Many of my friends and family are deeply affected by this past presidential election. As each has asked me for my opinions I have been slow to respond. I did not want to merely react to the news of our President Trump. I needed to step back and try to find some context to our country's great divide. Half of my friends voted one way, half the other, a few third party patriots thrown in for good measure. I find myself exposed to so many differing viewpoints. From immigration to the environment, economy to Supreme Court, no five people seem to agree on anything. How can this be the 'United' States ? After all, we are split incredibly right down the middle. Or are we really ?
I have watched our president elect since the 1970s, when he rode into Atlantic City on his white horse to save the crumbling city by introducing casinos to the east coast. The financial windfall was going to save New Jersey's public school systems, and AC would become the Vegas of the East. Let's just say it did not quite work out that way. Since that time I've always been somewhat skeptical, and admittedly not a fan of his style either. This past campaign was sordid by anyone's standards, filled with allegations and vitriol that should make no American proud. What it was not full of was mature policy discussions. Unfortunately in 2016 we live in a world where it is more important to be 'right' than learned. We yell, argue and litigate our positions. When someone disagrees with our opinions we question their intent, intelligence or patriotism. We belittle those of differing opinions, casting them as unworthy or ignorant. We say so many things to each other, but we seem incapable of doing the one thing that would help us evolve.
We don't listen. Truly listen. We fail to put down our advocacy bullhorns and hear what folks of differing beliefs have to say. Clinton supporters call Trump supporters names, and vice versa. How productive. We don't tolerate, or shouldn't, this behavior from children. Yet it is exactly how this country acts when politics are involved. We turn into repulsive adolescents, stamping our feet when we hear things that we find disagreeable. We look for the comfort of those with similar viewpoints as our own. Better to reinforce our own thinking than to ever question it. Unfortunately we learn little that way, other than to maintain this unhealthy divide of ours. Plato said that rhetoric was intended for persuasion purposes only, never really in the search for justice or knowledge. So instead of discussing how to improve education and healthcare, protecting our environment and our collective future, we listen to name calling. Worse, we seem satisfied to keep it on this level.
So the political season ends. It appears we found out more about who we are as a nation than we learned about our future leaders or policies. The woes of Plato's days persist, we still struggle with self governance and statesmanship. We are too emotional, we have this unending need to feel good, and to think we are 'right.' What we truly need is to be humble. To understand that no one of us has all the answers. That we are better when we lock arms and march together than when we tear each other apart. That people of differing backgrounds and belief systems need to work together to be the great nation that we can be. These are my opinions. It is with this in mind that I encourage all to move beyond this moment we seem stuck in. There is a greater picture here, one we don't often see because we are looking in the wrong places. And so much for us to learn, about our world and each other.
If only we would listen.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Unfinished Business
This has been an interesting year for me. Many of my friends have followed my journey with Paul's Boots. It was an honor to be one of forty people chosen to carry them, and from the moment I was notified I was beyond stoked for the task. I began to watch my diet. Again. Went back to the local gym. I would start small hikes to warm up, and begin to pick up the pace in the two weeks leading up to the trail date. In short, I was regaining some of the motivation that I had lost along the way. In its purest essence, that is what the Paul's Boots Project was all about. And I had bought into it.
About one week prior to the big day our son Adam arrived into town. We both needed to warm up so we took a lovely hike through woods that have seen more bear poop than people, at least by our estimation. Halfway through I felt a little odd. Without being too descriptive let me just say that I realized I was bleeding internally. As Adam waited for me to finish my business a million thoughts raced through my mind. First, we were a good four miles into deep forest so I knew it would take a bit just to get out. Second, I didn't want to say a word, not to Adam or anyone. I did not want anything to derail my big hike the following week. I was also scared. I have battled kidney stone issues the past five years, I was actually hoping that it was just another round of that pain to deal with, and nothing more. The middle of the forest is a tough place for self diagnosis.
