Escape.

There's a lot of time to sit and think when you're out in the woods for long periods of time.
No internet. No TV.
No distractions... just your own wheels, spinning away.

In my late 20s, there are a lot of hamsters up there.
Why are you living from race to race?
Why aren't you married with kids, like everyone else your age?
What's your plan after the summer?
What's your plan at life?
Why don't you give up these foolish dreams and get a real job?

Almost everyone I chat with on the trail wants my job. We talk about the intangibles of life and discuss the "real world".
I cannot deny that I have had some very deep conversations with people I've just met. Hikers are a philosophical bunch.

There really isn't a lot of stability in my life right now.
I guess this is the Tentman way.
75% of the time, I am infatuated with life I lead. I am fortunate to have the experiences I do on a daily basis.
25% of the time, I reprimand myself for the choices I've made in my life. I gave up a good job with good benefits, not once, but twice... for something that wasn't even guaranteed. Reason outweighed by Passion.

My insurance is my good health as a result of my athletic pursuits.
My benefits package includes waking with the sound of birds singing, and a panoramic view that people from all over the world come to view.

Yesterday, I woke at 5 AM, packed my bag, and began my voyage out of the woods from Stint 2, at Liberty Springs Campsite.
I took stock of my options, and decided to hike the long way out.
Hiking up and over Mount Liberty, I stood above tree-line and took it all in, while pieces of clouds blew around me.
Rocks crunched under my feet as I dipped below treeline on my way toward Mount Flume. The mud was untouched from the rain the night before. I was making the first tracks of the day.
No cars, no jets, no voices....just wind and birds.

Fir and hemlock trees scraped my arms. Spider webs hit my face, time and again...I was clearing the way for all of the morning hikers.
I stood on the edge of Flume, legs a little shaky from the height and severe drop-off that I hadn't seen a few days before, when fog was thick as pea soup. Clouds thousands of feet below shrouded smaller mountains, making them look like islands in an opaque grey ocean.

After some breakfast, I began the 5.5 mile descent to Lincoln Woods and the Kancamagus Highway. Evergreens were the pillars of the trail, and I hopped from root to rock to dirt, over and over again. As I made my way down the Osseo Trail, footing became smoother. Evergreens turned to hardwoods. The sun was shining brilliantly, making dew-covered ferns look diamond-studded.

Suddenly, I couldn't feel the weight of my pack. The downgrade lessened, and I began to open my stride. Soon, I was running through puddles, and jumping over rocks. My frontal vision scanned for obstacles in the trail, while peripherally, I admired a raging brook, still steaming from the morning's temperature change.

After 4.1 miles of complete zen, I hit Franconia Brook Trail, which is more like a dirt road. The footing was easy for that 1.4 mile stretch, allowing me to drift off and recall mental images of the morning that no picture could ever grasp.
This is the life I have chosen, and at times like that, there is no second-guessing my decisions.

Depending on the moment, I either revel or despair in the idea that some people never have experiences like this.
I wonder if we ever really "figure things out". Maybe we just live from lesson to lesson, and constantly ponder how things might have been, had we done things just a little differently.
Maybe this is why we all have our own ways of escaping the "real world"...to stop the wheels from turning.

krp

Straight Out' the Notepad: Career Vs. Calling

I don't really know where to start.
In the last two weeks, I've worked 10 days. After each 5 day work stretch, I leave feeling as though I've been on vacation.

It brings to mind this one time I was scanning through the radio stations, while driving to Presque Isle. I was doing the normal thing people do from Bangor to Houlton on 95: zoning out.
My driving coma stopped me on this sermon by Dr. David Jeremiah.
He spoke of how people settle into careers.
Careers pay well. Careers offer upward mobility. Careers can be very stable.

And then there are things you are born to do. Things that pull at you as you sit at your desk.
It doesn't pay well as well. The schedule isn't always set. The benefits are probably lacking.
All of these details do not matter, because the work IS the pay AND the benefit.
This is your Calling.

I've spent the last 2 weeks moving 500 pound rocks out of the ground by hand, doing Leave No Trace presentations, swatting bugs/ picking ticks, getting caught on a mountain in a lightning/hail storm, and seeing rare wildlife.
My calling.
For the first time in my life, I'm working for a REAL purpose. No percentages. No making some rich guy richer because of my hard work. No up-selling.

Now, the sweat off my back stops erosion, and teaches people how the smallest unknown action can adversely change the wilderness. I finish the day feeling like I maybe made a difference that actually matters.
There is no going back now.

Without further ado, this is straight out' the notepad:

May 30: riding bike at 40 mph+ down Pinkham Notch, cell phone flies out of my pocket and skates down 16 in pieces. somehow still works.

May 31: Watched helicopter make multiple pickups of supplies for Madison Spring Hut. Very awesome. I messed up on my schedule as well this day and did 2 Pinkham Ascents (a 4+ mile climb on my bike) before 8:30 am...mind you, this is not even 48 hours after running 31 miles. Ouch.

Jun 1: Did trail work in the Southern Mahoosucs. Electrical storm produced hail and we were just below a ridgeline with tons of metal tools. Had 3 ticks, and the mosquitoes were so bad that you could barely breathe.

June 2/3: On my morning ride up Pinkham, saw 2 moose. Spent day off trail gathering massive rocks and rolling them downhill, using downed trees as barricades in pinball fashion for later use as waterbars. Gigantic complete rainbow just across the road from Pinkham. Cold days. Bad black flies. Evenings spent drinking Double Bag and talking methods of killing fecal mice that make their way to the shelters.

June 5: Spent day and night at Ethan Pond Shelter. I was heading down to the water source and heard a loud noise going up a tree. Way too big for a squirrel. Surprised to see a Marten staring at me. What an amazing creature. Some resources state that to see one of these in the wild is a once in a lifetime experience. Before bed, spent a while by the pond. Very tranquil. Was awakened in the night by a very loud and pissed off sounding bird in the distance. Not sure what it was until the next morning.

June 6: Finished compost training. I went to the pond in the morning and scared a blue heron off. It went to a rock a few hundred yards off, and made the same noise I had heard the night before. Something must have gotten into it's nest.

June 7: Hike to Gentian Pond Shelter for more training. Before bed, we were hanging out and were astounded to see a snowshoe hare come within 18 inches of us. It did not seem at all concerned by our presence. Just before dark, another caretaker and I walked down to the pond to see if we could view any more wildlife at this amazing spot. We were rewarded by the sight of beavers going in and out of their lodge. A couple of them swam just off shore and we took the hint to leave when one of them slapped their tail at us. Saw my first deer tick ever. Scary how small they are. I honestly don't think you would know you had it on you until it was too late.

June 8: After two days of Leave No Trace, the irony of the real world hit us on our hike out. In less than 24 hours, part of the trail we had hiked in on was completely wiped out by a skitter from a logging crew. I am not a tree hugger by any stretch and respect private landowners' rights, but that was kind of a downer.

I have 3 days off, and then it's back in the woods, and I start my 10 day stint. Let the fun stuff begin!

Thanks for following along,
krp