Philosophy

Hiking north from Ghost Ranch, NM. Wantsum, Analog, and Smiles.

The Continental Divide Trail has been difficult.

I once believed I was a great hiker. I am no longer certain of it, but I try. And I do what I can to be safe.

With the snow levels right now, being safe has meant cutting mileage and setting up camp  early in the evening in order to prevent having to camp on high elevation ridge lines. It's smart. And it's slow. It's meant having to call it a day because the alternate we took to avoid snow included a river crossing which was absolutely impassable. Sure, we avoided some snow, maybe. But the snow up top was melting so rapidly that the river was chest deep and flowing at an incredible rate. We were defeated, scared, and uncertain how we would cross, if ever. So we camped, hoping that over night the snow would freeze over therefor reducing morning water levels. It did. We crossed a less dangerous river and continued north. Slowly.

We hike with wet shoes for the entire day. We wake up to frozen boots most mornings. It isn't pleasant, but after ten minutes of walking yours shoes will thaw and your feet will warm.

We've taken a great deal of zero days (days in which we do not hike). This strategy has left me feeling like less of a hiker and more often a tourist, but it's smart. And slow. Hopefully much of the snow will melt out and I will be able to make up the lost mileage later in the journey.

Philosophy.

The trail, all trails, are nature based experiences. However, they are nearly equal parts personal and interpersonal experiences. The trail winds from mountain to mountain and between these ranges lie (usually) quaint little towns. It's important to me to interact and be a part of these places. To meet people and do things besides hike and sleep. In the past two weeks I've worked at a folk and bluegrass festival, bar hopped with locals, slept in peoples backyards and living rooms, hitch hiked, and am now attending FIBark (First In Boats Arkansas River Festival) here in Salida, CO. We hooked up with a incredible couple who hiked a large portion of the Pacific Crest last year and have allowed us to stay at their relatives home. They also prepared the best breakfast I've had on the entire trail! To me, experiencing and being open to such kindness is a large portion of why I hike.

It isn't, and cannot be, nature or people. The two concepts are absolutely linked. We live on this planet and we consume the goods that it provides for us. To consider one without the other is an absolutely useless endeavor.

So my forward progress is limited. And in truth, the concept of completing the entire trail and becoming a "triple crowner" has shifted. Those are great things, but they are ego-based. I'd like to complete the trail, and I would like to call myself a Triple Crowner. But I cannot, and will not, rush forward into poor conditions that put myself at risk in order to achieve them. My desire to finish this trail is not greater than my desire to enjoy nature and experience the absolutely vital human elements.

I do believe I will finish, but at the moment, I have a men's professional freestyle kayaking tournament to attend.


* Sorry about the old photo featured on top. It has no snow, and I wish that was the way the trail looked currently. I'm having an issue uploading new ones at the moment. But, it is a killer shot, isn't it?

One Step Leads To Another (Part 3)

To view Part 2, click here.

I may not be bright, but I sure aint dumb.

Sorry, I don't have a single photo of Vail. This is the Sierra Nevadas instead.

Not wanting to make the same mistake again, stuck in a rut in good ol’ Jersey, I flew to Portland, Oregon. New Jersey hadn't worked out thus far, and at the (nearly inevitable) risk of financial losses I decided it was time for a change. The plan was, I would stay with my extended hiker family in Portland while trying to dig up some work and a place of my own to call home. Mega huge thanks to Smiles (and her entire household!), Beef Nuggets, and the all the lovely trash at the Hiker Haus (Panorama, Zana, Morrissey, Clutch, Kristo, and everyone else who made room for me on the couch).

I spent about three weeks in Portland dishing out resumes to just about every single restaurant and coffee shop in the city. As a hiker, this was great. I was putting in miles and got to know just about every inch of the city. As a job seeker, things did not go as smoothly. Portland is a city with a lot of young people looking for work and the few restaurants I did come into that were looking for help were getting upwards of fifty resumes daily. My search for housing was equally difficult; I needed low rent, a short-term or month-to-month lease, and not having a car I wanted to be close to the action.

I began to look into bailout options. I couldn't remain in Portland without a source of income and a place to call my own. Then one day, while searching craigslist in a last-ditch effort to pull things together, I saw that Veggie (AT 2010, PCT 2012) happened to be online. I recalled that she used to work in Vail, Colorado selling t-shirts. Very suddenly, the ball was once again rolling. Veggie contacted her old employer and put in a couple of words on my behalf. I then gave him a call and sent him a resume. His response, "sounds good, Dan. We can get you started and moved in as soon as you get out here."

I booked a flight to Denver that night and arranged to spend a few days in Boulder, CO with my good friend Mouse (AT 2010, CT yo-yo 2011, PCT 2012). Following that short visit he dropped me off here in Vail, Colorado where I have been living and working since.

I've got a stress free job and a great place to live with only a ten-minute walk or a short bus ride to the gondola. I spend my days off and many mornings enjoying the mountain as I train for the 2018 Olympic Games (I've got four whole years, it's in the bag).

Life has been good out here in Colorado.

Best of all, the job also allows me to leave for half a year. In fact, it's encouraged, leaving me free to hike all summer. Job and home will be waiting patiently right here for me to return. It may not be glamorous, but I live my day-to-day life doing what other people spend thousands of dollars to do for a single week.

You sure won’t hear me complaining.

It took a little while to get things sorted out. And arguably, I could probably be doing "better", or "more". I don't care, though. I'm content -- for the time being. I like where I live and I like the lifestyle that living here allows me. One step always leads to another.

It’s hard to say where I, or anyone else for that matter, will end up next.

And oh yeah, I’ll be hiking the Continental Divide Trail this year.