We would make the slow hike out. I just told Adam I wasn't feeling great. The next week would be long with anticipation. And miraculously my symptoms had cleared up. So while I was still a little worried I packed my bag and prepared for our twenty one miles of Appalachian Trail. I would have some great friends joining me so I had support if I failed. But as we left Pinkham Notch to begin our hike my health issue was far from my mind. I was really excited to be there that morning. I felt like a kid that day.
So off we went. Adam and my old friend Tom and his son Tal would be there from the beginning, newer friend Doug and his younger son Makia would catch up to my slow pace. And heralded trail runner Kevin must have needed some laughs as he gently escorted my wide load up a very narrow mountain. The Wildcat Ridge Trail had been in my sights for four months. I had read up on its challenges, was as mentally prepared as I could be. Rock climbing at times as much as hiking, I felt myself enjoying the challenges, both mental and physical. I would actually laugh as we reached the infamous chimney, realizing I had built it up in my mind to be much scarier than it was. Things were going as well as I could have hoped. We scaled Summit E, only four more peaks to go up and down and then a hot meal would be awaiting at the Carter Notch Hut. But it wouldn't be me if the story went as planned, now would it ?
Sure enough, after a tough couple of hours, my health issue had returned. Except way worse. On top of Wildcat Mountain I was trying to comprehend what was going on. I was in a state of disbelief. And people were waiting for me. I would continue hiking, but with heavy thoughts inside my mind. Could I keep this a secret ? Should I even be hiking ? Why was I bleeding ? And what the hell was wrong with me ? The walk to Summit D seemed longer than it was. Upon arriving there it also became obvious that Paul's Boots, which I had chosen to wear instead of carry, were starting to fall apart. On top of the observation deck Makia and I attempted a boot repair with duct tape, a funny picture that will actually be in Backpacker magazine. But the boots were the least of my concerns. Everyone else had lunch but I could not eat, a combination of worry and heat. I drank some water. As we continued on I knew I had to let my group know. In general terms I said I wasn't feeling very well. I figured we had to get off the mountain no matter what, I would let them know more at the bottom.
On the way down the boots blew completely apart. By the time I saw the Carter Lakes they were like a mirage. My pack was too heavy, my feet hurt from Paul's Boots. And my mind was wrecked. Kevin looked at my boots and offered to run out to meet Sue and bring me back a new pair. Because he is in amazing shape that was actually a realistic fix. I thought about it for a bit. But I knew my problems were bigger than footwear. I politely said I'd be ok. Tom, Tal, Adam & I would spend a beautiful night in Carter Notch. The winds howled through the notch with vigor. I would hear it most of the night as sleep eluded me.
At four am I gave up, got dressed and went outside. I walked down to the smaller of the two lakes. I had this pristine spot to myself for over an hour. I would be blessed to watch the first rays of sun touch the top of Carter Dome, our goal for that morning. I soon realized that I had drifted into a fairly intense meditation, no longer wrestling with worry but somehow feeling the warmth of those rays of sun. Appreciating how lucky I was to be in that moment. Somehow feeling uplifted in spite of my health. Feeling Paul's Spirit, a man I will never meet in this lifetime but whose story would inspire me. Soon Tom would arrive, and we would share this beautiful place and time. We have been friends for so long, it was just perfect to have him there. He was miffed I had not told him prior to our hike about my condition, though I was not sure what I would have said. We agreed the prudent move would be to hike out that day, leaving some unfinished business on Carter Dome.
The hike out was slow, I was truly disappointed. I tried to appreciate what we had accomplished versus what we left there, but it felt hollow. The ride home was a little hard, knowing the mission had fallen short. The weeks following would show a monster stone in my kidney that would require a couple of hospital trips. I am still going through testing as to why I produce so many. I can assure anyone who is fortunate to not know that you really don't want to. But the doctor also ruled out some scarier stuff and I'll take that as a win. In hindsight I will always believe that Paul blew those boots apart to provide me cover for an early exit. I felt his presence throughout the entire project, but especially at the lake that early morning. Sometimes one special hour can mean a lot in this life.
