Knowing

13 July 2017

So It Goes
Jul 23, 2017 · 3 min read

I knew when I woke up. I knew it was over. I gave some leukotape to John and he hiked out before me. I passed by Lazarus on my way out. His foot hurt.

I spent this day debating back and forth about going home. It was unpleasant. The vistas were beautiful, but they didn't hold my attention. Every five minutes I was changing my mind. I ate lunch with Victoria and vented my feelings. She had similar ones but said it was harder to just go home, being from Norway. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to come back if she left now.

Maybe I could just hike to Ashland, I told myself. "But why?" My cruel brain would retort. Something broke that morning. Realistically I knew the only thing that would fix it would be getting off trail to clear my mind. I'd been here before. It was embarrassing, having my mind betray me in such a way. For the first time there was no physical reason for me to get off trail, this was all mental.

Regardless I hiked 23.5 miles on this day. I had good conversations with Hazard and Victoria. It wasn't even dark when I finished the day, and there was trail magic at the end. But I knew I wanted to go home. My brain had broken. We were going to camp at hwy 3 and I was going to hitch out in the morning. Instead a woman named Lionheart stopped by, dropping a hiker off at the trail. She was volunteering at Hiker Hut in Etna, she said. Sure she'd give me a ride to the hostel that night, she said. Maybe I just needed to sleep, I thought. But I knew.

We talked casually on the ride back, about long distance hiking and the addiction that it was and being ok with being a section hiker and getting off trail. Lionheart seemed familiar to me. I realized I'd met her in the McDonald's in Mammoth Lakes the summer before. I was there with Barbie, Caveman, Two Meals, Blossom. My brain had been breaking then too. Lionheart had been section hiking, and yes she'd been there then, she remembered. Strange how that works, how tiny the trail can be.

The hostel was small and there was only one other hiker there. I had a bunk to myself. I took a hot shower. I chatted with the other hiker, who was somehow from Battle Creek. Which was actually true. The trail is so strange.

I slept with my mind going back and forth. Walk to Ashland. Go home. Walk to Ashland. Go home.

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