Jane Christensen, OWP 1998
I've found a new love. This new love makes me aware of each delicate part of my body as our relationship develops. It takes time and work to make what we have really meaningful; sometimes all day, sometimes just a few hours. I must admit that the hazards involved are part of the fun. It keeps me alert and on edge. Mosquitoes, though, are the most annoying part of this new adventure. I can deal with the sore muscles and learn how to prepare my backpack for every type of emergency, but those pesky vampires can suck all the fun out of a great hiking trip.
It had been eons, at least 20 years, since I'd done any hiking when I was invited to a 50-mile hike last summer. I foolishly jumped in with both boots and joined the Boy Scout troop as they hiked and camped the Waldo Lake wilderness area. I would never recommend that a novice hiker do what I did, but I would strongly encourage anyone to take a hike. Exercise is the least of the benefits.
Our hike started in the dark on a Thursday evening with three miles to our first campsite. I awoke very early; the sun was tickling the lake's glassy surface as the fog dipped long fingers into the mirror-like surface. I lay soaking up the perfectly blue sky and the serene quiet, when, as if on cue, birds began chirping. I chuckled to myself. I was up before the birds!
The first full day was about 13 miles of trekking through earthy, pine scented forests and meadows; each a tapestry of sights, sounds, and smells that awakened a long-dormant communion with mother earth. I frequently paused to delight in the way the sun and wind played with the maple leaves which resembled a flock of birds flying with precise singularity through the powerful pillars of the forest. Dainty wildflowers brightened meadows. Clouds hung so close overhead, it seemed possible to leap and touch them. The sky itself was an amazing color of blue which set off the brilliant, white, snowcapped mountains draped with deep, green, velvet forests. For me hiking is a religious experience as it opens up all my senses, especially when I wake up in the next morning and find that every muscle in my body is taut with pain, I pray for a miracle, roll over, get on all fours, and then spend an hour stretching my muscles just so I can stand up.
No telephones, no housework, no car...all add up to create a most precious commodity: time. While hiking, I found time to get reacquainted. I had long conversations with myself and with others and discovered new relationships with old friends. This is a virtue that cannot be found in many other sports.
The conclusion of the third day brought me to the end of my rope and to an unexpected benefit. We'd hiked 12 hours and the last three hours had been one disappointment after another. We couldn't find a suitable place to camp for the night. Each promising spot on the map had some flaw when we arrived there, and we were forced to continue on. My blistered toes resembled mini-marshmallows that had been microwaved into puffy, shapeless blobs. It was no surprise when a week later, the toenails peeled off with the dead skin. Dehydrated, exhausted, blistered, and discouraged, we each had to reach deep inside and pull out courage and determination. Everyone hiked silently in their own world of pain, yet it was this very pain that created an invisible bond between us. It was a strong support that enabled us to keep going.
When we finally made camp, I sobbed tears of utter exhaustion. I wanted desperately to call a helicopter to rescue me. That day's journey reminded me of the same desperation I'd felt while in labor with my first child. Then also, I had wanted to quit. I had changed my mind. I didn't want to finish what I had started. It was no fun anymore. Giving birth and that day of hiking are connected events in my life. Both took me to the depths of my soul and strengthened the fabric of my character. This mental exercise is much like what an athlete must go through to excel. I look back and feel such pride knowing I finished the next two days of hiking victoriously. Though I can't say I look forward to the next similar challenge in life, I can say I will recognize and welcome it as a stepping stone toward a stronger constitution.
The training I'm acquiring through hiking gives me a greater sense of self-sufficiency and a deeper respect for the risks involved. I'm not the type to jump out of an airplane, but the thrill of hiking makes me feel alive. Each trip also lets me take inventory of my strengths and weaknesses. And yes, I am going on the next 50-mile hike with the Scouts this August.