About one week prior to the big day our son Adam arrived into town. We both needed to warm up so we took a lovely hike through woods that have seen more bear poop than people, at least by our estimation. Halfway through I felt a little odd. Without being too descriptive let me just say that I realized I was bleeding internally. As Adam waited for me to finish my business a million thoughts raced through my mind. First, we were a good four miles into deep forest so I knew it would take a bit just to get out. Second, I didn't want to say a word, not to Adam or anyone. I did not want anything to derail my big hike the following week. I was also scared. I have battled kidney stone issues the past five years, I was actually hoping that it was just another round of that pain to deal with, and nothing more. The middle of the forest is a tough place for self diagnosis.
We would make the slow hike out. I just told Adam I wasn't feeling great. The next week would be long with anticipation. And miraculously my symptoms had cleared up. So while I was still a little worried I packed my bag and prepared for our twenty one miles of Appalachian Trail. I would have some great friends joining me so I had support if I failed. But as we left Pinkham Notch to begin our hike my health issue was far from my mind. I was really excited to be there that morning. I felt like a kid that day.
Sure enough, after a tough couple of hours, my health issue had returned. Except way worse. On top of Wildcat Mountain I was trying to comprehend what was going on. I was in a state of disbelief. And people were waiting for me. I would continue hiking, but with heavy thoughts inside my mind. Could I keep this a secret ? Should I even be hiking ? Why was I bleeding ? And what the hell was wrong with me ? The walk to Summit D seemed longer than it was. Upon arriving there it also became obvious that Paul's Boots, which I had chosen to wear instead of carry, were starting to fall apart. On top of the observation deck Makia and I attempted a boot repair with duct tape, a funny picture that will actually be in Backpacker magazine. But the boots were the least of my concerns. Everyone else had lunch but I could not eat, a combination of worry and heat. I drank some water. As we continued on I knew I had to let my group know. In general terms I said I wasn't feeling very well. I figured we had to get off the mountain no matter what, I would let them know more at the bottom.
On the way down the boots blew completely apart. By the time I saw the Carter Lakes they were like a mirage. My pack was too heavy, my feet hurt from Paul's Boots. And my mind was wrecked. Kevin looked at my boots and offered to run out to meet Sue and bring me back a new pair. Because he is in amazing shape that was actually a realistic fix. I thought about it for a bit. But I knew my problems were bigger than footwear. I politely said I'd be ok. Tom, Tal, Adam & I would spend a beautiful night in Carter Notch. The winds howled through the notch with vigor. I would hear it most of the night as sleep eluded me.
At four am I gave up, got dressed and went outside. I walked down to the smaller of the two lakes. I had this pristine spot to myself for over an hour. I would be blessed to watch the first rays of sun touch the top of Carter Dome, our goal for that morning. I soon realized that I had drifted into a fairly intense meditation, no longer wrestling with worry but somehow feeling the warmth of those rays of sun. Appreciating how lucky I was to be in that moment. Somehow feeling uplifted in spite of my health. Feeling Paul's Spirit, a man I will never meet in this lifetime but whose story would inspire me. Soon Tom would arrive, and we would share this beautiful place and time. We have been friends for so long, it was just perfect to have him there. He was miffed I had not told him prior to our hike about my condition, though I was not sure what I would have said. We agreed the prudent move would be to hike out that day, leaving some unfinished business on Carter Dome.
The hike out was slow, I was truly disappointed. I tried to appreciate what we had accomplished versus what we left there, but it felt hollow. The ride home was a little hard, knowing the mission had fallen short. The weeks following would show a monster stone in my kidney that would require a couple of hospital trips. I am still going through testing as to why I produce so many. I can assure anyone who is fortunate to not know that you really don't want to. But the doctor also ruled out some scarier stuff and I'll take that as a win. In hindsight I will always believe that Paul blew those boots apart to provide me cover for an early exit. I felt his presence throughout the entire project, but especially at the lake that early morning. Sometimes one special hour can mean a lot in this life.
'
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Things I learned from a Walk in the Woods
Things I learned from a hike on the Appalachian Trail
1. 30 pounds on your back changes a lot of things, from scrambling up rock ledges to climbing down steep trails, I felt like I was giving a piggy back ride to a small child.
