A PCT book review:

 My flight to San Diego is taking off in just a few short hours! I won't be around the internet for a while, but I scheduled a few more posts just because when you have a million things to do, clearly wasting time on the internet is a much better option. So you can expect regular posting right up until the 20th when I start hiking.

Other than skimming guidebooks for a few fleeting moments of inattentiveness, my sole research for this hike has been wikipedia (kind of pathetic, I know), the PCTA website (for just a few brief internet attention deficit moments), countless neurotic emails to friends and friends of friends who have hiked, and two memoirs. The memoirs were less for research and more because I enjoy reading fiction. I'm going to talk about the fiction now, rather than go to bed like a more sane person might do.

White's book reminds me a lot of Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. It's humorous but tends to gloss over what I consider the most important aspects of a hike: the deprivation and degradation, and interaction with other hikers. Don't get me wrong - both of these authors mention these things (often in fairly entertaining passages of writing). But for some reason, I just feel that neither really digs deep enough. My other issue with the book is that I found myself really turned off by his somewhat cavalier attitude towards his then girlfriend/hiking partner. I was not a fan. If you've read the book, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it because I can't tell if my secret inner militant feminist man-hater is swaying my opinion a bit too much and I'm overreacting. I may re-read The Cactus Eaters on my hike and see how I feel about it after giving it another chance. 

On to the next book, Wild by Cheryl Strayed. Initially I was prepared to be underwhelmed. It's a book that has been well-publicized (I have seen two review blurbs in national publications already) and breathlessly touts the author's encounters with bears and rattle snakes. "BIG WHOOP", was my first reaction, completely unimpressed. The interesting thing is, only fifty pages deep into the book I already really liked Strayed and was completely engrossed. Have you read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert? Like that protagonist, Strayed is running away from a broken marriage and embarking on an adventure. However unlike Gilbert, whom I loathed with a fiery passion (please note that I absolutely loved her book The Last American Man and found her narrative thoroughly enjoyable there. I just found myself rolling my eyes at her repeatedly during her personal journey to self-realization, unfortunately.) Strayed is really, truly likeable even as she recounts a journey that, let's face it, is pretty selfish. She shoots heroin a week before departing for her hike. She cheats on her husband repeatedly before they separate and then divorce. And yet I feel nothing but interest and sympathy for her. It's an engrossing narrative by a strong writer and the love and grief she expresses is believable and powerful. Unlike the other two books I previously mentioned, this narrative has a raw and compelling background story that is interwoven with the trials and tribulations and adventure and humor of a long distance hike. This is a book I was planning on reading on the plane and then passing on, but now I really want to share it with my mother and friends. It's too good to just casually leave behind. Also, the NYT book reviewer admits to crying while reading it! I did not shed a tear, but I will admit that it was tough to put down.

On mail drops:

I gave up on my mail drops with my departure for California looming mere days away. I hastily slapped down the lid on the largest of the boxes and walked away from the mess littering my parents dining room. There were good intentions involved with these mail drops. Great intentions, really. Visions of hemp hearts and 8 grain breakfast cereal and wholesome nutritious meals had danced merrily through my head until my incompetency and inability to pack and plan efficiently left me a defeated and broken woman, plagued by pouches of chia seeds, remorse and self-loathing.

 I am now going to admit something that I find slightly humiliating: I have been planning these mail drops for months now. MONTHS. For whatever unknown reason, I find it far easier to move bags of groceries from room to room than I do to finalize itineraries and determine amounts. These piles of oats and seeds and grains and berries have been moved from my car, to my room in New Hampshire, to the kitchen in New Hampshire, back into my car, to my room, back into the kitchen, in my car again to Massachusetts, to my sister's bedroom and finally to my parent's dining room and sun room, where they now remain, scattered throughout my parent's house in piles that are directly proportionate to the amount of despair I felt when attempting to divvy them up at the time. This is the albatross round my neck. Procrastination and packages. I couldn't even sleep in a bed last night, because it was covered in mail drop food. I have tried over and over to figure what exactly makes such a straight-forward task so challenging for me, but none of my answers are really adequate.

Yeah... that's a bed under there.

It is partially the knowledge that each ziplock bag full of sickly sweet vanilla protein powder will soon meld its nauseating fragrance with that of pungent dehydrated beans until it overpowers the taste of every other item in my box, partially just sheer unyielding procrastination, and partly the pressure-cooker of emotions that I submerge myself in every time I return home to my parents that is causing me to flail in a morass of unresolved planning and unpacked dry goods. Both hikes I imagined mail drops proceeding with good intentions and methodical ease and instead found myself overwhelmed with frustration and franticness at the last minute. I'm not a precise and methodical person. This sort of planning is not my strong suit. And yet somehow I find myself drawn to it, attracted like a moth to flame by the promise of order and preparation, which then inevitably turns to complete chaos.

On the brighter side of things: at least this hike I'm not attempting to pack up and move out of an entire house in one day.

Becca Stadtlander

I know, I know. My inconsistency in posting has been off the charts lately. (Well, it hasn't been that bad but for those of you used to a post per day I apologize!) My mind has been spinning in futile circles lately; yesterday I tried to take a ten minute shower and ended up staring blankly at the walls for over forty minutes while I reiterated itineraries and mail drops and unfinished tasks in my head. It was completely and utterly useless. The Pacific Crest Trail has taken over my life, and I'm not even hiking yet.

Moving on to brighter things: Becca Stadtlander creates the most lovely illustrations and is yet another artist I kind of want to be.You can tell that nature makes her happy, and that makes me happy!

See you tomorrow. I promise.

