It's unusually cold in North Carolina. Winter in the south is perhaps nature's most dismal show of colors. There is none of the snowy evergreen enchantment of New England; rather, many brown and lonely trees. When the leaves fall in these forests the spaces seem so much wider, and old stands of trees look like wide and empty hallways. Everything is brown, brown, brown and cold. I feel like part of a geriatric pageant.
Which is why I'm excited about the seven months of summer ahead. It will be a welcome change to swim in the warm primal soup, where the velocity of the earth spills the waters higher on the bowl. By the way, in the coming months I will be one of the most southern people in the United States. All of you proud tarheels who drawl your vowels and drink sweet tea intentionally should check your latitude twice if you don't think I'm the real southerner here.
Working in Hawaii is essentially a portal to the plans that follow. The guiding intention of taking time off was completing the PCT, and Hawaii is the preparation for that trial, rather than the trial itself. Conventionally, people begin walking North on the Pacific Crest Trail around late April, with the objective of finishing before October. The intermediary obstacle is snowfall in the high Sierras. Thus, one starting too early meets unmelted snow in the Sierras, and one starting too late meets the obstacle of snow in the Cascades.
In this final week I have a few meager goals: Playing Ukelele, mailing my gear across the country, and saying long goodbyes. Maybe I will write some things too. Including these words. Here are some of the questions that I commonly encounter:
How long is the trail?
Somewhat over 2,660 miles.
How long will it take you?
Until school begins on September 1st.
What will you eat?
Many breads and spreads.
My friend Dangerous Magnolia illustrated an angle of the riddle over which I have puzzled a long time. I had always assumed that time is a path down which we can walk in only one direction. There is a terminus far in the horizon, where our travels will ultimately finish. Looking back over shoulders is possible, but the path is too narrow too turn around, or pick up things we dropped. Now Mr. Magnolia expanded the path to another dimension. Imagine that the path is straight only within our limited perspective, but from a wider glimpse it is clear that we are in fact walking around a sphere, as if walking around the circumference of the earth, only to end right where we began.
Here is also a good opportunity to give thanks:
To my uncle Bill for helping me with some west coast logistics.
To A Neon Leg Mall for loaning me a camera.
To Risk Per Lazer and Jock in Bagel for schooling me in freestyle verse, and who would also be proud to hear how much I've honed my rhymes.
To my Mom who taught me how to live kindly.
To my Dad who taught me how to live easily.
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