Spiritual Ecstasy - Thursday, July 3

"My father says almost the whole world is asleep . . . and he says only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant, total amazement."
Meg Ryan in Joe Versus the Volcano

What turns you on? Makes you giggle inside? Brightens your day? Beckons you away from all other activities? Causes you unreasonable delight? Puts a smile on your face? Makes your eyes glow? Causes you to sing to yourself? Or out loud? Lightens your step? Gives you unbridled joy? Makes your spirit soar?

For some of us it comes on a daily basis. We love our work. Our families. Our friends. Our art. Our music. Our dance.

Unfortunately, for some it rarely if ever comes and their lives are a tragedy for its absence.

When you meet someone in the midst of their joy it is a special treat. Their eyes are alive. They are animated in thought and action. They see only the positive in the world and are anxious to share it with you. Their joy is contagious.

This is the experience of the PCT. Nearly everyone here is in a state of constant, total amazement. Thrilled to be here. Excited about life. Wanting to share their happiness and joy with the world.

As I walked the trail this morning I occurred to me that when I am hiking in the mountains I am in a constant state of low grade ecstasy. I am just unreasonably happy. I love being here.

I suppose I should let that statement rest and just be happy in my condition, but the science side of my mind wants to analyze this. What causes this? What conditions blend together to create my spiritual ecstasy and keep it fueled for days, and in the case of this adventure, months.

I love to walk. To feel my body move as it shifts it's center of mass and navigates uneven terrain. I love the blue sky, the sun, the brush of a cool breeze against my skin. I love the shape of the terrain, the peaks, valleys, rock outcrops, erosional and depositional landforms. I love the trees, their massive columns or snow contorted forms. I love the flowers, raising their heads to the sun, colorful, amassed in exquisite arrangement that would put a florist to shame. I love the streams and lakes that dot the landscape, their joyous gurgle as they rush downhill or the happy lapping of waves on their shores. I love being nestled in my quilt atop my inflated pad, warm and comfortable while the cold night air presses from without. I love the night wind as it rustles my quilt and adds contrast to the warmth within and cold outside. I love watching the cycles of the moon as it takes it's month to circle the earth, each consecutive night changing in size, shape and brightness. I love being able to roll over in the morning and lite my stove, cook my breakfast and eat it without leaving my bed. I love walking along, my head like an army tank's turret swiveling side to side taking in the scenery while my legs carry me along. I love getting hungry from the exercise, then satisfying it with all the food I can carry. I love laying under my quilt on a cloudless night in timber and seeing the stars twinkling between the soaring trees above me from horizon to horizon.

These exquisite experiences combine to leave me enraptured on the trail and thankful for the good fortune to be able to engage in such joyous adventures.

I rose today at the usual 5am and was moving by 5:30. I had spent another peaceful night by myself, camped in tall timber near a babbling creek. The trail stayed in timber only a short mile or two, then erupted into meadows of flowers all lit by the early morning glow. It rolled gently up and down hills bursting with flora.

I had done 25 miles the day before, so I was concerned I would feel fatigued today. Yet, to put me in position for arriving on time at South Lake Tahoe I needed to get at least 20 miles out of my body today, and with the spacing of water and camping I would need to reach mile 1053 to hit them simultaneously. I had camped at mile 1032 last night, so it looked like a good fit, 20 miles.

My app of choice for navigating the trail has been primarily Guthooks Trail Guides. Since leaving the border 3 months earlier they have been perfectly accurate, correctly showing water sources, camping and geographic features via the contour maps. Today, for the first time it let me down. When a stream is a dead certainty to exist, Guthook shows a water drop on the map that is solid white-filled in. When it is a sketchy stream, one that is seasonal and might be dry it is the same water drop symbol, but only the bottom half is colored white. As I approached my destination, a solid white water drop on the map, I found dry stream beds and zero water. A moment of panic ensued as I had drank my last drops an hour ago and was counting on this source. Checking Guthooks app I saw a seasonal water source three miles ahead, the half filled drop symbol. I cross checked this information with my other source, Halfmile's app. It had the streams the other way around. The dry beds I stood over were marked as seasonal and the next source was shown as a reliable source. I completed the next three miles and found water and camping for the night. It upped my milage to 23 for the day, a bit more than I desired, especially on the heals of a 25 mile day. I quickly set out my Tyvek, sleeping pad and quilt, then lit my stove and cooked a huge dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes. It was supposed to be for both Sally and I, but I had inventoried food the previous evening and found I had been hoarding my stores and could afford to eat more at a few meals. This meal was a welcome one, nearly a quart of taters with chicken bits mixed in.

Shortly after I had finished eating Captain showed up, then Shutter. Before another hour had passed Happy Feet and 4 others were putting up their tents and cooking their dinners.

I was too fatigued to be sociable, so while these young men chatted and laughed I enjoyed listening to their camaraderie all curled up under my quilt. The extra miles I did this evening just meant an easier day tomorrow. I plotted out an 18 mile day to let my body get a chance to recover, then drifted off to sleep.