CDT Day 9 (5/27/23)

Miles 198.8 (Pink line mile 29.5)- 226.9 (Pine line mile 57.6) (28.1 miles)

Verbatim

A 28.1 mile day! I’m in the Gila! Alright.

The day started out really wonderfully with the faint smell of fire/smoke from some fire in the area. The fire made for a really pleasant cloud covering which kept the sun off most of the way. It was ten joyful and flowy miles into Doc Campbells where I resupplied, ate ice cream and burritos, chatted with locals, and FaceTimed with Tim and Chris. I felt a little sad about L while with Wifi at Docs. I think/hope she was with our friends today. I wanted to call — anyways, because it’s a weekend. Maybe I’ll get the privilege of doing that tomorrow. Or the next day.

I talked with a lot of people today! At the hot springs I met Fixie! She’s a 42-year-old mom of a 4-year-old who is back home. She’s also a philosophy professor. She can only take a few weeks off. She’s aiming to make it from Crazy Cook to Grants! It was fun talking to her today. Still, no bonafide thru-hikers though. Dang.

Post Note

Thruhikers are often asked: what’s the hardest part of trail?

It’s the relationships you care about. It’s not the pack weight, nor the climb, nor the thirst, nor the blister, nor the (irrational) fear of animals. It’s the feeling of loneliness and disconnection you feel from everyone whom you left behind back at home and the desperation you feel about forging new relationships with people on trail who “get it.” No one back home gets it anymore. People asked me after the PCT to tell them a story. I’d say something like, “Well. One time I saw a squirrel.” I’d get quizzical looks in response or a reply like, “No, tell me a good story!” Dude. That is a good story. And it was short and right to the point too. When was the last time you looked at a squirrel? Huh? I mean really looked. Or maybe not really looked. Maybe just squirrel.

If you’d thruhiked you’d know that as soon as I told you the story, “I saw a squirrel,” I’d told you about the time I saw a squirrel chasing another squirrel and then thought about sexuality and love and how my body, mind, and soul are so confusing when I’ve been alone on trail for two weeks without any sort of relational experiences. When I say squirrel I just told you about all the times a red squirrel’s incessant chattering woke me up at 6:15 a.m. telling me to “Get up and get out!” or, maybe in a more positive frame, “Crush miles bro!” Are squirrels cranky old men or are they cheer leaders? What do you think?

It’s obviously ridiculous for me to imply that another thruhiker could read these stories from my mind with the simple prompting of “squirrel.” That’s not the point. The point is that a thruhiker understands the sort of story which reads, “Well. One time I saw a squirrel.” They understand the gravity of walking for 13 hours a day in your own personal mental prison only to be released and set free by the simple scampering of a squirrel doing whatever the squirrel does.

People back home don’t get it. Or maybe you feel like you do. It doesn’t feel like that to me. Go hiking and find out if you got it. And people back home are so concerned with their people back home stuff. I try to be concerned with it, and maybe I am because FOMO. But, I have to walk 14 more miles today. Do you understand what that means?