Dear reader,
Once again, my plans fall apart. I’ve noticed that this time it took no time at all to pick up the pieces. The night before my flight a friend asked me, “What are you hoping to get out of your hike?” I quickly replied that I had no expectations and was surprised by the truth in it.
After one full day and one full night of being back on the AZT I decided to once again get off.
I planned two long section hikes this time around, the first being 85 miles in 8 days and the second 160 miles in 12 days. I know that the lessons and insights that would’ve come from completing this goal would’ve been worthwhile and memorable but something inside of me didn’t want to be doing it. Of course, tears were shed in making the decision but I was proud of myself for not feeling the need to prove something.
My biggest concern immediately after getting off was what people would think when I returned to work after my leave. I had talked a big game, and there were still people I was going to see sooner rather than later who thought I was still out there trudging along, doing something badass and impressive. I knew this feeling was temporary, and thankfully it melted off by the end of the week. Last year it took months for it to fade away! That alone made it all worth it - knowing that my self-worth isn’t all tied up in my accomplishments anymore.
Instead of hiking, I spent a few days with my aunt in Mesa and learned how to do some basic electrical work which made me feel tough in a different way. I also spent time seeing some old friends in the area, which was refreshing - spending quality time with quality people was a nice tradeoff from the solitude I decided to leave behind.
It was hard not to notice how different I felt in Arizona compared to the last time I visited. Originally, the AZT was a way for me to wrap up my time in the desert after living there for two years. I felt there was unfinished business or maybe something I needed to prove to myself or mourn before I could walk away and move on. After all, it was the first place that felt like home after moving out of where I grew up. It was somewhere that held me long enough so I could learn how to hold myself. It suddenly became abundantly clear that the state was no longer my home and I could let it go. There was nothing else I needed to get out of it and I was done.
The weight of this impact hadn’t quite hit me in the moment; it seems like most lessons in my life take some time before they sink in and take root. I always want to learn instantaneously and rush through the process but it seems like these things rarely happen on my time.
Later on my husband met up with me in Arizona since we timed the trip with his spring break. In an unplanned motel room outside the Grand Canyon, due to the weather being colder than our sleeping bags could handle, we suddenly were homesick and wanted to eat the cost of a little airstream with a hot tub that we reserved and head home early. Somehow, this morphed into driving to the central coast of California instead. After spending just enough time in the Grand Canyon to feel like we were actually there, we got back in the car and took off, headed west with our new plan to never reserve accommodations in advance.
I haven’t spent much time in California, but it always tickled my brain to think about. This past summer I planned to hitchhike from Alaska all the way down to the central coast of California but didn’t end up making it past Oregon - Big Sur was the place I was stuck on. I’ll admit, I’ve been a Jack Kerouac fan for a few years now; Big Sur was his first book I read and I was impressionable enough for it to stick in my mind years later.
"So easy in the woods to daydream and pray to the local spirits and say "Allow me to stay here, I only want peace" and those foggy peaks answer back mutely Yes"
We arrived later in the day when it was overcast with showers and happened upon a state park near Monterey. Due to the weather, there was only a small crowd instead of a large one and it felt like we almost had the place to ourselves. We mainly stood in silence and watched the waves come in for a while. I remembered a share in an AA meeting I went to once when someone talked about their Higher Power being the ocean, how there was no question about its power when you’re in a little boat floating in the middle of its vastness. It comforted me to be reminded how small I really am.
Later on that day or the next, I can’t remember exactly, I told Zak that a place like this makes me believe in God. It was a place that I knew I could stay forever and always be content.
The rest of the trip went well. We spent another day driving along the coast, going on little hikes along the way. Gratitude was in abundance everywhere I looked. We drove out and stopped at Pinnacles National Park and had a great time going through some little caves, camped, and ended up in Death Valley the next day. I thought I was completely over the desert but that place still did it for me. Something about it being so remote and the fact that people haven’t come in and tried to inhabit it made it stand out. It seemed otherworldly.
For the last leg of the adventure we visited my sister, brother-in-law, and dad in Salt Lake City. Both my sister and I were cranky for the entire visit but I don’t think it would’ve felt genuine if that wasn’t the case. It was still very nice and we left feeling refreshed.
The drive home was long and was done in one go with no stops. I tried my best to stay awake but ended up sleeping most of the way home. It felt the same as it did when I was a kid and my parents were driving home late from a family party or a vacation, and I was sound asleep in the back, waking up to the familiar turns off the expressway, into the neighborhood, onto the street, and finally up the driveway.
I’ve been home for a full week now and it’s funny how quickly life can change course. I had no intentions of quitting my job and moving back to Michigan for the summer, but here I am. After a few hard days, I am returning to gratitude.
Here are some extra photos from the trip!
