces in cities just think of the positive change he could catalyze regarding public use of private spaces in rural America. You’re the man Toledo! Whatever you do, I believe in you. Toledo’s public parks will never be the same.

Toledo and Matt kind of annoyed me when they repeated the refrain I’d heard from just about everyone I’d talked to about my carrying my plastic, “You know you can just mail it home right? Count it at the end?”. Yes I damn well know I can mail it home. What do you think I think about all day while I’m carrying all this extra weight from Mexico to Canada? I felt so frustrated by my inability to communicate the task at hand. I’m carrying it. Because it’s not about how much I use, it’s about the experience of being burdened by my consumption. It was the same sort of frustrated misunderstanding I felt when L gifted me biodegradable plastic bags to use for my resupplies before the trip. No. I’m not trying to not use plastic. We all use plastic. Until we completely stop using plastic we’re going to still be using plastic. The point is not to avoid plastic. The point is to realize and experience the fact that I’m still in relationship with the plastic I’ve used even after I’m done using it. The point is to let the plastic reprimand me. Discipline me. Make me resent how I’ve chosen to poison myself and everyone around me for my ease of use.

And then Toledo was onto it. G-d bless you Toledo. He asked, “what happens when it gets to much?”. EXACTLY (aw man I’m hear editing and monitoring in January and I just started to cry). I don’t know what happens Toledo. I’m trying to find out. Maybe it gets too much and then I quit. Or maybe then my pack breaks from the weight and I have to buy a new pack and then stuff my plastic and my old pack in the new pack because my old pack was also made from plastic. Maybe then I have chronic shoulder pain and walk the rest of my life with this blessed awareness. Maybe then we all die of cancer at 50 because even the water we drink is filled with little micro plastics. Maybe all the fish die at 50 from cancer too and then all the humans living on the coast start to starve. Maybe aliens visit the earth after we and the fish are all dead at 50 from cancer and starvation and say, “What the hell is all this plastic about? And where are all the fish?”.

We don’t know what’s going to happen when it gets too damn much. But we’re all going to find out. Maybe our great-grandkids will find out instead. I don’t know. Maybe great great great grandkids. But we’re pretty good at science now (if only we’d be just as good as listening to it) and so even if we don’t find out directly we can pretty much imagine it. We’re responsible. And if we’re actually responsible maybe we won’t find out. That’s the hope at least. And then all the haters can say “see I told you so”. But we’ll know. Our prize will be the cynical smirk deep down inside. The voice that knows we blessed ourselves because we lived different anyways. Took responsibility anyways. Lived our lives doing our best to bless the world which gives so much gift.

Ride your bike. That’s a good place to start. And it’s fun. You’ll get strong and powerful and good at it. Yes it’s hard at first. It’s just like anything else.