2. Decisions you make can affect your hike. My decision to wear Paul's Boots was controversial. Many thought me crazy to attempt an ambitious hike wearing another man's hiking boots. The fact that they blew apart only two miles into the hike would seem to affirm that. However, I actually still believe I made the right decision. It was his dream to hike the trail, not ride on a backpack. I put his boots on sacred A.T. soil. I am happy to be able to say that.
3. Mind over Matter. For four months I had studied this hike, every rise and fall, twist and turn, scrambles and chimneys, steps and steep drop offs. There were days just before we left that I actually doubted that I could hike the Wildcat Ridge Trail, that I would be unable to scramble the ledges, climb the chimney, or make the steep descent. And all were no doubt challenging for me. But none were as difficult as I had made them in my mind. Accomplishing this trail with a heavy pack was no small feat for me, and it helps boost my confidence that I can now take on some hikes that I've been reluctant to do. Bottom line, Always believe in yourself.
4. I am not a backpacker. I am a day hiker. Lesson learned.
5. This was my Walk of Life. I celebrated the lives of relatives and close friends who have passed on. I spread my beloved dog Rock's ashes at every summit and all over majestic Carter Notch. I would never have attempted this walk before meeting him, he still inspires me two years after his death. But this walk also celebrated those still in my life, my family & friends who have given so much to me. I had special company on this walk as well. Our son Adam flew home from Chicago to help his pop. My dear friend Tom came up from New Jersey with his son Tal, both more like family than friends to me. I was thrilled to have a newer friend Doug and his sharp ten year old son Makaya with us. They hiked much faster than I but always waited for me to catch up. Then there is this guy Kevin. He is a competitive trail runner, has attempted mountain races that go for 100 miles. It had to be torturous for him to go at my pace. He was by my side when I was fatiguing, and his incredible positivity on my shoulder will never be forgotten.
6. Better to change plans than be rescued. As we arrived at Carter Hut both of my boots had been basically shredded, like a truck tire on the side of the Jersey Turnpike. I woke up at four a.m., walked out to Carter Lake and sat by myself for an hour, staring at Carter Dome. I have too much respect for our mountains to try and hike them with faulty equipment. My heart sank as I realized that we had no choice but to head out at this point and leave the Dome for another day. After a group discussion we all recognized this as our only option. Disappointing, but shit happens.
7. When you are feeling down loved ones pick you up. After my hour of meditation and decision making I started to feel really low. Just then I saw a text my beautiful daughter Sarah had sent me the night before,after hearing from her mother about my difficulties. It hit me like medicine for my soul. She spoke of how proud she was of me, to try something I did not have to do, to accept a physical challenge that we all knew was difficult. It was a beautiful letter from a beautiful woman. The moment I read it I cried, tears of mixed emotions, from being bummed about stopping the hike to being the proudest father in the world to have children like mine. Along with my beautiful wife Sue they make me a very lucky man.
8. Leave the Comfort Zone. Although the trip did not reach its original destination I still classify it as a success. I tried to do something at 55 that I had not done since I was 22. I know I am older, heavier, not in tip top shape, yet I still had a desire to give it a try. I am a wiser person for doing this, a tad sore today in my legs but my mind feeling stronger. And I have a feeling of personal satisfaction in finishing one of the harder trails in our beautiful White Mountains. I dropped eight pounds and that means I need to keep hiking. And I certainly will. I enjoyed our stay at Carter Hut so much I think Sue & I will celebrate our anniversary there. So though it did not have the ending I had hoped for I am so happy to have done it. I was honored to help see a man's boots hit the A.T. I hope to see more of the trail in my own boots.
1. 30 pounds on your back changes a lot of things, from scrambling up rock ledges to climbing down steep trails, I felt like I was giving a piggy back ride to a small child.
2. Decisions you make can affect your hike. My decision to wear Paul's Boots was controversial. Many thought me crazy to attempt an ambitious hike wearing another man's hiking boots. The fact that they blew apart only two miles into the hike would seem to affirm that. However, I actually still believe I made the right decision. It was his dream to hike the trail, not ride on a backpack. I put his boots on sacred A.T. soil. I am happy to be able to say that.
