I recently (Aug 4, I believe) joined up with Bear Bait for some high quality adventuring. The plan was to party it up at Reggae Risin’ for a few days, cook a bunch of food to earn our keep (just like the old days at the Coop), somehow get to Crater Lake, and then spend a week hiking. I was super excited, as I’d just finished up a summer geology course, and was aching for summer freedom.
Between Aug 1st and Aug 14th, I went from Billings to Seattle to Salem to Eureka to Crater Lake to Ashland back to Salem and then Seattle. I traveled by Greyhound, by car, by hitching, by hiking, and then by bus and then Amtrak back home to Seattle. In the process, I saw a good deal of our huge country, and folks from all walks of life. Along the way, I took an interest in how my method of transportation influenced my experiences.
I have always seen America as a country defined by cars. Anywhere you go, the infrastructure is designed primarily for cars. Take a look at how much physical space in any town is devoted to parking lots, especially the suburbs. Cars are our most obvious social status symbol. Sports cars, SUV’s, big ass ‘merican pickups, its all about the biggest and the best. So what does it say when a person is traveling by some other means?
From my experiences, I saw time and again that I was at a serious disadvantage, because I could not control how I moved from point A to point B. Going on the bus was an excellent lesson in just how inept a company with no competition can be. I took three Greyhound buses. The first broke down outside of Missoula, causing us to wait for three hours until a replacement showed up. The 2nd bus was just an hour late. The 3rd broke down before it ever got to the station (Medford, OR), so we had to wait three hours until the next regularly scheduled bus came through. The chicken buses of Latin America, ancient American school buses in actuality, perform far better. At each delay, people vented their frustrations in futile protest, as they had absolutely no control over when they would arrive at their destination.
The bus at least has a schedule. We hitched from the Reggae fest to Crater Lake, a little over 260 miles. This took us two and a half days, with a total travel time of roughly 28 hours on the road or roadside, for a Hitched MPH of less than 10 hmph. To say the least, we had no control over our travel. We were relying solely on the generosity and trust of strangers, although we did smile a lot to fool them. Standing on the side of a road, for hours and hours and hours (six in a row at one point), we understood just how frustrating it is to be powerless over our transportation.
There is another interesting aspect of power that goes with driving a car. Cars are just little mobile homes, and as a result we associate them with privacy. Just look over to the car next to you on the highway, and watch the person pick their nose, or smoke a bowl, or give road-head. You see what I mean? Privacy is the first thing you sacrifice when you go with any sort of public transportation. I have to behave as inoffensively as possible, which means no burping, farting or masturbating, and so does everyone else on the bus. Except for the obnoxiously frisky couple in the seat in front of me on the Billings Greyhound. So much giggling…
But from my point of view, that’s just the point. I have no power to prevent such obnoxious behavior, just like I can’t prevent the person behind me from shouting into their cell phone about how their ex-husband is fucking them over until, mercifully, the battery runs out. Taking the bus forces me to deal with the unpleasantness of the rest of the world. Hitching forces me to lose all control over how I will get to my destination. Well shucks, I think I want to go buy a car.
So here’s my shocking conclusion. Not having a car is a huge disadvantage in America. This means that anyone who can get one will. The only folks who don’t have one are the low income, or the very highly principled autophobes. And that is where I shall leave off for now, cuz I’m heading for the North Cascades early tomorrow morning w/ my dad and bro. I shall complete this thang next week, focusing on how hitchers (Me and Bear Bait) are perceived by the people driving by.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
That's it! I've gone insane...
So... remember how I was telling you a while back how I've decided to seize upon unexpected and unplanned opportunities more eagerly? Well, maybe I didn't tell you that in so many words, but that's what I was getting at with my stories about my decision to go to Reggae on the River. Well, it happended again, so here goes.
I was staying with the trail angels in Ashland, and me and some friends had just gotten back from a big meal and a night of revelry. Durine my routine late night email check, I got an email from a Southbounder who I'd met back in Castella. Basically, the email was an invitation to come back down to CA and hike the John Muir Trail.
