The 5-Day Oregon Coast Hike That Changed the Way I’ll Hike the Appalachian Trail

I wake up in the dark. I can feel something thick coming out of my nose. It’s too thick. My headlight went out. I can’t see anything. It could be blood. I can’t say for sure. I make coffee. After two sips, I pour it all into my tent, my new tent. Soaking puddles of hot brown liquid is not how I wanted to spend the morning.
I opened my vestibule and there is a thick blade of grass 10 feet from my tent growing out of the dune. The air smells fresh, if not salty, and I can feel billions of droplets of moisture clinging to my beard.
On the blade of grass there is a drop of dew. I can see the reflection of the moon in the water as it slowly slides, as if afraid of falling, across the surface of the plant. For a brief eternity, everything stopped as I let out a soft sigh of relief.
In that moment, I realize that this will be my life for the next six months on the Appalachian Trail. I know that every day there will be new struggles and mental obstacles that I must overcome. Every day I will overcome all obstacles and wake up in a new and beautiful place.

Last week I went on a five-day training hike along the Oregon Coast Trail. The weather was phenomenal: 65 to 75 degrees and sunny with almost no wind. This is rare to see in the summer, let alone in February. The Northern Oregon Coast is my favorite place in the world, and winters are generally a no-go for hiking weather, so I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t take the opportunity to get out of the city and get some training in. I thought I was training my legs. Turns out I was training a lot more.

the staircase

What training for a Thru-Hike is like for me

Let’s get physical… physical, let me hear your body talk. This life and the world we live in are nothing more than a series of metaphorical stairs: ups, downs, twists and turns. That’s why when I train in the city, I look for stairs: quick to go up, slow, intentional and methodical to go down. Like life and art, it’s about commitment.
Portland, Oregon is a great city to train all year round. There are many parks and hills with many hiking trails. There’s even a 30-mile-long designated national recreation trail within the city limits: the Wildwood Trail. So it’s not difficult to cover miles of trails.

A desert of error

Was I out of my head? Was he crazy? How could I have been so blind? Hiking is inherently stressful. The physical stress that the body goes through every day is a lot, but body pain is still only partially physical, which makes mental strength and toughness even more important.
Anything you can do to focus on the trail before you start walking will decrease the stress you’re sure to face, especially in the beginning.
One thing I do is walk virtually. I grab a map (I use onX Backcountry) and choose a section. How many miles from the trailhead to the first water source? I imagine what the water fountain would be like. How many miles to the next source? Are there any interesting features that would make a good resting place? Where would you probably camp?
I think doing this prepares my brain to better deal with all the micro and macro decisions, as well as any potential obstacles or struggles that are bound to arise.

wild wild country

I believe in creation
I am a creator
creatively speaking
In no uncertain terms
I’m a big solo celebrant.
I believe in creation
I am a creator
I believe in love
I am a collaborator
Searching so desperately
I believe in creation
I am a creator
creatively speaking

But life demands a balance, between waterfalls of fantasy that leave you breathless. Lihat juga hgtgdfgdtr14.

The last part of the pre-trail training is creative because I not only walk thousands of miles, but I also write, record, film and perform.
I always start with a topic or several topics. This allows me to stay grounded and focused so I can be artistically prolific over the course of a walk. I then spend a lot of time selecting the repertoire that best suits my themes for live performances and videos. Once I have a good idea of ​​what songs (or at least what kind of songs) I’m going to want to play for people, I practice, practice, practice.

Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it does make things easier.

I have never, ever considered myself talented, even though I have been described as such. What may seem like talent is a product of love, repetition and arrogance. I live in a world of repetition on and off the trail. I generally don’t like practicing with other people because I literally play the same thing over and over again. I can easily spend hours playing one verse until I get to verse two.
This post is also, in its own way, a training device. I certainly didn’t want to go ahead and start blogging after I’m already down the road, considering this style of writing is completely new to me. It helps that I’m already a poet and storyteller, but I wanted to write several posts before the trail because… repetition. My hope is that when I take my first steps on the Appalachian Trail, I will be better prepared to adequately tell the story of the trail, the land, the people, and myself.

It is very difficult to say goodbye to yesterday.

As I sat on the beach watching the sun sink lower and lower into the horizon, I accepted the fact that this might be my last Pacific sunset. Not because I want it to be that way, but because there is only one true inevitability in life: death. Nature, above all, will never make a single promise. Surprisingly, this fact comforts me and prepares me for my trip to see my first sunrise in the Atlantic.

Coffee Pool (Terza Rima)

I wake up in the cold and the dark.
Something thick from my nose
It exudes sap through the bark of trees.

Maybe it bleeds, so I stop it quickly.
I guess it’s time to wake up at 2 am
I must have that touch of bitter coffee.

My headlight is too dim to show who I am
As I move and spill coffee in my tent.
This morning is starting to look doomed.

Open the vestibule to ventilate
And shout at the waning moon
I breathe the condensation that the sea has sent.

A blade of grass growing on the dune.
Retains a drop of moisture.
As I watch this moonlit dewdrop faint.

A very hard morning leaves me insecure
And this is just a workout, literally a walk in the park.
I know this feeling will pass like cures at dawn.

The next time I wake up in the dark…
My happiness will exude
Like sap through the thick bark of trees.

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