3. Mind over Matter. For four months I had studied this hike, every rise and fall, twist and turn, scrambles and chimneys, steps and steep drop offs. There were days just before we left that I actually doubted that I could hike the Wildcat Ridge Trail, that I would be unable to scramble the ledges, climb the chimney, or make the steep descent. And all were no doubt challenging for me. But none were as difficult as I had made them in my mind. Accomplishing this trail with a heavy pack was no small feat for me, and it helps boost my confidence that I can now take on some hikes that I've been reluctant to do. Bottom line, Always believe in yourself.
4. I am not a backpacker. I am a day hiker. Lesson learned.
5. This was my Walk of Life. I celebrated the lives of relatives and close friends who have passed on. I spread my beloved dog Rock's ashes at every summit and all over majestic Carter Notch. I would never have attempted this walk before meeting him, he still inspires me two years after his death. But this walk also celebrated those still in my life, my family & friends who have given so much to me. I had special company on this walk as well. Our son Adam flew home from Chicago to help his pop. My dear friend Tom came up from New Jersey with his son Tal, both more like family than friends to me. I was thrilled to have a newer friend Doug and his sharp ten year old son Makaya with us. They hiked much faster than I but always waited for me to catch up. Then there is this guy Kevin. He is a competitive trail runner, has attempted mountain races that go for 100 miles. It had to be torturous for him to go at my pace. He was by my side when I was fatiguing, and his incredible positivity on my shoulder will never be forgotten.
6. Better to change plans than be rescued. As we arrived at Carter Hut both of my boots had been basically shredded, like a truck tire on the side of the Jersey Turnpike. I woke up at four a.m., walked out to Carter Lake and sat by myself for an hour, staring at Carter Dome. I have too much respect for our mountains to try and hike them with faulty equipment. My heart sank as I realized that we had no choice but to head out at this point and leave the Dome for another day. After a group discussion we all recognized this as our only option. Disappointing, but shit happens.
7. When you are feeling down loved ones pick you up. After my hour of meditation and decision making I started to feel really low. Just then I saw a text my beautiful daughter Sarah had sent me the night before,after hearing from her mother about my difficulties. It hit me like medicine for my soul. She spoke of how proud she was of me, to try something I did not have to do, to accept a physical challenge that we all knew was difficult. It was a beautiful letter from a beautiful woman. The moment I read it I cried, tears of mixed emotions, from being bummed about stopping the hike to being the proudest father in the world to have children like mine. Along with my beautiful wife Sue they make me a very lucky man.
8. Leave the Comfort Zone. Although the trip did not reach its original destination I still classify it as a success. I tried to do something at 55 that I had not done since I was 22. I know I am older, heavier, not in tip top shape, yet I still had a desire to give it a try. I am a wiser person for doing this, a tad sore today in my legs but my mind feeling stronger. And I have a feeling of personal satisfaction in finishing one of the harder trails in our beautiful White Mountains. I dropped eight pounds and that means I need to keep hiking. And I certainly will. I enjoyed our stay at Carter Hut so much I think Sue & I will celebrate our anniversary there. So though it did not have the ending I had hoped for I am so happy to have done it. I was honored to help see a man's boots hit the A.T. I hope to see more of the trail in my own boots.
Sunday, August 7, 2016
A Walk of Life
In less than twenty four hours I will hit the Appalachian Trail for three days. I received the aforementioned boots Thursday and they actually fit my feet. I believe I will be the first hiker, out of 25, to actually wear Paul's Boots. I will be joined by our son Adam and one of my oldest friends Tom and his son Tal. In addition newer friends Kevin, Doug and his son Makaya will also be along for sections of my hike. I could not ask for a better group to walk with. In addition I have been overwhelmed by so many notes of encouragement from those walking with me in spirit. These messages have meant so much to me as I take on what is sure to be a serious test of my physical and mental abilities. I truly have felt so much love from so many that I am humbled and forever grateful.
What is this Walk really about for me, and why would I volunteer to carry boots from a man who has passed on ? For me there is only one answer to that question.