I thought about it for a little bit, but not that long. After all, Id been hearing from all the hikers how amazing that stretch was and I'd already promised myself that I'd go back and do it. SO, why not sooner rather than later? Hadn't I learned anything from previous experiences? I certainly become more comfortable with spontaneity... So, I emailed back something to the effect of "hell yeah!", but with more words, leaving the logistics for later (which is actually now, since this happened 3 days ago).
That's it, I'm going to hike the JMT and this will probably be my last post. Thank you so much for reading and following along on my adventure; I hope you got something good out of it. Please get in touch if you ever want to talk about the PCT, backpacking or life, as I've learned so much about all these things during my journey. Definitely get in touch if you're planning a thru-hike or long-distance backpacking trip, as I've picked up tons of tricks and gear tips along the way. My new email for now is hikingnoble@gmail.com, I'm pretty sure Pomona kicked me off my old one.
How's that for an abrupt ending? Hope to see you on the other side!
Love
Bear Bait
I was staying with the trail angels in Ashland, and me and some friends had just gotten back from a big meal and a night of revelry. Durine my routine late night email check, I got an email from a Southbounder who I'd met back in Castella. Basically, the email was an invitation to come back down to CA and hike the John Muir Trail.
I thought about it for a little bit, but not that long. After all, Id been hearing from all the hikers how amazing that stretch was and I'd already promised myself that I'd go back and do it. SO, why not sooner rather than later? Hadn't I learned anything from previous experiences? I certainly become more comfortable with spontaneity... So, I emailed back something to the effect of "hell yeah!", but with more words, leaving the logistics for later (which is actually now, since this happened 3 days ago).
That's it, I'm going to hike the JMT and this will probably be my last post. Thank you so much for reading and following along on my adventure; I hope you got something good out of it. Please get in touch if you ever want to talk about the PCT, backpacking or life, as I've learned so much about all these things during my journey. Definitely get in touch if you're planning a thru-hike or long-distance backpacking trip, as I've picked up tons of tricks and gear tips along the way. My new email for now is hikingnoble@gmail.com, I'm pretty sure Pomona kicked me off my old one.
How's that for an abrupt ending? Hope to see you on the other side!
Love
Bear Bait
Ashland: my own personal black hole.
Anyone ever heard of Ashland, OR? Well good for you if you have and you should've if you haven't. Ashland is this great town in Southern Oregon, home to the Shakespeare Festival, a beautiful river, many hippies, and a growing retirment community (damn Californians). I never realized it until this trip, but it also happens to be my own personal black hole.
What do I mean by this? Exactly what you'd expect: Ashland seems to have a wierd gravitational force that seems to attract me. Let me give some examples. When Hal and I were hitchhiking towards Crater Lake, we ended spending the night in Ashland with his (now our) friend Joe, who he'd met in Israel. Great guy, put us up after a long day of hitching and even fed us pancakes for breakfast, which I found surprisingly delicious after my Seiad Valley experience. We actually had to hitch out of our way to get to Ashland, as we were coming from Gratns Pass at the time.
Ok, not convinced? How about this: In my last two weeks hiking, I've been in Ashland 4 separate times: with Hal and Joe, with my parents, with some trail angels and then with just my dad. In that time, I've seen 3 plays and eaten at my favorite Ashland restaraunt, Wiley's World, 3 times. I've also discovered my new favorite pizza parlor and eaten there twice. I didn't even like plays before coming to Ashland, and now I can't see enough! I'm telling you, this place is like an addictive drug to me; I can't pull myself away.
Tomorrow will be a difficult day. Tomorrow I leave Ashland for a very long time to go hike the JMT (see next post for more on that exciting news). However, I have no doubt that I will be back through one more fix before I'm done.