Asahel Curtis

Today I was researching* Edward Curtis (a photographer who documented Native Americans at the beginning of the 20th century) when I stumbled across his lesser-known brother via NPR. Asahel was also a photographer and what caught my eye were these colorized lantern slides of Washington that were commissioned by the Washington state Department of Conservation and Development of the time.

NPR's article at one point says "...just as often the images are beautiful because they create a world with its own integrity, either by their awkwardness or because the color they offer is better than what we experience in the real world."

 Well, I beg to differ, NPR!

 I think that the color that I'll be experiencing in the beautiful state of Washington while on the Pacific Crest Trail will suit me just fine thankyouverymuch!**



*And by researching, I mean procrastinating of course.
** I drank too much coffee before writing this. Clearly.

Zero days.

Every day on a long distance hike is defined by mileage. A zero day is a pause from the normal routine of walking. Ostensibly these days are when you relax; instead usually you wind up cramming a large amount of errands into a small time frame.

Let's consider my lapses in posting last week zero days. I'm trying to fit so many things into small slots of time: socialization, productivity, creativity, and decompression from a work environment that doesn't just follow me home, it is my home. Lately I haven't feel like taking photos, or talking about art, or hiking, or really much about anything. I did however come to the conclusion that there are not enough hours in the day when you are inwardly panicking over an imminent thru-hike.

Panic is a misleading word, though. This is more like a nagging hangnail of insecurity that I can't resist picking at. I'm not really sure why I feel this way when I've already walked hundreds of miles before. But I do. This has been going on for days now. I'm going to try my best to clear the lingering cloud of doom and stress off of me today. Because look at what lies in my future: incredible things.

Photo of Lyman Glacier and tamarack trees by Marshmallow.

Finding a different time.

It's a beautiful day, and I'm sitting here (ok, by sitting I really mean slumping) on a couch in a cozy home in a tiny town in Vermont nursing a slight hangover and posting belatedly.  The coffee seems to be curing the hangover, thankfully. What has not been cured, however, is the fact that I'm thinking the same revolving thoughts that have been swirling through my head for weeks now.

Thoughts like: why is it so hard to have a wonderful adventure like this in our day and age? When I say I want to hitch-hike across the country generally the response I get is "Oh, that sounds really dangerous." Which frankly, isn't enough to deter me... but my present financial situation is pretty bleak and I do want to be able to afford taking 5 months off from my life to walk from Mexico to Canada. So perhaps frittering away my money at rest stops should not be on my agenda. I'm on the fence. I know it can be a cheap way to travel... but there's always a fear that unanticipated expenses will arise. If you have grand stories about hitching, please share them! (One of the guests at the lodge this winter met his wife hitching across Alaska. Of course, like most of the lovely stories I have heard about hitch-hiking, this happened several decades ago... during what everyone is fond of referring to as a different time.)

Speaking of: if you're like me and you secretly long to live in that mysterious state of existence known as a different time watch this trailer. These people are doing just that.

Encountering Space: The Fire Lookouts of Montana from Tom Persinger on Vimeo.

ps: It's time to get off the couch and I think I'm going to take a day off from blogging tomorrow... but I promise I'll be back on Thursday! See you then. Bring your favorite hitch-hiking tale!

Phases of long distance hiking prep.

I tend to go through several stages when planning a large adventure. The first step is announcing my plans to my friends and family. This is done well in advance, less out of excitement and more out of a desire to appall them. However at this point they tend to handle my pronouncements disappointingly well. Once my loved ones have been made aware of my plans and have hardly blinked a collective eye I move on to preparation.

Embarrassingly enough, the bulk of my time and effort is spent on idle uselessness rather than actual preparation; apparently my brain enjoys fixating on the perfect hiking outfit and weighing gear but excitement and tangible preparation fails to really make an appearance. I can agonize for hours over the theoretical inclusion of a dress to wear on days off from hiking. I've weighed my gear three times now. I'm not proud of this, but it's true.

And so between obsessive list making and agonizing over what to wear several months sneak by unnoticed and we then enter what I like to call the "Oh shit." phase. This is when I realize that I have less than two months left to get physically and mentally in shape for this hike. I become aware of all the mundane tasks I have been postponing: planning where to mail myself food, obtaining supplies, selling gear in order to afford a new backpack, figuring out the logistics of getting myself to a trailhead located on the opposite side of the country and most importantly, I start to panic about not being in shape, about my various joints and tendons crapping out on me; before I have even completed my preparation for the hike I begin visualizing its imminent failure.

I am panicking quietly at least; I just ignore the overwhelming stack of 400+ double-sided map pages sitting on my floor and I guzzle herbal teas like it's my job. I'm nursing a recurring knee injury brought on by winter hiking abuse. It's mildly stressful, to say the least. But at least the herbs with anti-inflammatory properties don't taste that bad.

I'm not going to lie: occasionally the pile of maps can longer be ignored and the words "Oh shit." really do reverberate through my mind. And when that happens rather than do something productive like finalize my mail drops instead I break out the scale again and make another list. Nothing like a little procrastination to soothe the nerves!

Procrastination. It's occasionally delicious.

Mom, plan on making these cookies to mail to me on the trail. Sea salt & demerara sugar encrusted chocolate cookies (I overdosed on the sea salt a little, but that was ok!). Recipe via Orangette (I couldn't find a direct link, but it was a fairly recent post).

I have a million things I should be doing, but instead for the past two months all I have consistently been productive at is baking. There are worse things to waste time with, I suppose.

Hello, snow.

Over 6 inches already and it's still coming down. I could go out for a snowy hike or be productive and create some surface patterns... but instead I think I'm going enjoy my made from scratch hot cocoa and bake a tart or two. If I don't lose internet (which we tend to do when it snows heavily) I'll post a recipe later.