This is a Walk of Life. I dedicate it to all those who have helped mine and who, like Paul, will be with me on every step.
My parents Walter & Mildred, who brought me into this world and were there for my first steps, I know you will be with me. As will my wife Sue's father Paul, whose daughter has generously allowed me the time to attempt this. I walk this Walk of Life for some dear friends that still mean the world to me. Steve, Linda & Dan, I am counting on your presence to help me climb these mountains. And of course I never would be putting on Paul's hiking boots if it wasn't for my old puppy Rock. That silly rescue mutt showed me the simple joys of walking in the woods, and I will be spreading his ashes throughout this hike. I know he still walks with me, I feel his presence on all of my travels.
So I am taking Paul's Boots for a walk. But I am actively holding the memories of all who have meant so much to me in my life close to my heart, both living and departed, and taking you all for this walk as well. I am walking because I understand how fortunate I am to have this opportunity. I have been blessed in this life with wealth. Not monetary, but the warm riches of sharing my life with wonderful people. Dear family & friends. Feeling and giving love, laughter and the tears, great joys and deep sorrows.
This is my Walk of Life. Thanks for walking it with me.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
If the Boots Fit
Dear Paul,
It has been nearly a year since you passed away. In that time since your heart finally stopped your widow M'Lynn has managed to touch many other hearts with her warm remembrances of you. And though we never met I feel like I know of you, thus I felt a need to write to you today. Some may find it odd that I would pen a letter to a man who has died, who lived his life on the opposite side of the planet from myself. Maybe when we have finished here it will become more apparent why I am speaking to you Paul.
I was looking for hiking boots on the computer about six months ago when a search turned up an interesting page, something about Dirtbag Diaries. And within moments I was reading and listening about your life. You were a gentle man from that land down under, Australia. You were a big guy, over 300 pounds. You loved to hike when your health allowed you to. You enjoyed reading and listening to tales from thru hikers, especially those from the Appalachian Trail. You fantasized about becoming a thru hiker yourself, doing the entire length of trail. But life's realities would not allow that. You had a devoted wife who supported all of these things, and still does.
https://soundcloud.com/thedirtbagdiaries
Damn, Paul, you sound an awfully lot like me. How could I feel so close to you in spite of the fact that we will never meet, at least not in a physical way ? How can listening to your M'Lynn make a heartfelt plea for your boots to make the trip up the A.T. not affect all who lend an ear ? I know you passed last July at only 53. I have lost both old and new friends in that same age group recently. I am 55. Paul, your story and these tragic losses got me thinking that I should embrace the opportunity of Life that I am fortunate to still have. In spite of needing to lose some weight, and physical limitations from an old back and knees, I heard your story and knew one thing very clearly.
So I wrote a letter to the folks at the podcast. And I would find out that REI was also involved in making this a reality. I was told that there were an overwhelming number of responses for volunteers to schlep your boots for 2200 plus miles, sounded like a thanks but no thanks. Guess I was not the only one moved by M'Lynn's words. Four months after writing, and honestly having forgotten about it, I would receive an email, go through a very pleasant phone interview and before I knew it I was on the job.
Of course I would volunteer to carry your boots on a fun chunk of the trail Paul. I agreed to a stretch of approximately 22 miles, or roughly 1% of the entire trail. I am finally a One Percenter thanks to you, Paul. My section begins in the heart of our White Mountains, at the base of Mt. Washington in Pinkham Notch. I am hiking what is known as The Wildcat/Carter/Moriah Traverse. In addition to the distance your boots will gain about 7700 feet in total elevation. This is an incredibly challenging hike. Paul, they keep a list of particularly sketchy trails known as "The Terrifying 25" up here in New Hampshire. Our first 7 miles of the hike qualified for this distinction. It has an assortment of fun stuff, like rock chimneys and wooden steps on sheer slabs, not to mention sheer drops in many directions. Did I mention my fear of heights to you Paul ? Yes, this trail is not recommended in wet conditions or to folks with fears like myself. But I am not wavering, I find strength just writing this letter to you. I have been in the gym regularly since I was chosen for this honor, and when I fatigue I try to channel you, and say your name to myself. People there must wonder who the hell Paul is. Let me show you a little bit of what we are facing Paul.
