Day 36
Leaving Damascus, there was a sense of childlike excitement about the Grayson Highlands. «Pony day is tomorrow!» We keep repeating. I started walking with Hungry, The Dutch Dragon, Ferdinand and PK and we called ourselves The Pony Express. What we didn’t know was that our tram would last much longer than Grayson Highlands.
After a magical adventure through fields of ponies and cows, we decided it was one of the best days on the road yet. Over the next week, we walked around southern Virginia, adjusting to each other’s schedules. We took long lunch breaks next to waterfalls where we folded into nooks of trees and rocks to create nature’s Lazy Boy. I started asking Hungry to teach me Dutch words for things around us and it soon became a lunchtime ritual.
I see I see what you don’t see (I see, I see what you don’t see).
We used ISpy to get me some basic vocabulary. Then I learned numbers, colors, basic verbs, conjugations. Before I knew it, I was walking down the path hungrily saying:
I see a big green tree (I see a big green tree!)
I was surprised at how much I retained and enjoyed the mental challenge of learning a language while facing the physical challenge of walking all day. I thought about the years of my life as a student and how learning was often a frustrating, competitive or embarrassing task. Now I felt the giddy excitement of a new skill without the complicated adolescent embarrassment of a classroom. What a liberating feeling!
My inner child peeks out at random moments, like when I choose to jump over stepped rocks instead of the alternative dirt path. Or when we’re watching the clouds on a rocky cliff and I’m trying to count orange mushrooms in Dutch. Soon, PK joins in and gets a different result than me. It will soon be a competition and what are the rules? We laughed at our immediate reaction to turn everything into a game. We separate pine needles like a game of wishbones, collect wishes, and throw snacks at each other during our lunch break. It’s a simple life.
I often made fun of PK for telling me the health statistics of almost everything. In Marion, he ordered a Shirley Temple and justified it by saying something about electrolytes.
«PK, you don’t have to justify it. You can just enjoy a Shirley Temple,» I told him.
Again, when we were lying in a grassy field under perfectly warm sun (we lay down a lot), he started talking about how lying in the field is good for your cortisol levels and…
«PK…you can just lie on the field. It doesn’t have to be healthy, you can just enjoy the field,» I told him.
That sentiment has been at the center of many conversations with our group. What is the balance between suffering and pleasure? To travel kilometers and enjoy our time? How long is too long to look at clouds? Do we need to read the protein stats on our ice cream or should we just eat it? I have decided to allow my inner child to appear as often as she wants. If there’s one thing kids are good at, it’s being present in the moment. Telling a child to wait five minutes is like telling a child to wait a year. They are here now and they don’t know how to be anywhere else. How beautiful is that?
As we staggered through the heat of the cars, I finally felt like a hiker. Miserable, but sharing the misery with a group of hikers who cared about each other, made fun of each other, and hiked together day and night. It feels good to know you are in the right place with the right people. Even after the hardest days, I would look around our camp and know there was no other place I would rather be.
This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any products or services you purchase using links in articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price they would otherwise pay, and their purchase helps support The Trek’s ongoing goal of bringing you quality backpacking information and advice. Thank you for your support!
For more information, visit the About page of this site.
