A Dream of Trees

I meant to write a post several weeks ago, when I had 42 days until the start of my hike.  I was engaged with the field work I was doing at the time, and I did not give myself space to write.  I also was feeling more concerned with the minutiae of the trip- what I'd be eating, where I'd acquire my fuel, and how I was getting from the train station to the trail head.

Yesterday I meant to write that I had five days of work remaining, and exactly one month until I started hiking, but instead I went to Tuesday night dinner, looked around at my friends and housemates, and started to feel the loss of my community strongly.  It may be months, or even years, given the transient nature of the folks who make up my current home, before I see some of my friends again, and the loss burns a bit.  (I suppose melancholy music and wine don't help with these feelings, either.)  Over the past few years I've gotten used to being the one left behind; it's kind of hard to be the one who leaves for a change.

But last night... last night, sometime around 3 am I woke up, so terribly excited that my legs were antsy and my heart was racing.  I'm now four days away from my last day of work, and 27 days away from starting my thru-hike, and I'm occasionally having to catch my breath at the wonder and joy of it all.  Saying that I'm excited feels like a tremendous understatement- I have energy and excitement coursing through my veins, and simple tasks like filing my taxes and cooking dinner are difficult to finish because I ONLY HAVE 4 DAYS OF WORK REMAINING.  I'm opting out of standard society as we all know it, and am instead am forging a path of my own (metaphorically, not literally, as that would violate the Leave No Trace Principles.) through the woods.  In less than a month I'm starting an epic journey, one which will allow me to meander through 14 states, testing my patience, determination, and ability to cope with wet feet, smelly clothing, and food sources that are raided by all sorts of pests, including mice, bear, and possibly other hungry thru-hikers.  I know that this sounds like most peoples idea of a personal hell, but for me it's the beginning of a dream that's been 10 years in the making.

I've acquired my equipment.  I've built my stove.  I've hashed out my rough plan, and talked to other thru-hikers.  I've informed everyone I know of my plans, and I've bought a one-way ticket south.  There's nothing else for me to do except to celebrate, enjoy every moment, and, most of all, attempt, however loosely and poorly, to keep this joy from seeping out of my pores at every single moment, distracting me from the work I still need to do.