-Bear Bait
What do I mean by this? Exactly what you'd expect: Ashland seems to have a wierd gravitational force that seems to attract me. Let me give some examples. When Hal and I were hitchhiking towards Crater Lake, we ended spending the night in Ashland with his (now our) friend Joe, who he'd met in Israel. Great guy, put us up after a long day of hitching and even fed us pancakes for breakfast, which I found surprisingly delicious after my Seiad Valley experience. We actually had to hitch out of our way to get to Ashland, as we were coming from Gratns Pass at the time.
Ok, not convinced? How about this: In my last two weeks hiking, I've been in Ashland 4 separate times: with Hal and Joe, with my parents, with some trail angels and then with just my dad. In that time, I've seen 3 plays and eaten at my favorite Ashland restaraunt, Wiley's World, 3 times. I've also discovered my new favorite pizza parlor and eaten there twice. I didn't even like plays before coming to Ashland, and now I can't see enough! I'm telling you, this place is like an addictive drug to me; I can't pull myself away.
Tomorrow will be a difficult day. Tomorrow I leave Ashland for a very long time to go hike the JMT (see next post for more on that exciting news). However, I have no doubt that I will be back through one more fix before I'm done.
-Bear Bait
Friday, August 17, 2007
Breakfast of Champions
I always knew I had potential. At least, that's what my mom would tell me. So, from a young age I've held myself to high standards. Yet, I've never truly felt like I've fulfilled my potential. Sure, I've done well in school, received a degree from a good college, had some measure of success in sports, gone on a long-ass hike; still that's all left me with an unfulfilled feeling. There was still something missing from my life...
That is, until I reached Seiad Valley. Seiad Valley is the last California town along the PCT, a mere 30 miles from the Oregon-California border. This PCT metropolis of 600 people is famous among hikers and even known among larger circles. The reason for this: the 5 lb pancake challenge, featured as #3 on the Travel Channel's 10 greatest US pig outs. The deal is this: the local chef will make you 5 1lb pancakes for free! That is, if you can eat them all in 2 hours. Its a lot of pancake batter, about a gallon to be precise. Hikers, being the cocky eaters we are, always attempt the feat yet it is rarely accomplished. Something like 2 people in the past 4 years have done it. So, of course Panther and I had to try.
My strategy was simple: eat as fast as I could and get down as many pancakes as possible, then struggle through the remainder with sheer will and determination. What surprised me is that it actually worked. Before I started feeling terrible, I had down 4 oversized pancakes and was waiting on my fifth. I have pictures of that point; they're not flattering. But Dave, the guy making the pancakes, held up a muscle shirt proclaiming "I survived the pancake challenge" that would be my prize, spurring me through to 41/2. At that point a small crowd had started to gather in the restauraunt and Dave's son Wess was running around with the victor camera proclaiming: "he's gonna do it, I think he's really gonna do it!". By that time my saliva glands had stopped functioning, but how could I dissapoint such a cute kid? You've never seen such a wonderful display of sheer gluttony.
Completing the pancake challenge certainly made my trip South more interesting; I got plenty of congratulations from all the hikers I met. I really attribute all to my brilliant strategy. Funny thing is that Panther, even though he looked like he was going to hurl on pancake number three, not only completed the challenge but ate 5 eggs to boot. You can imagine the godlike reputation he now holds on the trail.
Thus, I've made my name on the trail and finally feel fulfilled in my life's journey. Guess I can stop hiking now, right? Fat chance...
-Bear Bait
That is, until I reached Seiad Valley. Seiad Valley is the last California town along the PCT, a mere 30 miles from the Oregon-California border. This PCT metropolis of 600 people is famous among hikers and even known among larger circles. The reason for this: the 5 lb pancake challenge, featured as #3 on the Travel Channel's 10 greatest US pig outs. The deal is this: the local chef will make you 5 1lb pancakes for free! That is, if you can eat them all in 2 hours. Its a lot of pancake batter, about a gallon to be precise. Hikers, being the cocky eaters we are, always attempt the feat yet it is rarely accomplished. Something like 2 people in the past 4 years have done it. So, of course Panther and I had to try.
