Whiskers Gone Walkabout
2753 Miles and 140 Days in 15 Minutes of Eye Candy
Whiskers Gone Walkabout - PCT 2015 from Whiskers on Vimeo.
When I made this video I still believed Hot Mess was my future instead of just a trail mistake, so pardon the thread of sappy naivete.
Finished, Finally, Mostly, At Last
The best way to read my story is to click on the links above, beginning with "Desert" and ending with "Aftermath".
This writing is my attempt to capture who I was for a stretch of moments in a stretch
of place. Some bits may not be factual, but it will all be as true as I can
make it. It will not be a chronological accounting of my days but will instead
be my impressions of the trail and my place in a world which exists alongside this one but
impossibly far away.
In the
beginning, a decade ago, I heard about the AT, the Appalachian Trail. 2200
miles of bucket list punishment winding from Georgia to Maine. The more I read
about it the more it seemed like my sort of thing. It’s long and arduous but
doesn’t require any sort of masterful expertise. It’s just walking. I got so
excited about it that I even went so far as to buy a custom down sleeping quilt
and fill a spreadsheet full of gear data. I bought a sewing machine and learned
to sew just so I could make my own tarp-tent, ditty bags, rain jacket, and
anything else I could dream up. I made alcohol stoves and read gear reviews and
could have spoken at length about the pros and cons of a wide variety of outdoor fabrics.
And that was
it. I never did anything else. Life got in the way, or rather, I turned away
from any sort of actual thru-hiking plan. Ten years later found me working in the
oilfields of North Dakota. The price of oil had been dropping for months and work was slowing. Some days I’d get to my truck at 5am and sit in it till 11 waiting on
a dispatch before going home. Things had gotten stale between my girlfriend and
I. We shared a bed, we were polite and respectful, but we lived life
separately.
One bitterly
cold day in late January “why not?” slipped into my psyche. At first it was
just a quiet question and when I could produce no viable counter-argument it
became a gut-punch of excitement and anxiety. I re-researched gear, I bought an
Appalachian Trail guidebook, I mentioned it to a few close friends. Then one day,
lost in youtube trail porn, I stumbled on a 90 minute video of two best friends
on the Pacific Crest Trail. I watched them walk through spiny plants and
crumbling dirt. I watched them turn shaggy as they climbed up into snow capped
peaks and danced across icy streams. I watched them disappear amid old,
lichen covered trees like rare woodland creatures. That was all it took. The
scenes they captured, the immense variety of terrain and weather unfolding as
they walked told me that if I was going to attempt just one trail, the PCT
should be it.
I dug out all my gear; the homemade, the store-bought, everything. With all the
time and money I’d spent the previous decade collecting, collating, and
categorizing a plethora of outdoors accoutrements surely a quick order to REI
would fulfill all possible needs. What I found out was, of course, the
opposite. Even the simplest homemade gear didn’t seem as robust and reliable as I'd need, ‘If that stuff
sack fails, well, some Boy Scout troop will discover my body years hence and I
will become nothing more than a cautionary tale told around campfires.'
The custom down quilt, my lawn mowing hat, and a toothbrush I sawed the handle off of were about the only things I already owned that would make the trip. Everything else, from tent and pack to sunglasses and socks, was replaced. And as far as REI went, a titanium spoon, long underwear, and a water filter I would discard after a month and a half were the only appropriate gear they seemed to offer. Everything else came from either expensive cottage industry businesses or Walmart.
And then, faster than I was really ready for, I was on a plane to San Diego and wondering if it was too late to go back to North Dakota.
For the sake of simplicity I’ve divided this blog into separate pages rather than a bunch of posts. They are organized in chronological order in the header above beginning with the desert. If you have any questions or feedback at all please feel free to email me through the form to the right, or message me on Facebook, or just tap me on the shoulder while we're walking down some dusty trail.
The custom down quilt, my lawn mowing hat, and a toothbrush I sawed the handle off of were about the only things I already owned that would make the trip. Everything else, from tent and pack to sunglasses and socks, was replaced. And as far as REI went, a titanium spoon, long underwear, and a water filter I would discard after a month and a half were the only appropriate gear they seemed to offer. Everything else came from either expensive cottage industry businesses or Walmart.
And then, faster than I was really ready for, I was on a plane to San Diego and wondering if it was too late to go back to North Dakota.
For the sake of simplicity I’ve divided this blog into separate pages rather than a bunch of posts. They are organized in chronological order in the header above beginning with the desert. If you have any questions or feedback at all please feel free to email me through the form to the right, or message me on Facebook, or just tap me on the shoulder while we're walking down some dusty trail.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)