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