More From my Journal

Something different today. Here are some of my personal favorite excerpts from the journal I have been keeping on this trip. Enjoy.

April 16th (Day one)

After a few pointless middle fingers, one rather-mean fake-out, some improvised vaudeville, and about an hour, Louie and I are laying back in the covered truck bed of our first hitched ride. The feeling is very romantic, scenic vistas rolling by the broken screen window. Out the back window of the truck's canopy, I watch the road fall away. How different it is from looking forward, and yet how much the same. Suddenly, I imagine that I am watching my old life slip away, each yard a distance farther from my old self. To think, I will retrace this whole distance. The weatherman was wrong, the sky is a beautiful blue. I say it's a POG. And today is Easter. You know, if Christ was reborn on Easter...

April 20th (Still thumbing it south)

...a day of reflection. This type of day is ending as it usually does, with me facing into the future, wondering. Who will I be when I return home?

April 26th (At the Kickoff Party)

investments via lack thereof

on a cold day,
a hot shower is twice as good
or three days without shower
make the shower three times as good

birdsong, toad croaking, crickets,
train whistles, traffic, and music,
sound sweeter and more vivid
in proportion to how long since last heard

it's often easier to get along
with far away friends and lovers
than roommates and spouses
seen every day

thus, the goodness of a thing
is derived from the ratio
of its distance to normality

April 27th (Still at the Kickoff)

Worry has given way to excitement. Snow doesn't mean danger, it means adventure! How much more advice from these people can I possibly inhale? We are so close to starting, I am having hallucinations of the future, of waterfalls and snow-capped mountains, of deep forests and sweltering deserts. Perhaps my only remaining worry is that I'll like it too much and I will become obsessed like many of these people here. Although, their passion is inspiring. And their help, invaluable. I am gaining confidence every day, a vital, but overlooked resource. Imagine if I actually pull this off...

May 3rd (Just after the start of the hike. I love this entry.)

I admire plants. There is something in every living plant that I aspire to. So small a beginning, a single acorn becomes the mighty oak. How wild and rebellious plants are, growing in places where botany notebooks say they should not. And how bizarre is that force, that instinctual courage that tells the underground seed, "Reach upwards." Any seed that does not heed this mysterious call dies. Imagine the day that the young plant breaks through the surface dirt, what an inspirational event, to now be something alive, suddenly born into the world. And so they continue to grow up, although never separating from their roots. Indeed, those roots grow deeper, thus a plant is moving forward and backwards at once. Soon, the tenacious tiny seed will brave cold winter with a silent stoicism. For dear life, it hangs on. It catches blessings from the sky and so nourishes itself. Really, does a flower make any sense at all, this brightly-colored, perfume-smelling creation which springs from mere dirt and water? It's like magic! I, like the plant, find myself mysteriously drawn to reach upward into my own potential. I hope I grow. And then, perhaps, upon the coming of spring, I will burst forth from my bulbous form... and bloom.

May 10th (I wrote this in the hiker registry at the Saufley's in Agua Dulce. It's not in my journal at all. But, it turns out another hiker liked it enough to post it online and I stumbled upon it. So, I thought I'd copy-paste it here too.)

People search for home most of their lives. Home is that special place you remember from childhood, with happy Christmases and presents you really did very little to deserve. Home, with those towering, amazing people (you called them parents) who would do and give almost anything for you without expecting the slightest in return. A kind of surreal kindness and otherworldly compassion pervades the air in every person's memory of "home". It is rare, I think, to find such a place as a grown-up. And yet, as young as I may be, it is readily apparent to me that the extraordinary hospitality shown to total strangers who pass by this household transforms it into a home for all, a home as mythical and legendary as memory recalls. Thank you, your generosity is beyond charity, it is a pure form of love exuded usually only between family.

May 18th (Tehachapi)

It is too hot. Too hot for walking, writing, hitchhiking, thinking. Today, I got my resupply box from my mom. It made me so happy. It is the closest I have gotten in recent years to the childhood ecstasy of Christmas morning. But while I was going through its contents, a cop barged in on my joy for fear I was mixing chemicals to make crystal meth or a bomb "or something." Yeah, in a open field right next to the post office. Gimme a break! The clarity that the wilderness provides is astounding. On the day of my return to society, I am instantly reminded why I love and hate it. I hate society because it can be so stupid. Flat-out retarded at times, in ways that barge in on my freedom and my pursuit of happiness. However, I tolerate it because it contains my friends and family and refrigerated foods, whom I love.