My strategy was simple: eat as fast as I could and get down as many pancakes as possible, then struggle through the remainder with sheer will and determination. What surprised me is that it actually worked. Before I started feeling terrible, I had down 4 oversized pancakes and was waiting on my fifth. I have pictures of that point; they're not flattering. But Dave, the guy making the pancakes, held up a muscle shirt proclaiming "I survived the pancake challenge" that would be my prize, spurring me through to 41/2. At that point a small crowd had started to gather in the restauraunt and Dave's son Wess was running around with the victor camera proclaiming: "he's gonna do it, I think he's really gonna do it!". By that time my saliva glands had stopped functioning, but how could I dissapoint such a cute kid? You've never seen such a wonderful display of sheer gluttony.
Completing the pancake challenge certainly made my trip South more interesting; I got plenty of congratulations from all the hikers I met. I really attribute all to my brilliant strategy. Funny thing is that Panther, even though he looked like he was going to hurl on pancake number three, not only completed the challenge but ate 5 eggs to boot. You can imagine the godlike reputation he now holds on the trail.
Thus, I've made my name on the trail and finally feel fulfilled in my life's journey. Guess I can stop hiking now, right? Fat chance...
-Bear Bait
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Schedule Gets Wierder...
Just a quick update on where I'm at:
I left the trail for the festival from Seiad Valley. Hal and I then hitched up to Crater Lake, hiked up and around the rim and travelled south to highway 140. I'll probably leave it to him to tell you about our trip, if that bum ever gets around to it. Give him some time though, he's pretty slow...
Tomorrow (actually this morning by my time) I'm leaving, southbound, to finish the 120 mile stretch between highway 140 and Seiad Valley. I'll have that done by Sunday morning. After that, I'll be back in Ashland for a day, at which point I'll head north from Crater Lake up to Eugene, the end of the journey.
So, if there's any last minute mail or anything, I would recommend sending it to Ashland and I will pick it up Monday morning. Otherwise, its been real! I'll try to make some more entries when I get into Ashland, but no gurantees.
I left the trail for the festival from Seiad Valley. Hal and I then hitched up to Crater Lake, hiked up and around the rim and travelled south to highway 140. I'll probably leave it to him to tell you about our trip, if that bum ever gets around to it. Give him some time though, he's pretty slow...
Tomorrow (actually this morning by my time) I'm leaving, southbound, to finish the 120 mile stretch between highway 140 and Seiad Valley. I'll have that done by Sunday morning. After that, I'll be back in Ashland for a day, at which point I'll head north from Crater Lake up to Eugene, the end of the journey.
So, if there's any last minute mail or anything, I would recommend sending it to Ashland and I will pick it up Monday morning. Otherwise, its been real! I'll try to make some more entries when I get into Ashland, but no gurantees.
Encounters and Panther
Starting out this trip I though I would be running into all sorts of wild animals. Hostile bears and prowling mountain lions were both eventualities I was prepared to deal with. My dad and a friend called me up one night, having imbibed some wine, and tried to convince me to carry a hand gun. You know, to deal with the moutain lions and prowling wood bandits. I actually had to consider that proposal before turning it down. I thought about carrying a canister of bear spray, but decided against it because of weight. I have carried a big-ass knife with me the whole way, but am yet to use it for anything besides cutting mole skin and spreading peanut butter.
Most wildlife encounters on this trail are pretty mild; people rearely encounter bears or mountain lions in a wild setting. I say wild because bears often show up near dumpsters or in Yosemite campgrounds, but those don't really count as wild animals: Yosemite bears were taught to love human food four generations ago and have not relented since. They're remarkably smart and unphased by humans, making for some interesting but usually harmless campground encounters. My wildlife encounters were restricted to a long distance view of a fox and a tame bear sighting next to a restauraunt dumster. Like I said, pretty mild. That is, before I started hiking with Panther.
