Photo 3. A cluster of tents on the lawn of Alderbrook Manor. Mine is the middle gray one behind the hammock. You can see how idyllic and peaceful this place is. I enjoy bicycling into town. People are friendly and helpful. I went into the hardware store and told the woman I was hoping she could give me the name and address of the man who sharpened my scissors (whose shop is behind the hardware store) so I could send him a thank you note. She went right to the computer and looked him up and gave me the info. I asked two preteen girls walking down the street where the post office was, and another younger girl overheard and showed me the way by leading me there. I think the "herd" -- the larger numbers -- of thru hikers are catching up with me. Crowding had been one of my greatest fears. But it's been interesting to notice how much I've enjoyed hanging out with people, the quiet often joking but sometimes very serious and vulnerable conversations -- like when I ask how a hike is going and people confide their pains and injuries and uncertainty whether they can go on. A young woman who gave up her tech job and apt in SF, and would face a huge emptiness if she stops the hike. The dilemma of whether to slow down and listen to injuries or try to stay with a robust hiking partner. I love to listen to people confide their vulnerabilities and uncertainties. I feel a special closeness, as I did when a practicing therapist. It reminds me of when I climb over a huge tree fallen across the trail. I sit for a minute straddling it, and along comes a body memory of my girlhood sense of power and joy sitting astraddle a horse--I gaze into the distance and see myself riding that log into the wild beauty around me. I know you are wondering how that rather loose association came up when talking about listening to peoples' vulnerabilities. There's a body memory, when I listen, of sitting in that black therapist chair in my office, my whole bring focused and wanting to listen, understand, help if I can. It's another kind of horse that can carry me deep into another kind of wild beauty. The beauty of human beings. Therapy gave me a window into people's unique beauty. Somehow meetings with PCT hikers have a similar quality.
If you are reading this, you made it to my blog. I want to thank you for finding your way here and for sharing and supporting my walk. I'd love for you to leave a comment but if you are uncomfortable having others see it, it's also great to receive your response by email.
Tomorrow morning at 6am I head out for the trail. My next resupply will be Seiad Valley, just four days. They may be rainy days--and so wet feet days--and that's tough on the feet. So let's pray for at least interludes of sun to dry my gear and socks and feet. Then after Seiad Valley, the next stop will be Ashland, Oregon. I will have hiked all but 157 miles from the Mexico border to the Oregon border. Whoopee!
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