The Mystic’s Guide to Long Distance Hiking
Most people would be surprised by the number and length of long-distance trails in the United States. If you happen to hike three of the longest (Pacific Crest Trail, Continental Divide Trail, and American Discovery Trail) you’ll log in 12,563 miles. One of the oldest and best known is the Appalachian Trail which was completed in 1925. It’s right here on the East coast; 2,185 miles of footpath from Springer Mountain, Georgia, to Mount Katahdin, Maine. And, only an hour’s drive from my front door.
Ways people walk the Appalachian Trail
Every non-pandemic year, 2000 plus “through-hikers” start out with the goal of hiking the entire length in 4 to 6 months. About 200 or so complete the trail in the required one-year time frame. Those that hike south are SOBO’s. Those that hike North are NOBO’s. The “flip-floppers” who do both, start or end their hikes at Harper’s Ferry in West Virginia. The first through-hiker was Earl Shaffer who did his hike in 1948, reportedly to get the military service during WWII out of his system. The oldest through-hiker was 84, recently beating out the previous holder who was 83. The youngest just 5 years old.
Then there are the section-hikers like myself. We do a few days, weeks or more on the trail and then take time off. It might take us years to complete the entire trail, but the sense of accomplishment and enjoyment are not diminished. If there is a disadvantage it’s the time it takes to get your “trail-legs.” By the time I build up to managing more than 10 or 12 miles in a day, my two weeks allotted for hiking are used up. However, like the through-hikers I have a trail-name, a nom de guerre of the woods. People come up with or are given monikers by their fellow hikers like True Grit or Baby Steps. You introduce yourself to others and sign off in the logbooks at the trail shelters using this name. It’s a handy to way to communicate with the community or “trail family” that develops organically as people make their way north or south. Seeker is my trail name which brings us to the theme of this article, long distance hiking from a mystic’s perspective. What is that perspective?
How could hiking be a spiritual practice?
Surrendering to Primordial Awareness
Consider the following. Being in nature for extended periods of time. By yourself. Walking a trail that’s mostly well marked so route finding is not an issue. Occasional “trail magic” from generous locals who offer food and water. Inspiring views of distant mountains and vast valleys. Deep silence and stillness. The palpable presence of the trees, plants and wildlife. Lovely and mysterious fog filled woods. Bright, shining stars at night. And, yes, there are also times of being cold, wet, bone tried, in need of a shower, hungry, sore, and mosquito bitten.
The trail is steep. Surrender. Your pack is heavy. Surrender. Water is scare. Surrender. Sweat is in your eyes, it’s getting dark, the shelter is still 3 miles away. More surrender.
But loneliness at least for this usually solo hiker is rare. The woods will sooth your senses with their presence and good cheer. Other hikers are almost always friendly and companionable when you share a shelter or stay at a hostel. And for the practical mystic you have plenty of hours on the trail to think or even better yet, not to think, but just feel into life itself. Life at its core stripped of the superficial and mundane. There is you and your usual random thoughts and ruminations and then there is Being. Pure, spacious, primordial awareness. The trees, each one you walk by, remind you not to get lost in your thoughts. Wake up and be present to beauty and stillness all around you they whisper.
Then you arrive at your shelter or campsite. Filter water from a spring. Set up for the night. Cook dinner. Eat. Clean up. Put food out of reach of mice and bears. Listen to owls hooting to each other. Sleep. Dream. Next day, repeat. Simplicity. The best of Sparta and Athenea together. The mind’s tendency toward dissatisfaction finds no place to fester. Memories of old hurts and resentments fade in “the green tunnel” the trail burrows through the forest. There’s mental space as you walk to examine the thoughts and beliefs that cause suffering and contraction. You can sense the groove they’ve carved in your body-mind and let them go.
It’s about surrender.
The trail is steep. Surrender. Your pack is heavy. Surrender. Water is scare. Surrender. Sweat is in your eyes, it’s getting dark, the shelter is still 3 miles away. More surrender. You think about some old issue that still troubles you. One more thing to surrender. You are not your thoughts, positive or negative or neither. You are beyond thoughts or feelings or sensations that come and go unbeckoned. You are in Rumi’s field. You are that field and the trees and the hills and streams that sing you to sleep at night. Forget everything you think you know and believe and just be this awareness that does not know, but still knows everything. It’s that simple. And it takes everything you have in you to shift into this simplicity. But the trail is always there, equalitarian, and inclusive as any place you will find in the world. Reminding you how lucky and blessed you are to explore it and yourself. Offering the opportunity to remember who you really are every mile and each day you hike it.
Author’s Note: These pictures are from hiking the AT this past Fall in Pennsylvania. I’ve completed most of the trail in this state, but still have the last 40 miles or so to do that will take me to through the Delaware Water Gap to New Jersey.