Panther got his name as a result of a series of animal encounters: to prepare for the PCT, he hikedsome trail in Florida, where a Panther jumped out in front of him. Later, on the PCT proper, he saw a Mountain Lion on his first day of hiking. Since then his name, and his fate, has been set in stone. Panther has encountered at least 6 wild bears, way more than anyone I've ever heard of. Four of these bears were mother-cub pairs, which can make the otherwise timid black bear into a real danger. At one point, he ran face to face into a mother-cub duo on the trail and stared them down for 2 full minutes (as he tells it at least). At some point, the cub bolted up a tree and the mother followed halfway, still leery of Panther. Panther decided it would be good to scare her with loud noises, encouraging her to move further up so he could pass safely. Wrong decision. His WHOOPs set the momma off, who then came screeching down the tree. Panther never looked back to see how close that bear got to him.
It may be the fact that he hikes without trekking poles, but I like to balme Panther's unusual number of encounters on his animalistic energy. To call Panther an intense person is a vast understatement. He radiates intensity in whatever he does, especially hiking. Panther contracted a terrible rash while we were travelling through poison oak country. Turns out, he's terribly allergic (which he knew), yet didn't bother to find out what it looks like. I even offered to show him, but he declined. Moron. I hiked with him for a number of days while the rash quickly spread over his entire body. I cannot conceive of the amount of pain that guy endured, hiking 25-30 miles a day with his entire body itchy, swelling and on fire. After the poison oak spread up his finger tips and he stopped being able to sleep, he got off the trail to seek medical help.
Panther is an amzing person who comes from an amazing place. By amazing I mean terrifying. Panther grew up in the inner city of Chicago and had a rough rough early life. He was in a gang by the time he was 15 and went to jail not too long after. He's a convicted violent felon who's snorted and smoked everything you can conceive of, short of heroin. The number of crazy drug stories he has are mind boggling. He spent most of his young life fucked up physically, mentally or in jail. He didn't graduate from high school.
I have to give the guy credit; he's strong. At some point he realized where his life was going and did something about it. Five years ago, he joined an NAA group and got clean. This trip is actually a celebration of his 5th year of sobriety; no booze, no drugs, no nothing. Except caffeine. That man lives on coffee and Mountain Dew. I've sat next to him in a bar and watched him drink 8 cups of Java. Those weren't his first of the morning. The amount of insight Panther has gained from his experiences is staggering, and I've found that we've drawn many similar conclusions about life, despite our night and day backgrounds.
But I digress. As I was saying, my wild animal encounters were lacking until I met Panther. We were both heading for Reggae Rising, so we decided to hike a short stretch together. On the second day out I had one of the more terrifying experiences of the trail. There we were, walking along with Panther in the lead. He hears a kssssssssssssssss, the rattle of a rattlesnake, and goes to check it out on the side of the trail. This being my first rattler, I think he's insane. But as he approaches, the rattler seems ok and doesn't strike. Panther gets bored and jumps past him on the trail. I get curious and a little brave, so I decide to check out the rattlesnake too. As I approach, I hear ksssssssssssssssss, normal because the snake is warning me to back off. So I step to the other side of the trail and look to pass him.
Kssssssssssssssssss, from my right. I look down, and practiacally under my boot is another rattler, nearly a twin to the recent focus of our fascination. I'm at once terrified and pissed; the one because there's a rattler right next to my leg and the other because it didn't bother to rattle the entire time Panther was almost stepping on him. I froze a moment, let out a forceful profanity and got the hell past the rattlesnake gauntlet of death. Panther thought that was hillarious, and described my movements as an extremely nervous, frantic ballet.
During the rest of my time with Panther I saw two more rattlesnakes and we had a night visit from a curious bear. I swear, something about that guy just makes all the animals in a mile radius come running.
I stopped hiking with Panther after the festival. I haven't seen a single rattlesnake since.
Bear Bait
Most wildlife encounters on this trail are pretty mild; people rearely encounter bears or mountain lions in a wild setting. I say wild because bears often show up near dumpsters or in Yosemite campgrounds, but those don't really count as wild animals: Yosemite bears were taught to love human food four generations ago and have not relented since. They're remarkably smart and unphased by humans, making for some interesting but usually harmless campground encounters. My wildlife encounters were restricted to a long distance view of a fox and a tame bear sighting next to a restauraunt dumster. Like I said, pretty mild. That is, before I started hiking with Panther.
