Mountain Musings

My last blog was written around the time I departed Thailand, so these first couple of paragraphs are an abridged chronological catch-up.
After brief visits with family and friends in the States, I spent two months working at Yellowstone National Park. That was followed by a month hiking in the Sierra's, and two days ago I arrived in China.

This blog was written in the Beijing airport, and is being sent from a hotel in Urumxi, the capital of the Xinjiang Autonomous Region. The content is not about China, however (that'll come next time). This entry is the consolidation of scribblings from my time in the Sierra's. So if at times the use of present-tense makes it sound like I'm still hiking, don't be misled. The article's rough draft material came from the California mountains, but the finished product (like so many other products) was MADE IN CHINA.

With every wilderness experience there is a continual dance from the mundane "survival" mode (soggy beloging on a rainy morning that need to be packed, charred pots that need to be washed, chapped lips, cat-holes in the woods, stiff stinky socks) to the "sacred" (singing, dancing, praying, panoramic views, a special place, panther tracks) and back to survival again (cold feet, protecting food, blisters, shelter). Every moment is an integration of being a human of culture, lugging a 50-pound backpack up and down hills, with being wild and at home, frolicking in a swift river like a beaver. -Renee Soulee, "Wilderness Ecopsychology"

This article is mostly concerned with the mundane, but don't get the wrong idea. So fresh from my wilderness experience, I feel my words inadequate to describe the depth of the sacred. But it was there.

The John Muir Trail is approximately 220 miles, and runs between Yosemite Valley and Mount Whitney in the California Sierra's. This is the fourth time that I've hiked this route, although the last time was in 1987. The first time I was only 14, and that stretches back time even further.

The trail has changed some since then, but not considerably. There are more people now, and more regulations. For example, now hikers are required to pack out their used toilet paper. Fortunately, extended time in Thailand has given me alternative methods. "Toilet paper? I don't need no stinkin' toilet paper." Emphasis on stinking.

There are more flies on the trail also, maybe the result of more dung from horse and mule trains. It's a bit disconcerting, but these flies who thrive on waste and filth won't go within inches of my bare feet. I guess it's a good thing I'm not sharing a tent this trip.

Anyway, enough elucidation about elimination. Scat, scat.

Another development on the trail has been the emergence of the 'go-lite backpacker,' hikers who have made a science of minimizing the pounds and ounces of their packs. The plus side to that, of course, is the pleasure of a lighter backpack. A downside is that the minimal food they carry forces them to rush very quickly from point A to B.

This is all well and good, for there are many different ways to walk through these mountains. However, there is a sub-species of the go-lite hiker whom I personally find a bit tiresome. This is the go-lite fanatic, who not only believes that his way is best, but that it would be better for you as well. Within minutes of meeting them on the trail they have informed you of the weight they started with, how much they're carrying now, and what their pack will weigh tomorrow. In the same breath they recite the distance they covered so far today, and how long the trip will take them in total. But most irritating, is that while they are offering this unsolicited information, they are also sadly and superiorly eying my own bulging backpack. They may give lip service to nature's beauty, but 'stop and smell the pine trees' just isn't a part of their philosophy.

On the other end of the spectrum, at least for this trip, lies my own inclinations. My typical day begins with an early wake-up, and then lying comfortably in my tent until it gets warmer. I close my eyes and recapture my dreams, maybe read a bit... When I actually emerge from the tent I leisurely make breakast and begin breaking down my camp. Then I wander on through some of the most enjoyable scenery on the planet, ready to encounter whatever flora, fauna and interesting hikers present themselves. Why hurry? Where am I going? This is it, right here and right now. I hike slowly, with plenty of stops. When the time feels right I find a sweet spot, set up my tent and make dinner. Sometimes I endulge with a small campfire to accompany my nightly hot chocolate. The stars appear and create my canopy, and in the morning the cycle begins again.

But for the most part, go-lite hikers not withstanding, the people I meet on the trail are great. One family has taken a year off from their normal lives and after South America, Europe and South East Asia, are capping things off by hiking the John Muir Trail. A wonderful family, finding a wonderful way to live.

I was enjoying my meandering pace so much, that with two weeks left I restudied my maps. If I exited the trail at Kersarge Pass, I could slow my pace down to 6 or 7 miles a day. This would allow me time for side-trips and layovers.

Maybe if I hadn't done the trail before, I'd be more gung ho to reach its ending point. As it is, I have no trophy to bag, no hiking partner to negotiate with, and no life crisis to solve. I am simply, as Bill Bryson might say, out for a walk in the woods. Ah, have I convinced myself? Yes, I have. Keersarge Pass it is.

I also have the time while hiking to think of numerous things, both weighty and trivial. For example, I calculate that at this point in my life I have had 59 jobs. If I count the year that I did magic shows and temp jobs across America, the total raises to 91 (boy, that was a year for the W-2 forms). For all that employment you'd think that I'd have a small fortune by now.

I'm also seeing alot of ghosts as I hike. Not tangible scarey ones, but the friendly memories of past times on and near this trail. There's even the ghost of a 14-year-old boy, on his first geographical steps into adulthood and independence.

The body's doing ok. No blisters, which is either a tribute to better boot technology or my increased knowledge of foot care. I had an earache for a few days, which led to sudden occurences of vertigo (an unfortunate affliction when crossing logs and mountain passes). But I stuck a piece of cotton in my ear, and both the pain and dizziness abated. A lost filling causd me some nerve pain, but I was able to address that with a temporary filling mixture. How many go-lite hikers carry temporary filling mixture? Ha!

As with most long hikes, I began this one out of shape. By the time I finish, I will be be in perfect condition to begin a hike. Then begins the gradual physical decline until my next wilderness sojourn.

Of course, I'm getting older now. Maybe I'll take this renewed body and maintain it. Maybe I'll eat more nutritiously and incorporate an exercise regime. Yeah, maybe I'll do that. Probably not.

Inspite of increased conditioning, the uphill still gets me at times. Mountain passes are like some people. They can be beautiful and still be bitches.

The mountains are tamer now then when I was 14. To a city-raised kid, the John Muir Trail was a path through remote wilderness. Now I'm familiar with mountains, and I've wandered through areas much more remote. The beauty is still here, but at times it seem like some of the magic has departed.

But at other times, if my mind and spirit are in the right space, all the magic comes rushing back and I realize that it's my consciousness, not the mountains, which determines my experience.

The capacity to experience the natural world as sacred is one of the ordinary privileges of being human. It is our birthright. We need only transcend the limits of human-centered thinking. Beyond these limits lies the wild - the far boundaries of home. -Elizabet Roberts, "The Soul Unearthed"

I took two books with me on this trip; some quotations of John Muir and the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Muir felt that it was his duty to entice others into the wilderness. He considered himself unable to depict the beauty and majesty with words, and could only urge people to come, come, experience it for themselves.

I agree, and as previously noted have foregone the attempt to describe the beauty and spirit of this hike. As a treasured friend once told me in a sublime moment, "words suck."

As to our Nation's founding documents, I urge you to read them for yourself. But first, wash your mind out with metaphysical soap. Use whichever process you employ for that; fasting, meditation, ritualized cognition... Try to reach that open awareness that Suzuki Roshi called 'beginner's mind.' And when your mind is unfilled enough to truly listen, take a read through our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution.

It seems as though we have strayed so far from our original premise in this Country.....

But this is not the time for negative thoughts, at least not for me. I will turn off my light, look at the stars, and fall into a peaceful sleep, protected by the spirit and presence of these mountains that surround me.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. -John Muir

PHOTO OF JOHN MUIR (or me)

TAKEN BY ANSEL ADAMS (or me)