It's been about three weeks since I returned from the west,
and I'm trying to settle into the routine here. It's not easy.
Even the simple semantics create a disconnect. When I began to speak of the differences in the life I lived while on the road and the life I live here, teaching and going about my daily business, I called this life, this domesticated existence, my "real life." But every time that phrase came out of my mouth, it felt wrong, untrue. The life on the road, the life of unexpected joy and surprise, the life of setting down and picking up my existence almost every day in a new and different and wonderful place, seems more like my real life than the one where I'm constrained by habit, ease, and familiarity.
So I refer to it as "this current life," and think of the life on the road as the real deal, as that's where I feel the most alive, that's where I see more clearly who I am and what life means to me, and that's where the passion to live fully, wholly, presently, lovingly, is most awake in me.
I've had a number of people ask me about Day 30 on the trip, and who have requested either that or an epilogue or something to bring closure to the travelog. I will do both here, as the story of Day 30 is brief, and the epilogue seemingly more fitting.
Day 30 began of course in Spearfish, at the same campsite that ended Day 1. I packed up that last morning, after having been greeted with some texts from those who missed me while I was gone, and left for the long drive across South Dakota.
It was amazing how quickly I fell back into the thinking, the patterns of this domestic life. I talked on the phone with people, texted people, and made plans for my arrival. The introspection was gone, as well as the simple immersion in my surroundings. My life at home came back as if it had never left, or rather I had never left it.
I met up with Anna in Sioux Falls, and we drove up to Brookings, SD, to join up with Emilie and Nick for dinner. We had a lovely time, catching up on each other's lives, and it was great to see and touch them again. After a nice afternoon with them, I drove home to meet up with a friend. We too caught up with each other and I began the reentry process in earnest.
Even the simple semantics create a disconnect. When I began to speak of the differences in the life I lived while on the road and the life I live here, teaching and going about my daily business, I called this life, this domesticated existence, my "real life." But every time that phrase came out of my mouth, it felt wrong, untrue. The life on the road, the life of unexpected joy and surprise, the life of setting down and picking up my existence almost every day in a new and different and wonderful place, seems more like my real life than the one where I'm constrained by habit, ease, and familiarity.
So I refer to it as "this current life," and think of the life on the road as the real deal, as that's where I feel the most alive, that's where I see more clearly who I am and what life means to me, and that's where the passion to live fully, wholly, presently, lovingly, is most awake in me.
I've had a number of people ask me about Day 30 on the trip, and who have requested either that or an epilogue or something to bring closure to the travelog. I will do both here, as the story of Day 30 is brief, and the epilogue seemingly more fitting.
Day 30 began of course in Spearfish, at the same campsite that ended Day 1. I packed up that last morning, after having been greeted with some texts from those who missed me while I was gone, and left for the long drive across South Dakota.
It was amazing how quickly I fell back into the thinking, the patterns of this domestic life. I talked on the phone with people, texted people, and made plans for my arrival. The introspection was gone, as well as the simple immersion in my surroundings. My life at home came back as if it had never left, or rather I had never left it.
I met up with Anna in Sioux Falls, and we drove up to Brookings, SD, to join up with Emilie and Nick for dinner. We had a lovely time, catching up on each other's lives, and it was great to see and touch them again. After a nice afternoon with them, I drove home to meet up with a friend. We too caught up with each other and I began the reentry process in earnest.
Trip Data:
Days on the road: 30
Miles traveled: 7767
States Visited: 8
plus Canada
Number of Hikes: 20
Miles Hiked: 120
Longest Hike: 10
miles
Shortest Hike: 3
miles
Highest Elevation: 10,800
ft. (Glacier at Great Basin)
Lowest Elevation: -200
ft. (Death Valley)
List of Hikes:
4 Devils
Tower, WY
3 Medicine Wheel, WY
7 Morrell Falls, MT
7 Apgar Lookout, Glacier NP, MT
10 Grinnell Glacier, Glacier NP, MT
10 Plain of 6 Glaciers, Bamff NP, Canada
3 Mt Rainier, WA
6 Mt Rainier, Skyline Trail, WA
3 Crater Lake, OR
18 Glen Aulin Trail, High Sierras, Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite NP, CA (3 days; 6 mi/day)
9 Road’s End, Cedar Grove, Kings Canyon NP, CA
10 Redwood Canyon, Kings Canyon NP, CA
3 Sequoia NP, CA
7 Devil’s Pile, Rainbow Falls, Mammoth Lakes, CA
4.5 Rock Lake, Near Mammoth, CA
4.5 Bristlecone Pine Grove and Glacier, Great Basin NP, NV
7 Antelope Island, The Great Salt Lake, UT
4 Spearfish Canyon, SD
120 miles/20 actual hikes = Avg. 6 mi per hike
120 miles/30 days = Avg. 4 mi per day
3 Medicine Wheel, WY
7 Morrell Falls, MT
7 Apgar Lookout, Glacier NP, MT
10 Grinnell Glacier, Glacier NP, MT
10 Plain of 6 Glaciers, Bamff NP, Canada
3 Mt Rainier, WA
6 Mt Rainier, Skyline Trail, WA
3 Crater Lake, OR
18 Glen Aulin Trail, High Sierras, Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite NP, CA (3 days; 6 mi/day)
9 Road’s End, Cedar Grove, Kings Canyon NP, CA
10 Redwood Canyon, Kings Canyon NP, CA
3 Sequoia NP, CA
7 Devil’s Pile, Rainbow Falls, Mammoth Lakes, CA
4.5 Rock Lake, Near Mammoth, CA
4.5 Bristlecone Pine Grove and Glacier, Great Basin NP, NV
7 Antelope Island, The Great Salt Lake, UT
4 Spearfish Canyon, SD
120 miles/20 actual hikes = Avg. 6 mi per hike
120 miles/30 days = Avg. 4 mi per day
Epilogue, September 13:
One of the things I let go that first night was my
commitment to writing every night. I no longer give myself the time to reflect
on the day, and I have settled back into indulging all the distractions that
decorate my life. I told myself I wouldn't do that, that I would keep writing
every night, but here it is, three weeks later, and this is the first I've
written since returning. Shameful my mind cries. Necessary is what my
"higher self" sighs. Change it my critic adds. We'll see, the realist
says.
In addition to missing the writing, I miss the regular
hiking. I’ve hiked a few times a week since I’ve been back, and I’m regularly
hitting the gym, but that’s not the same as that constant hike in front of me
and the satisfaction of it being completed behind me. And the variety of
landscape. Ah, I miss that. And the mountains. Iowa offers not a lot in the way
of mountains. When a picture pops up on Facebook from Glacier or Yosemite or some other wonderful
wild place, I catch my breath a little and sigh into the longing.
I know I’ll go back on the road next year, and maybe even
for a shorter period over the winter break, but I don’t know if anything will
ever match this experience I’ve had. The solitude, the adventure, the joy of
discovery – all that is unforgettable. I’m
extremely grateful that I have a life that affords me the ability to make this
kind of trip – I realize how privileged I am. And I’m willing to give up more
of this current life and whatever security it seems to provide to strike out on
the next adventure. Until then, I work to stay in the present moment and
occasionally gaze long into the images of the wilderness and indulge in the fantasy
of solitude, and for just a few moments I’m there, breathing.