Panther got his name as a result of a series of animal encounters: to prepare for the PCT, he hikedsome trail in Florida, where a Panther jumped out in front of him. Later, on the PCT proper, he saw a Mountain Lion on his first day of hiking. Since then his name, and his fate, has been set in stone. Panther has encountered at least 6 wild bears, way more than anyone I've ever heard of. Four of these bears were mother-cub pairs, which can make the otherwise timid black bear into a real danger. At one point, he ran face to face into a mother-cub duo on the trail and stared them down for 2 full minutes (as he tells it at least). At some point, the cub bolted up a tree and the mother followed halfway, still leery of Panther. Panther decided it would be good to scare her with loud noises, encouraging her to move further up so he could pass safely. Wrong decision. His WHOOPs set the momma off, who then came screeching down the tree. Panther never looked back to see how close that bear got to him.
It may be the fact that he hikes without trekking poles, but I like to balme Panther's unusual number of encounters on his animalistic energy. To call Panther an intense person is a vast understatement. He radiates intensity in whatever he does, especially hiking. Panther contracted a terrible rash while we were travelling through poison oak country. Turns out, he's terribly allergic (which he knew), yet didn't bother to find out what it looks like. I even offered to show him, but he declined. Moron. I hiked with him for a number of days while the rash quickly spread over his entire body. I cannot conceive of the amount of pain that guy endured, hiking 25-30 miles a day with his entire body itchy, swelling and on fire. After the poison oak spread up his finger tips and he stopped being able to sleep, he got off the trail to seek medical help.
Panther is an amzing person who comes from an amazing place. By amazing I mean terrifying. Panther grew up in the inner city of Chicago and had a rough rough early life. He was in a gang by the time he was 15 and went to jail not too long after. He's a convicted violent felon who's snorted and smoked everything you can conceive of, short of heroin. The number of crazy drug stories he has are mind boggling. He spent most of his young life fucked up physically, mentally or in jail. He didn't graduate from high school.
I have to give the guy credit; he's strong. At some point he realized where his life was going and did something about it. Five years ago, he joined an NAA group and got clean. This trip is actually a celebration of his 5th year of sobriety; no booze, no drugs, no nothing. Except caffeine. That man lives on coffee and Mountain Dew. I've sat next to him in a bar and watched him drink 8 cups of Java. Those weren't his first of the morning. The amount of insight Panther has gained from his experiences is staggering, and I've found that we've drawn many similar conclusions about life, despite our night and day backgrounds.
But I digress. As I was saying, my wild animal encounters were lacking until I met Panther. We were both heading for Reggae Rising, so we decided to hike a short stretch together. On the second day out I had one of the more terrifying experiences of the trail. There we were, walking along with Panther in the lead. He hears a kssssssssssssssss, the rattle of a rattlesnake, and goes to check it out on the side of the trail. This being my first rattler, I think he's insane. But as he approaches, the rattler seems ok and doesn't strike. Panther gets bored and jumps past him on the trail. I get curious and a little brave, so I decide to check out the rattlesnake too. As I approach, I hear ksssssssssssssssss, normal because the snake is warning me to back off. So I step to the other side of the trail and look to pass him.
Kssssssssssssssssss, from my right. I look down, and practiacally under my boot is another rattler, nearly a twin to the recent focus of our fascination. I'm at once terrified and pissed; the one because there's a rattler right next to my leg and the other because it didn't bother to rattle the entire time Panther was almost stepping on him. I froze a moment, let out a forceful profanity and got the hell past the rattlesnake gauntlet of death. Panther thought that was hillarious, and described my movements as an extremely nervous, frantic ballet.
During the rest of my time with Panther I saw two more rattlesnakes and we had a night visit from a curious bear. I swear, something about that guy just makes all the animals in a mile radius come running.
I stopped hiking with Panther after the festival. I haven't seen a single rattlesnake since.
