6/4/17 -- Mile 1293 -- Delaware Water Gap, PA
Dear Andrew, I think the season must be changing; I can tell because everything is new (people, places, shoes) and also I've walked through at least six different caterpillars spinning themselves into a new life. I feel bad for interrupting them, especially since that's what we're all out here trying to do, too. But even with delightfully comfortable new shoes I suspect I'm still pretty much the same ol' Lobo. I am now past the halfway point, and in a few moments I'll be hiking into New Jersey. As a fellow hiker said, this half is like "the second session of summer camp" -- it's a whole new world out here on the trail. Rowdy college kids are out for beer-fueled car camping, begrudgingly enthusiastic Boy Scouts are trekking along en masse, middle-aged section hikers are taking early summer vacations, and at some point I became a grizzled hiking veteran. Maybe it's just because I haven't brushed my hair in two and a half months, but people talk to me like I know what I'm doing, and they're impressed. I say this not to humble brag, but out of sheer self-deprecating disbelief at how deeply I've settled into this life. I cannot imagine an existence in which I am not walking all day, every day. When I walk I think about walking. I dream about walking, and then I wake up and I walk. It doesn't matter whether or not I enjoy it, it's just what life is. Since I last wrote to you I've walked through three states: 18 miles in West Virginia, 42 miles in Maryland and 229 miles in Pennsylvania. PA is infamously despised for its rocky terrain, and my feet are feeling the consequences. Each and every step is onto a jagged rocky spike, and the miles inch by. Then there are the monstrous piles of boulders that require hand-over-foot rock climbing, except also with the weight of a small child on your back. Oh, and of course you have to do all of this in the rain. But what else is new. I'll TELL you what's new--I saw a groundhog in a TREE yesterday! More like treehog, am I right? All jokes aside, I wish it well on its important work up in the sky, where no groundhog has ever gone before. I am also going where no groundhog has ever gone before--to a land of extreme self-reliance and all the glorious self-worth that comes with it. But I'm being rude, I shouldn't assume that groundhogs don't spend their youth in a quest to self-actualize. Perhaps that's what the treehog was looking for after all. But enough about those glorified hamsters, time to leave the rocks behind and, you guessed it, keep walking. Love, Laura P.S. As I was writing this in a civilized church hostel basement a caterpillar FELL OUT of my hair. Just thought you should know.
1 Comment
6/19/2017 07:22:20 am
6/19/17
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
LettersThese are the letters that Laura has sent her brother over the course of her hike. They are faithfully and painstakingly transcribed in their entirety. They are meant to keep people updated on how many facts she has learned about trees. Archives
July 2017
Categories |