Eating Elephants

When you flip through the last pages of a book, finishing the literature that has preoccupied your time, what resonates with you? What do you take away from the reading? Is it a life lesson? Is it a long list of quotes that present themselve as a code of ethics? Is it intelligence? Is it something that moves you and soothes you in only a way that this specific book can do? How long do you hold on to the teachings that the book have presented to you?

I came out here on the trail hoping to create new chapters of my own story, in desperate search of something that no other book, professor, mentor, or role model could teach me. How I longed to be able to tell myself that I am CAPABLE, that I am GOOD, that I can make the most out of any situation I was placed in no matter what my disposition may appear to be externally. I found what I was in search for in the most extraordinary ways, captivating my every emotion, even the ones that are ugly and dark.

I must admit, for the better part of the last three months, I have loathed the madness that I got myself into. I felt angry at the weather of the world. A great respite for the terrain that has left me more fatigued than I’ve ever been in my life. A rumbling bowel from yet another ramen and tuna dinner. I marked myself a mute in the presence of company, not having the energy nor the motivation to meet anyone new. I felt blinded by the negativity that circled me, like a shark that taunts its prey after that fresh scent of blood spills out of its meal. I have learned in 6 months more than most people take their entire lives to learn, yet, I’m just as ignorant as anyone else who might go searching for the answers of the universe.

Despite my own gloomy reflections of the trail, I’ve consistently told myself to live in this “NOW”! I’m coming to the end of this book with my own personal memoir of all that I’ve endured. I began writing this with two town stops and 150 miles remaining between myself and the last few pages, also reserving myself a bunk both at the Sterling Inn of Caratunk and at Shaws Hostel of Monson.

Before crossing the Kennebec river via ferry, I went into a piece of land owned by a man named Tim Harrison, hearing about how he cooked 12 pancakes for hikers in the morning so long as you request the breakfast in person the evening before. I met the man, shook his hand, complimented him about his beautiful home and all that he manages. He leads a simple life of servitude with cabins that make up his property, renting them out to hikers and other folk that might entertain a day hike or a day out fishing. I inquired about a place to pitch my tent that was close by in which he directed me to a small soft patch of ground where I set up camp and awaited the anticipated delicious breakfast. The next morning I awoke and went back across his homemade bridge to enjoy a nice breakfast with several other hikers. Tim had coffee and hot water for tea set up on a table as the aroma of blueberry, raspberry, and apple infused pancakes filled the room. He set the plates out for us, already stacked with pancakes and we devoured the meal. While we ate, Tim turned on his keyboard and began to play a piece of music that he wrote by the wit of his own mind. The moment felt incredibly pure spurred on by an ethereal melody. I felt as though we were listening to a swan song of all that we had gone through. All the trials and tribulations, all the tears and the moments of wanting to give up, the desperate longing for home and friends and family. It’s rained a total of 4 times since I’ve been in Maine, including on that day, however, I wasn’t upset with the rain drops, feeling incredibly grateful to be where I was.

As I stumble along on the trail, gazing through the thin pine branches with their remaining green needles, my eyes become blinded by a sudden flash. The reflection of the sun gleeming off the Piscataquis River flowing to my east. The view is barely visible until I recover a step and as I regain my bearings the reflection of the river begins to resemble the cutout of a key. I begin to notice things. The scent that I’ve overlooked for the past three months recovers, filling my nostrils with a sappy oasis. Through the curtain shade of branches and needles I notice a maple tree that has begun to feel the cold of winter fast approaching. Her leaves red as a fire truck!

One of the most common statements out here on trail, “ hike your own hike!”, can also be one of the most annoying notions. However annoying though, sooner or later it seems like we all move about the day with regard as to only we can conjure up. I would have no words of advice for anyone who might come out here to test their luck on a thru-hike, there are times where I’m baffled at the strange luck that appears in myself. I’m puzzled in a preposterous sense as to what’s going on around me most days, knowing that there truly isn’t a right or wrong way to do this thing. You just have to do it.

People talk about leaving their ego at the door, shutting out the vanity that selfishly discards them from the rest of the world. As modest a person I attempt to be on a daily basis, my ego tested everyday out here, I needed it to spark an everlasting flame in my soul. Not to be cocky when talking about this whole ordeal but to be able to beat my chest when I got through something difficult knowing damn well it wouldn’t be the last encounter of hardship. My own personalized vanity slips through the cracks, how couldn’t it after nearly 2,100 miles of walking and the soul engine being my body itself.

I have changed. I am not the same man I was when we packed up my sisters Subaru at midnight 6 months ago to set out across the country. Today I enter the 100 mile wilderness and from the outside looking in, like most obstacles on trail, it feels daunting. Even now with 120 miles left there is a sense that anything could happen. The feeling twists and jabs like a knife at my guts, feeling nauseous of what the end may hold. What an adventure, what a life, and there is still much more of it to present itself to me. I’m ready. Ready to feel the love of family, ready to see my friends and my two favorite dogs. Ready to meet the newborn baby that my sister will be delivering very soon. Here’s to the end of a fantastic adventure with an epic finale that may suit it.