Bear Bait
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Waiting
Have you ever read the book Siddartha, by Herman Hesse? It's one of my favorite books, if not my very favorite. If you haven't read, please do because it is wonderful. You might now like it, as many people don't, but it still worth reading. The book depicts a young Hindhu man who goes on a spiritual journey, searching for the path to Enlightenment. After the first 25 years of his life, he emerges with three skills that he holds above all else: thinking, fasting and waiting (I'm doing this from memory, so I really hope those are right...).
The first skill is a work in progress: I've been a pretty decent thinker all my life and college has helped me improve on that, despite those nasty rumors. Yet, I know that thinking is a skill that I will be honing for the rest of my life.
The second is something completely beyond me. I'm terrible at fasting and probably always will be. The problem is I like food too much. Just ask Hal how much ice cream I eat on the trail; the pints of Ben and Jerry's quake in fear as I walk into the local grocery store. The closest I've ever come to fasting was the three day organic apple/spring water diet I embarked upon while living in NYC, almost foiled by my then-employment at a burrito restaurant. Damn, those burritos looked good by the end of the third day. I am good at feasting, as I will tell you about in the next blog, but I don't think Siddartha would have too much respect for that...
Waiting, now here's the interesting one. Despite appearances, I was a pretty hard worker in college. I learned to multitask, shortcut and otherwise maximize my productivity in order to make possible all the things I wanted to do. This was great, because it allowed me to explore an entire spectrum of wonderful activities that were available to me. Yet, being in such a highly stimulating environment for a prolonged period of time took its toll on me: I think, somewhere along the line, I forgot how to wait. I became uncomfortable with just doing nothing with my time. Don't get me wrong; I found time to relax, socialize and unwind. But to me these were productive uses of my time. Eventually, I forgot how to wait, how to be comfortable with the entirely unproductive passing of time. A common ailment in our society I believe.
One of the most valuable things I've learned from my experiences was really an old lesson. I relearned how to wait. There's something about spending your entire day devoted towards the modest goal of moving 25 miles that makes you realize that losing an hour is really no big deal. That's tantamount to moving 3 miles less that day, which in the larger, 1000-mile scheme of things is a speck of dust on your candy bar: no big deal. When you realize this, waiting for an hour is effortless.
The first skill is a work in progress: I've been a pretty decent thinker all my life and college has helped me improve on that, despite those nasty rumors. Yet, I know that thinking is a skill that I will be honing for the rest of my life.
The second is something completely beyond me. I'm terrible at fasting and probably always will be. The problem is I like food too much. Just ask Hal how much ice cream I eat on the trail; the pints of Ben and Jerry's quake in fear as I walk into the local grocery store. The closest I've ever come to fasting was the three day organic apple/spring water diet I embarked upon while living in NYC, almost foiled by my then-employment at a burrito restaurant. Damn, those burritos looked good by the end of the third day. I am good at feasting, as I will tell you about in the next blog, but I don't think Siddartha would have too much respect for that...
Waiting, now here's the interesting one. Despite appearances, I was a pretty hard worker in college. I learned to multitask, shortcut and otherwise maximize my productivity in order to make possible all the things I wanted to do. This was great, because it allowed me to explore an entire spectrum of wonderful activities that were available to me. Yet, being in such a highly stimulating environment for a prolonged period of time took its toll on me: I think, somewhere along the line, I forgot how to wait. I became uncomfortable with just doing nothing with my time. Don't get me wrong; I found time to relax, socialize and unwind. But to me these were productive uses of my time. Eventually, I forgot how to wait, how to be comfortable with the entirely unproductive passing of time. A common ailment in our society I believe.
One of the most valuable things I've learned from my experiences was really an old lesson. I relearned how to wait. There's something about spending your entire day devoted towards the modest goal of moving 25 miles that makes you realize that losing an hour is really no big deal. That's tantamount to moving 3 miles less that day, which in the larger, 1000-mile scheme of things is a speck of dust on your candy bar: no big deal. When you realize this, waiting for an hour is effortless.
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