This is what they call a chimney. It would be hard for me normally, but in August I will also be carrying 3 days of supplies in a heavy pack. I imagine you will hear me call your name a few times that day.
In closing, Paul, I am sincerely honored to carry your boots. I suppose that no matter how hard we try we will always leave unfinished business here when we depart. Listening to your widow I found out how you deferred some of your dreams to help ailing parents, that you were a selfless, kind, caring and giving man. It makes me want to help see your dream through, even in this token way. And maybe it has something to do with my own life and dreams. The more I read about you Paul the more I feel that we are kindred spirits. But please understand the real reason for me writing you today is that I may need some help in doing this, I am a little worried it might be at the outer reaches of my current physical abilities.This will be the most challenging walk in over 30 years for me. I can only promise you that I am going into this with a very positive attitude and a strong resolve. I will set a firm date this week for our adventure. All I ask is that for you to stay close to me on this hike. Let's walk it together Friend.
It has been nearly a year since you passed away. In that time since your heart finally stopped your widow M'Lynn has managed to touch many other hearts with her warm remembrances of you. And though we never met I feel like I know of you, thus I felt a need to write to you today. Some may find it odd that I would pen a letter to a man who has died, who lived his life on the opposite side of the planet from myself. Maybe when we have finished here it will become more apparent why I am speaking to you Paul.
I was looking for hiking boots on the computer about six months ago when a search turned up an interesting page, something about Dirtbag Diaries. And within moments I was reading and listening about your life. You were a gentle man from that land down under, Australia. You were a big guy, over 300 pounds. You loved to hike when your health allowed you to. You enjoyed reading and listening to tales from thru hikers, especially those from the Appalachian Trail. You fantasized about becoming a thru hiker yourself, doing the entire length of trail. But life's realities would not allow that. You had a devoted wife who supported all of these things, and still does.
https://soundcloud.com/thedirtbagdiaries
Damn, Paul, you sound an awfully lot like me. How could I feel so close to you in spite of the fact that we will never meet, at least not in a physical way ? How can listening to your M'Lynn make a heartfelt plea for your boots to make the trip up the A.T. not affect all who lend an ear ? I know you passed last July at only 53. I have lost both old and new friends in that same age group recently. I am 55. Paul, your story and these tragic losses got me thinking that I should embrace the opportunity of Life that I am fortunate to still have. In spite of needing to lose some weight, and physical limitations from an old back and knees, I heard your story and knew one thing very clearly.
I Need to Carry Your Boots Paul
Of course I would volunteer to carry your boots on a fun chunk of the trail Paul. I agreed to a stretch of approximately 22 miles, or roughly 1% of the entire trail. I am finally a One Percenter thanks to you, Paul. My section begins in the heart of our White Mountains, at the base of Mt. Washington in Pinkham Notch. I am hiking what is known as The Wildcat/Carter/Moriah Traverse. In addition to the distance your boots will gain about 7700 feet in total elevation. This is an incredibly challenging hike. Paul, they keep a list of particularly sketchy trails known as "The Terrifying 25" up here in New Hampshire. Our first 7 miles of the hike qualified for this distinction. It has an assortment of fun stuff, like rock chimneys and wooden steps on sheer slabs, not to mention sheer drops in many directions. Did I mention my fear of heights to you Paul ? Yes, this trail is not recommended in wet conditions or to folks with fears like myself. But I am not wavering, I find strength just writing this letter to you. I have been in the gym regularly since I was chosen for this honor, and when I fatigue I try to channel you, and say your name to myself. People there must wonder who the hell Paul is. Let me show you a little bit of what we are facing Paul.
This is what they call a chimney. It would be hard for me normally, but in August I will also be carrying 3 days of supplies in a heavy pack. I imagine you will hear me call your name a few times that day.
“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your
eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities
and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other
life but this.”
― Henry David Thoreau
― Henry David Thoreau
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