A Big Thank-You · Aug 11, 11:24 am by Jennifer Pharr
This update is dedicated to Steve or “Running Moon,” who took four weeks out of his summer to come and hike with me . . . and who is probably the only person capable of putting up with me for that long on the trail.
I met Steve on my first night on the Appalachian Trail, and even with several encounters between here and there, it took me until New Hampshire to actually start hiking with Steve and our friend “Jukebox.” Among other reasons, I saw it as some great experiment to determine whether or not I could successfully hike with others after being on my own for over 1700 miles.
And what did I learn through that little trial run? Well, I learned I was probably much better off as a solo hiker. The whole compromise thing was WAY too hard for me to entirely embrace. Yet, despite my difficulties the group hiking experience did provide a positive tweak to much needed problem-solving, communication, and team-building skills.
Yes, it had been two states of self-betterment and, beyond that, I now have two life-long friends to remember the most beautiful part of the trail with. That’s why when Steve offered to come and hike the High Sierras with me this summer, I jumped at the opportunity. His presence was key not only for accountability over the passes and safety through the river crossings, but for my yearly dose of inter-personal improvement as well. After all, there is no better standard of compatibility than being in the woods with someone 24-7 for close to a month.
One would think that on the second go-around it might be easier this summer, but I quickly learned that I was still a solo hiker at heart, and that this whole compromise thing was still way too hard. Poor Steve! I’m sure that if there had been any roads on the 250 miles between Kennedy Meadows and Yosemite, then he definitely would have bailed. In the beginning I would yell at him for hiking too fast, and after slowing down I would let him have it for hiking close to me. At one point I totally laid into him for passing thru-hikers on the mountain climbs. These people were out here for five months, and they didn’t need to be demoralized by a section hiker blazing by them on every single climb. I would get upset if I didn’t know where he was towards the end of the day, and I would really get irritated when we had to stop hiking in the evening to accommodate his one cooked meal per day (cold food is so much easier!).
Admittedly, I wasn’t exactly a dream to hike with either. Between my constant bathroom stops, impeccable ability to get lost, finicky-eating habits, photo infatuation, and stopping to talk to every single animal we came across, I could be more than my share of obnoxious. Yet, somehow, between the two of us we learned to cope with and accommodate one another and now that our time together is over I am finding it hard to move on without him. Who is going to tell me jokes or stories while climbing to make me forget about the long ascents? Who is going to stop and share long lunch breaks with me in the middle of the day? Or climb rocks in the evening to watch the sunset? Who is going to take pictures when I run out of room on my card or share his food with me when I’m hungry? Who is going to trudge behind me and encourage me when I am deathly ill in the woods? And who am I going to share all of my amazing trail memories with?
I guess I’ll have plenty of time to answer these questions on my own in the woods. But until then I’ll just thank Steve. Thank him for always being there, thank him for putting up with me, and thank him for making me a better person. And a huge thank you to Steve for making the effort to drive me around California for two days and commemorate the end of our month long journey with a day in Napa and San Francisco.
The wine, moreover, the cheese tastings of Napa paired with sightseeing and shopping in Fisherman’s Wharf and San Francisco have left me refreshed, enthused, and eager to continue my journey. It was actually in the Bay area that I was reassured I would never be alone in my journey. It was those fat, whiskered, barking sea lions who, although apparently lazy and sunning themselves, reminded me that my journey was not unique. Every year those yelping masses of muscle make their way from Vancouver down to Mexico and back again. Yes, maybe it is the call of migration that draws me northward . . . that or a rendezvous with some sea lion friends in British Columbia.
Wouldn’t want to let them down . . .
Back to the trail. JP
commenting closed for this article