Thru Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is a book that lives solely in my own brain. It is highly respected by me, the guardian, for two important reasons: firstly, because it is cheaper and a little lighter than a physical text, and secondly, on the cover, written in large, friendly letters, are the words Don’t panic. My job is to roam the universe and compile entries for this book. Unfortunately, I have been trapped on a primitive planet in Sector PCT18 Plural CDT Alpha that the natives call the West since I was born. Currently, most of the data comes from that sector. Although it should be noted that the east is mostly harmless.
Recently, we bloggers were asked to write about why we Thru-Hike or what Thru-Hike means to us. One of the most important lessons I have learned while hiking these trails is not to panic. Even if the situation seems bleak, the worst thing you can do is panic. I have learned to face certain death and still keep my head. This is how you get out of trouble when it inevitably catches up with you. This also extends beyond the trail. I take these lessons into «real life.» I know that no matter what unpredictable, chaotic, or bizarre things happen, as long as I stay calm, I have a chance.
See you later and thanks for all the beers.
Hiking has restored my faith in humanity. Being born and raised in the city and watching it get worse and worse really started to weigh on me. It seemed as if everyone was alone. It was really difficult to find good people who really cared about each other and the community. The fact that I have social anxiety made me feel disconnected. I started to think that most people are not good people.
When I started hiking, I quickly realized that people in rural areas and small trail towns are not the same as people in the city. Meeting and interacting with local people has been a great joy in my life and has shown me that there are still tons of people who care. Even on hikes where the locals don’t know what hiking is and may not even know there is a trail through town, they still treat me with respect and kindness.
I have been on sidewalks many times where locals stop and ask me if I need a ride. And when I tell them no thanks, that I am on a continuous path, they offer me a lot of respect. Some people stopped just to make sure I was okay, having no idea what I was doing. An example comes to mind: a local stops and asks me if I’m okay. Of course I tell him what I’m doing. He says, «It’s crazy what you’re doing, but you’re a good man. I don’t have anything to offer you, not even water, but I can come back if you need anything.» I’ve had people come home, make me a sandwich, and come back to give it to me, not because I asked, but solely out of the goodness of their hearts. Sometimes all I need are words of encouragement to give me energy, although a nice cold beer helps too. Every time I leave a trail town, I think, see you later and thanks for all the beers.
Always know where your towel is
Thru Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about towels: A towel is the most enormously useful thing a hiker can have. You can wrap it around you for warmth at the end of the season in Glacier Peak Wilderness on the PCT. You can lie on the sandy beaches of the Oregon Coast Trail while breathing in the salty air of the Pacific Ocean. You can sleep under it under the stars that shine so bright in the New Mexico desert in the CDT. You can use it as a weapon against the vicious dogs on the Pinhoti trail and of course dry off if it’s clean enough to do so. In addition, a towel has a great psychological benefit. A hiker who hikes thousands of miles through the highest highs and lowest lows and still knows where his towel is is clearly a hiker to be reckoned with.
Joking aside, my luxury item is a towel. I mainly carry it for its practical uses, whether to dry off on a cool day after an unexpected free shower or to warm up while walking back to camp at night after soaking in a hot spring. Recently, after being bitten by a dog on the Pinhoti trail, my towel came in handy to have a clean cloth to wash my wounds and prevent infection. Honestly, it also serves a mental purpose, as it comforts me to know that I have it. I’ve hiked without one and even though I don’t use it every day, I’m always glad I have it. When I walk without one, I always wish I had one.
The answer to life, the universe and everything: 42
When I was a teenager I used to say that if I lived to be 22 I would be happy because, well, I’ve seen how alcohol destroys people, and having unlimited access to alcohol seemed pretty dangerous to me. Once I realized that I have self-control, I used to say that if I reach the age of 42, I will be happy. To be completely transparent, I’m not sure why 42. It just seemed like the answer. Now, in my 42nd year of life, I am completing not only an epic, decade-long hiking adventure, but also my Triple Crown. In many ways, this year marks the end of an era in my life and the beginning of a completely new one, which will surely be full of new and completely different adventures. On May 1st of this year I will be 42 years old and this is possibly the biggest and most important year of my life. I called him 20 years ago. This year is the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself forever… when.
Under no circumstances do you allow a hiker to read poetry to you.
Hiker poetry is, of course, the third worst in the galaxy. The second is any lyric from the band ABBA. The worst poem comes from a planet somewhere near Betelgeuse. The title of that poem is “The Banana Song.” Now you have two options: continue with your normal life or tell me what you think of my poetry.
You can definitely hear the sun.
How birds react to dawn
How the sun drives out all the flies.
Buzz… Chirp… Tra La La, the earth sings,
The wind sounds through the grass.
How the trees groan as they stretch,
You can hear when the sun says, “sup.”
How dry the leaves are underfoot,
And the hard ground, boom, boom, thud, repeats.
The sun is heard decisively,
But you have to listen carefully.
To hear the sound of the sun.
However, it can be ghostly,
So you have to listen carefully,
Align your ears and your mind mainly,
Listen to the vibrations that abound,
Although you have to listen carefully
To hear the sound of the sun.
How many trails should a hiker travel?
The answer, 42, doesn’t make sense if you don’t even know what the question is. There are many interesting questions, but the most powerful one is… why? I see the trace as a kind of supercomputer that calculates everything to give me the answer.
It has been said that hiking is a selfish act. I think there is some truth in that. People quit their jobs, leaving more work for their colleagues or management. They leave behind family, friends, partners and sometimes even their own children to do something that is apparently for their own self-esteem. I hike because it literally makes me a better, more capable person, with benefits that include accomplishing a very difficult goal, solving problems, and going through all kinds of adversity, not to mention what it does for connecting with nature and conserving our public lands. The fact is, thousands of us walk and, in the end, we are all better people for it. In turn, this, overall, makes the world a better place. So, although it may seem like a selfish act, I truly believe that it improves the world and brings us closer to nature and each other. That’s what hiking means to me and exactly why I do it.
Now, as I am just a few days away from starting the Appalachian Trail, I am very excited to see what new lessons I will learn. And unlike any other hike I’ve ever done, I have something really great to look forward to after the trail. This year, I will take a walk for myself, for those I meet along the way, and for those at home waiting patiently for me to return. The answer may already be out there, written in big friendly letters, but here on the road, with every step I take, I’m finally learning to ask the right question…
