GDT: Why?

Mt. Assiniboine

This blog post may also be found on thetrek.co

 Why am I hiking?

That is a great question. Does there have to be a reason? Can it not be said that I am doing it for the joy of the experience? Or perhaps there is a deeper reason for challenging myself to two months of hiking, in addition to the four months of preparation prior to setting that first step on the trail. 

I first learned of thru-hiking in 9th grade, a freshman in high school, unwisely using class time to fumble and stumble across the internet. “The PCT? What’s that?” I clicked. Shortly thereafter, I learned that one could WALK from Mexico to Canada on a trail. In fact a local portion of the PCT encompassed all of a trail I had hiked…whoa. It was so close to home, yet incomprehensible that such a hike could be done. What about food and water? Bears? Strangers? I left it at that. Still amazed that such a trail existed, I never fully excused the thought of hiking it, adding it to my life-time bucket list. 

Flipping several chapters ahead in my life, I haven’t altogether ditched the thought of hiking the PCT, but have replaced it (perhaps?) with another thru-hike. Now that I am a resident of Canada, similarities of now and my 9th grade self shine through. I am still living on the Columbia River, mountains, trees and wildlife are ever present. Not too far from my backdoor, another thru-hike resides, the Great Divide Trail. Is it an opportunity to seize what I had not in the past?

Hiking this trail, the GDT, has several layers of meaning for me. On the surface, it is purely for the enjoyment of such an undertaking, to live the boyhood dream of tramping through the woods, crossing swollen rivers, exploring glaciated valleys, and cresting mountain passes in weather less-than-fare. In other ways, it is a challenge, a challenge of both body and mind. To be able to reinforce and build confidence, push on when quitting seems all too easy and to feed a desire for adventure. It is also an opportunity for me to develop an intimate relationship with the natural world that encompasses my home, to be able to interact, and live within, the seasonality of the Canadian Rockies, to see flowers bloom and to see them fade, to live by the sun and sleep by the stars. 

In another sense this hike is a metaphor on my life journey, the GDT starts at the US border, from where I am a citizen, and travels north, just as I have done with my life. I want this to be an opportunity to connect with my new home, a rugged unforgiving landscape that rivals all natural beauty. I want it to be the most challenging and rewarding undertaking to date. I want it to help me connect with myself and help point me in a direction. I hope that completing the GDT may feel like the final transition from South to North, that it may also open doors that I never knew existed, never dreamed of…but I won’t know that until mid-August when my hungered, stinking self steps foot on the pavement, sticks up a thumb and hitches home. 

June, June is the Month.

June first, is it truly summer? Gray clouds congregate at the north end of the Columbia Valley, perhaps a thunderstorm will rumble through town. It has been an awfully dry and cold spring. The snow line hangs around 1500 meters, a frightening thought when considering that it is within this very month that we will be spending most of my time at, or above, the stated elevation. There are now 25 days until setting the first step on the Great Divide Trail. 

I can feel the timeline shrinking away. Feelings of doubt, anxiety and worry crop up like spring gardens. Did we pack all of our food? What are we forgetting?...the list goes on. These negative feelings are not the lone residents of my chest cavity, they are joined by joy, excitement, and a new energy I am yet to fully describe. It is the first time in my life where I have a day to day schedule penned-out for the 77 days ahead. Crazy. 

I know that the days ahead will pass by like that of the days behind. We were once nervous and filled with worries on Permit Day in January…and February, but we successfully secured our permits. We were once nervous about our gear and how the first time we packed it, it did not fit into our packs. We can now close our packs with a comfortable sub-20lbs base weight. In 77 days' time, on the side of highway 16, we can reflect on the feelings of today, like we can for all the other days our guts were filled with uncertain feelings and smile. 

Realization of the Finite

Comfortably roosted in the corner chair, draped with a plush blanket, I read and enjoy my morning cup of coffee. The pages turn at no specified intervals. I interpret text on the page the way I perceive it, perhaps completely different than you. I’m content with the moment and my mind drifts.

“How many moments like this will I enjoy?”

The torrent of thoughts interrupts my reading. I follow along, my mind turns and churns, thoughts pushing up like spring Tulips. Beautiful and brief.

“How many books will I be able to read during my life?”

Existential.

As an adult at 28 years of age, I can comfortably say that I know what I like, I’ve been able to understand myself and my values. I know that I like to read. I discovered, for myself, that there are other worlds and depths of knowledge between the covers. I can confidently say that 20 books a year would be a comfortably achievable average for my reading.

I can also say that I am more than likely one third of the way through my life.

Assuming I am one third of the way along to our collective destinations, I have 60 years left to read….and live, of course. 1,200 books. The amount of books I have left to read. If you walk into any proper book store, there will be an excess of over 1,200 books.

Time for an exercise.

Close your eyes and picture one wall of a bookstore. That very may well be the amount of books you may ever get to read, all of the walls around you will forever be unknown, unopened. This is of course a metaphor, as you may not actually enjoy reading, but it certainly applies to something in your life.

60 years, may seem long, and it is, if you use a human-lifespan scale. On other scales, such as geologic, we are less than a blink. Think about 60 years ago, the ‘60’s! Leather vests, hippies, headbands, Hendrix, Woodstock, LSD, Race Riots, MLK.

60 years to me means 60 more: summers of a river's bliss, winters of freshly sheeted mountains, times to smell the first warm breeze of the year. The list goes on, but I try not to think about it too much.

To put this in perspective, I have another exercise for you. Stand up and find a place where you can walk a straight line for roughly 100’ or 30 meters and be able to see where you started. Take a deep breath before your first step, notice both feet on the ground, side by side, this represents the current moment. Begin to walk, taking note of each step, and how the weight of your body transitions to each foot, each year. Walk a total of (90 minus your age) steps. Turn around and reflect on where you came from. You can see where you started, it doesn’t look too far.

This is my realization, the Realization of the Finite. Life is short, it is limited and therefore all the more precious.

Go smell the roses, smile, give a hug, listen to the birds, feel the sun on your skin. Love.