Revelation
The following is Part
III in a trilogy of posts concerning my recent experience on the Pacific Crest
Trail (PCT). Each part has been adapted from journal entries written in the
wild. The date and time listed are when the journal entry was originally
written. Read Part
I or Part II.
9 July, 2014:
Wednesday
21:12
I am writing later due to having climbed Tinker Knob (mile
53.7). Setting up camp was also very arduous.
The ridgeline north of the knob is quite windy. It took
about three solid attempts and intermittent cursing to get my tent up. This was
mainly due to trying to adjust to the direction of the wind—not wanting a
repeat of Dick's Pass. Using rocks on top of my tent pegs, and throwing gear
inside to weigh down the tent, I finally managed to do it.
This was all after taking considerable time to acquire water
from a nearby snow bank. Thank God for the snow, though. I misunderstood a day
hiker's comment that there would be other water sources after Squaw Creek, which
is where we met. I was preparing to load up there at Squaw Creek, but she
assured me that one good spring was still to come before Tinker Knob. Along the
way, I kept looking for something more substantial than seepage across the
path. I skipped three of these in hopes of something more. Unfortunately.
Nearing Tinker Knob, and eventually my campsite, feeling quite spent, I began
to brace myself for the necessity to make a mile return trip to the nearest
"water source" with all my water carriers. The snow saved me the
trip. Though the effort to clean up, boil snow, and generally accumulate water
was taxing, it did save my feet.
These feet are in a bad state. It is mostly the left foot—again.
It is actually the same problem as Section A: blistering under the callous of
the palm of the foot. It hurts so much. It must be the softness of my running
shoes combined with too much pack weight (still), rocky terrain, and maybe an
overly aggressive last two days. Damn it. I will figure this out someday. My
foot treatment only seemed to make it worse. I pray that a night off the feet
will strengthen them for the final 11 miles to Donner Pass
tomorrow. This repetition of history is discouraging.
It was a better trail today, though. Most of it was on
ridges that afforded glorious views of ski resorts, including Squaw
Valley, as well as the hilly region north of Lake Tahoe.
I left North Fork Blackwood Creek at a good time (7:45). All but the TRT hikers had departed.
At various points of the morning, I caught each party of PCT
thru-hikers. One man was wearing a kilt, and later even carried a sun umbrella.
Yet in the end, I know that I am not one of them. I am an outsider, an enigma.
Some thru-hikers are friendly, talking about hopes like a cheeseburger at old Donner
Pass (Highway 40). Others admired the view with me. All proceeded
on past Tinker Knob, however. I envy their conditioning, and their autonomy. I
envy the fun a group of them was having talking in front of a video camera—an
interview of sorts, likely for a documentary by the fellow thru-hiker doing the
filming. I just do not seem cut out for distance backpacking.
The sunset panorama from Tinker Knob made the whole day
worth it—and then some. I may hobble back up there at sunrise. What glorious
creation. Hallelujah to the LORD of heaven and earth.
10 July, 2014:
THUR
0:54
There is an immense stillness.
The wind sleeps. No birds sing. Save the occasional jet
drone or, if you listen carefully, even the sound of a laboring car driving up
Donner Pass, all is at rest. The land. My spirit. Even the pain in my body. I
could not sleep. Perhaps it was the silence calling me outside my tent to gaze
at and listen to the truth. God. It is like stepping outside of my frailty and
circumstances for a brief respite—a time of communion with God unhindered by
distraction. Only holiness remains, a sacred ground.
A waxing gibbous moon shines brightly behind a glowing
cloud-dappled sky. Lights glow far to the west, and some to the east. Lights shine
above: those not overcome by moonlight. This is the land between civilization.
Mankind labors to cross it as expediently as possible. He runs past it. Yet I
desire to run through it. Not so much for speed, but for joy. Why do birds
glide, or deer bound? Because God made them so. Well, He made me to run. In
that I am free. In that I am at my best. I must find a way to journey this divide
as myself, no longer pretending to be someone else. I do not really like
long-distance hiking, yet this wilderness is undeniably my home. I belong here.
I must find a way to continue, to adapt and not give up. I must stop
pretending. Soli Deo Gloria. Amen.
12 July, 2014:
SAT [Regarding July 10]
15:48
Tinker Knob at dawn is just as lovely. If only my feet were
in a better condition. From observing a neighboring party of campers—maybe
fifteen of them—doing Thai-Chi, to packing up a somewhat dusty camp, I felt a
certain trepidation at how the 10+ miles for the day would be.
The first hour of hiking was encouraging. Despite a rocky
path, I made aggressive progress. After that, however, pain and exhaustion
crept in. Every step became a trial of the will. Those seven miles felt
particularly long, especially the last three between Highway 40 and Highway 80.
I just never seemed to get any closer to the end. Waiting for large groups of
hikers to pass by the other way—the trail being too narrow for both of us to
pass at the same time—did not help. The pain reverberating up my leg, besieging
my mind, was too similar to Section A. Still, not long after observing a
yellow-stripped garter snake, I made it to bustling Highway 80.
In the meantime, Epsom Salt baths for my feet and general rest
are what I need to regain my body and soul. Being in Lake Tahoe
for another weekend is welcome. The water on the Nevada
shores is especially beautiful today. Lake Tahoe is a
glorious place, truly a gem of California.
I am fortunate to have been able to experience its grandeur in such an intimate
way. I recommend it to everyone who appreciates the outdoors.
* * *
Some thoughts
about adventure
Adventure is costly.
In adventure, the self is both surrendered and gained. Like
love. Adventure is about intimacy. It demands vulnerability. It demands risk.
There are no long-term guarantees. It would not be adventure if all was
guaranteed.
There are a few things that seem necessary to have and to
hold the hope of success. There must be faith—in the potential and adaptability
and even limits of the human mind and body—but more so there must be faith in
something beyond myself. There is a power beyond myself that inspires me, that
helps me to stand time and time again, and to take another step. I can overcome
challenges because God overcame far more as a man, as Jesus Christ. He overcame
for a reason. He overcame to provide a promise of purpose that transcends
mortality. He offers me meaning. He offers me life. I am just asked to trust his
word. I am called to be courageous, to face each day with action. For without
action, there can be no intimacy. Without action, there can be no adventure.
Adventure does not mean comfort, though comfort can surely
be found. Those with eyes to see the glory of God will never want for deep joy
and peace. The surface will suffer a barrage of resistance. At times, joy will
seem distant. Peace may feel illusive. Adventure does not mean perfection. There
will be failures.
But there will also be triumphs. There will be mountaintops
blessing you with cleared perspective and unfathomable beauty. Would such gifts
be as profoundly moving had it not been for the long road leading through and
up from the valley? The road that strains the body and will, the road that
empties the heart, is the same road that fills you with wonder. Adventure is
about being emptied to be filled. It goes well beyond backpacking and outdoor
adventure. It takes many forms. Yet at the heart of it is the richest of lives.
At the heart of it is the richest of loves.
May it be so for you.