May 23rd (Just before Onyx)

...today I noticed I have been changing out here, so slowly I hardly saw it happening, like a sun setting.

May 27th (Just after Onyx)

Climbing Mt. Jenkins, it's starting to get late. The trail is rough, often just dynamited out of the rock. Dark clouds are coasting in alongside me, at even height. The wind is picking up. I'm thinking, "I do not want to get stuck up here tonight." The sun begins to set. The clouds next to me become kissed with pink. Higher clouds turn shades of yellow and orange, painting the roof of this chapel around me. Then, as I'm sitting looking at my map trying to find a nearby campsite, the color scheme shifts. It's as if I've suddenly put on rose-colored glasses. Then, the hard granite beneath me begins to shimmer, reflecting the moving spectrum of colors in the clouds. It's as though part of a rainbow has gotten lost and is wandering over the mountain on its return to the sky. I am literally in a sunset. Words fail to describe it, something magical, momentous, like walking into heaven.

May 30th (Kennedy Meadows)

...today, I let my body heal. For the first time, I am actually consciously impressed with my body. It's ability to adapt to this immense lifestyle change has been remarkable. I admire it, my flesh seems to be at least as intelligent as my brain, spontaneously growing new ligaments and muscles to help me hike or sensing a hole in my skin and growing over it, consuming the wound and healing it... and the body does all this and more all in a perfectly automatic, regulated, and silent fashion, leaving me to quietly contemplate the spirit...

June 5th (Just before the Sierras. Forgive me, this one is kind of weird.)

We have arrived at the crucial point. It is do-or-die time now. You've had the calm, and now dark clouds are rolling in. Since nobody told you what you needed to hear, I am going to say it to you, me, now, and you will read it after. You can do this, Lennard. You are young, surprisingly fit, clever, prepared, ambitious, and surrounded by well-wishers. Face fear right now, stare into its cold darkness and it will crystallize into courage. Courage is strength. Strength enough for you to do this: to lift yourself over tall mountains. You are no longer a flatlander, you are one of Nature. You will not be forsaken. You will succeed, and will live to tell the tale, and live to relive the saga in later times. You are scared, sure, but this is the eve of your proudest hour. Go forth, Trip, and know that I, at least, have total faith in you.

June 15th (Bishop, CA)

Ah, the great poetry of poverty! 'tis true, all my meager existence could afford today was thus: a day in the park. Laying back on green grass, looking up through the branches of old trees into blue skies. In the park, children play and lovers romance before my eyes. On the street, important men hurry to and fro, quite concerned about some business or another. I can hear the flopping of a diving board, indicating nearby fun. The sun is warm and the bugs are absent, so I nap for many hours. I read a good book, as much of it as I want. I come and go from my spot as I please, not worried about the theft of my things, because they are the possessions of an apparent bum, and who would want that dirty junk but me? I've stayed here out of indecision about where to go next, but this is totally fine. Without a job, I am free to be this free. The price of entry to a full and carefree day in the park such as I have enjoyed today is a fee that the richest businessmen in the world cannot afford to pay.

June 16th (Still in Bishop, CA)

I awoke this morning to the sound of a splash. I slept in the park and my tired eyes opened to three girls in the pool, playing, swimming, and giggling in the pre-dawn gloom. All of a sudden, I realized the true meaning of the "innocence of youth." It has nothing to do with crime or sin. At least, that's not the endearing part. What makes children so admirable is their flagrant contradiction to social custom. If these three girls want to go swimming before dawn and "don't know any better" than to go do so, what blessedly wise individuals they are! Their naivete is their strength, and frees them to be true to themselves in a way few adults can be. Today, my only priority is to finish a book, because I like it. Perhaps I should be at work, or hiking, or pursuing world peace, but I say, here's to "not knowing any better!"

June 21st (Lost on the Piute Trail)

...yes, I will face challenges today, but at least I have something to do worth doing! Pressed against a force antagonized to it, my living life feels that much more, well, alive. Think of the immeasurable, unimaginable sights I will wander by today. Each ridgetop, every corner turned and river forded forges yet another memory in my mind that, perhaps, will not be erased until my final day! How real and engaging and focused this life is! Now, to close my journal and boldly amble into (and out of?) life's precious peril.

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Okay, I'm tired of typing, and that's probably enough reading material for you folks back home anyway. Leave me a note, I miss you guys.