I’m a fan of the woods.
There’s nothing like the smell of the pines and the crisp bite of the air on a mountain trail to bring you to your senses, or maybe to make them drift. The past several times I’ve had the opportunity to hike Mt. Katahdin I’ve actually liked to tune down the brainwaves a little and just experience the moment. I go through three distinct stages up and down the mountain that I would like to share with you today. These phases make up a process that is rigorous, rewarding, and healing.
PHASE ONE
I’ve just begun the Hike, and my mind is supremely destination-oriented. With my full tank and sharpened mind I am unstoppable. I have one goal: to conquer this mountain. I shall destroy and defeat this awesome height, and elevate my soul until nothing is above me but the highest clouds and the royal sun. Needless to say, I’m pumped. As I round an early bend and the trees open up, I see the majesty of Katahdin rise towards the blue, shining in the orange sunrise air.
PHASE TWO
The hike is truly underway now, and conversation among the party dwindles. This leaves me to my thoughts, which in the sudden silence seek to inundate my unfettered mind. I dwell over all the little tasks I have on my plate for the week, do a little mental organization, but then my thoughts broaden, and big picture stuff enters stage right. I question my beliefs. I question my life choices. I question my existence. I flourish, and then, nothing. Apparently these thoughts of everything act as an overload for my brain, because they inevitably lead to a meditative state of low cognitive functioning. The trail is taking its toll. Exertion is showing its face.
PHASE THREE
There’s less than a mile to the summit. Of course, this last leg will feel like a thousand miles, but the end is in sight, and this gives us hope. We passed the tree line about a mile ago, and the terrain has transformed from boulder clambering to a obtusely-angled trudge over glacier-crushed four to five inch orange rocks. You see it’s become a numbers game. Every thought is an estimation of how many more steps, how many more breaths, how many more stones, how many more miles, feet, inches to the top. The mind can’t help you now, either the body succeeds, or you don’t make it to your goal. Phase three seems to take approximately twelve thousand eternities.
But then it’s done. All of the phases have been completed as soon as that “Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail” sign is touched. Overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment, I don’t do a thing except let the views wash over me like a beautiful dream. That’s the process, tried and true. Of course, this isn’t exactly a voluntary undertaking, it’s just the natural course of mental events that befall me on the trail. I go with the flow, because it’s a flow that gets me to my goal every time.
I’ll leave you with with a suggestion, which you may take or leave at your leisure. Don’t live your life in phase three. If all you think about is the numbers and how much you have left to do I can promise that you won’t enjoy very much of it. Spend as much time as you can in phase two, thinking about everything and nothing. If you aren’t there get a one way ticket from phase one and you’ll find your way.
I would be amiss if I didn’t end a hiking story with a Thoreau quote so here goes:
“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”
