Near the end of a journey one must confront thoughts about home. Some thru-hikers are like Trail Dancer, who Charissa saw often. He did not want his journey to end and he declared that he would refuse to do more than 25 miles in a day. That would be high mileage back in “my day” but on the low side for the lightweight crew.
Trail Dancer was an exception, most thru-hikers this year seemed to be different. They long for home all the more as the end nears. Despite the PCT being long a goal for Smitty, an avid outdoorsman, he continued high mileage to the end in order to be reunited with his wife sooner.
Charissa always longed for home while out here. Her original goal was to do a continuous thru-hike. Once that was thwarted the only thing to keep her out here was to help me help Cindy. Witnessing the condition of her Mom close up was not an easy task for her. Some of our extracurricular exploits on this journey was done to ease my daughter’s burden. Unfortunately, once we turned around for a second time from the snow encountered in Oregon, nothing out here was going to alleviate her desire for home. That makes her resolve to see this through all the more appreciated.
Cindy always longed for our pets back home, but the general longing that overcomes thru-hikers did not kick in until the San Gabriels. Making sure we stick to warmer climates did much to alleviate that longing. Her critical thinking skills may be somewhat impaired, but she realizes the difference between 80 degree California sun and 40 degree Connecticut rain.
The cold has long been Cindy’s greatest concern. This was true even during our American Discovery Trail journey. Yes, we were hiking through the winter, but a mild winter at that which she handled with greater tolerance than she has for the cold now. Even back then I had doubts about a successful PCT thru-hike for her because of the cold I knew we would encounter in the mountains. Sticking to warmth was the greatest driving force in our extracurricular exploits … but the strategy worked in large measure.
As for me, I have had the most mixed feelings about home all along. On the one hand caregiving at home is a helluva lot easier than caregiving on the trail. I ached to be back home many times. On the other hand I knew Cindy was living a better life out here than she was at home. I’ve dreaded the return to home life for Cindy, though on that front I’ve been formulating many ideas about how I can make home life better for the both of us. The intimacy of trail life is greater even than the intimacy of home. I’ve acquired some valuable applied knowledge.
If you take Cindy’s affliction out of the equation then my longing for home would be the least intense of anyone in our party, perhaps less longing than even someone like Trail Dancer. This is due to a valuable lesson I learned while on the 1977 PCT thru-hike. This was the moment of truth I’ve alluded to occasionally.
Our group of four were in the High Sierra stretch in October. We encountered wet snow overnight and into the morning. The other three were ahead of me that morning when I came to an overlook to the east. Looking down from the steep eastern flank of the Sierra Mountains I could see through the light, snowy drizzle what looked like a quaint village, smoke wafting up from chimneys with New England style appeal. I wanted to be in one of those cozy homes.
I thought very strongly about “why not?” A trail heading down the eastern flank was nearby. Why not take that trail that represented the option, figuratively and literally, of home? After all, there was nothing left to prove. I completed the Appalachian Trail. I handled more challenging conditions on the PCT, including getting lost, hiking through snow and carrying extremely heavy packs. Here I was already hiking two months beyond the summer, perhaps the greatest challenge of all. Oh, how I longed instead to be by the fireplace for some New England style comfort.
I resolved that by finishing the journey there was absolutely nothing I could prove that I did not already know. With that resolution my decision was made … and I headed south on the PCT to catch up with my buddies. How does such a decision follow from such a resolution, induced by witnessing the familiar comforts of home?
With nothing left to prove, I decided that the fulfilling life was not about that after all. A well known pearl of wisdom states that life is about the journey, not the destination. To paraphrase, life is about the experiences, not the proofs. Experiencing the comforts of home always would be there for me; there still was more to experience, both good and bad, from the PCT journey I chose to do with three other friends. I knew my life would be the richer from the experiences of continuing on; I hiked past the trail junction with no further hesitation and left that quaint village scene behind.
You always hear that you should treat each moment as your last. Even for those of us that treasure the journey over the destination that’s easier said than done. There has to be some impetus for savoring each moment. Cindy’s condition provides that impetus, and with that the experiences on this journey to savor: the way she says “yep” when happy; the way that the words chocolate, ice cream, apples or fleece bring a smile to her face (note three of those words are about food, the other about warmth); the way she grips my hand or welcomes my arm around her; the way that people having a good time brings her joy; the way an animal sighting or beautiful landscape fills her with awe.
I have observed all this in Cindy over our years together. Only now, with her last moments not too far ahead of her, have I treasured and savored them like I’ve done on this journey. For that alone this journey has been worth experiencing down to its final days.
In my wisdom Sir….I say…..” you are very blessed”