Just finished reading Into the Wild. I have mixed feelings regarding Chris McCandless, but there is one thing to which I can relate- his "itchy feet."
I get so restless. And I'm never satisfied; the more things I do, the more places I see, the more my feet itch. (Okay, maybe I do need a new phrase for it, because that does sound kinda gross...)
This was the wrong time to read a book like Into the Wild. I'm already going crazy being stuck in flat, boring, urban Chicago. But on top of that, it's winter, so there's nowhere within a day's drive where I can go hike. Unless I want to freeze. Which I don't. Anyway, I've also had a quite a bit of downtime the past few days. When I wasn't reading, I worked on planning my road trip.
The plan is to be gone for 52 days. In that time, I will visit 14 national parks. 12 of those days will be spent canyoneering with Kristin in southern Utah. Then I will head up to Portland to see Paula, stopping at Lassen Volcanic National Pak and Crater Lake National Park on the way. The next month will be spent meandering through Washington, Oregon, Wyoming, North and South Dakota, and Minnesota. By myself. Well, Kristin may join me for a long weekend at Glacier National Park. But for the most part, I'll be alone.
The thought of hiking in the backcountry all by myself is exhilirating. I am genuinely happy hiking alone. I love that I don't have to worry about slowing someone down, or someone slowing me down. I love the flexibility of lingering in an especially great spot or leaving early if I'm just not feeling it. I love spreading my arms and spinning around and singing "The Sound of Music" where no one can hear me. I love feeling like I'm the only person for miles and miles.
Of course, there are moments when I want to turn to someone and say, "Can you believe what we're seeing right now?" And it would be nice to not have to camp by myself. If someone wanted to join me, I would not discourage them. But, if I end up doing this trip solo, that would be entirely acceptable. Actually, more than acceptable. Incredible. Empowering. Life changing.
I've been a little obsessed with Walt Whitman over the past few days, and I'm inspired by his words in "Song of the Open Road:"
1
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)
5
From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
would hold me.
I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.
I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.
All seems beautiful to me,
can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.
I get so restless. And I'm never satisfied; the more things I do, the more places I see, the more my feet itch. (Okay, maybe I do need a new phrase for it, because that does sound kinda gross...)
This was the wrong time to read a book like Into the Wild. I'm already going crazy being stuck in flat, boring, urban Chicago. But on top of that, it's winter, so there's nowhere within a day's drive where I can go hike. Unless I want to freeze. Which I don't. Anyway, I've also had a quite a bit of downtime the past few days. When I wasn't reading, I worked on planning my road trip.
The plan is to be gone for 52 days. In that time, I will visit 14 national parks. 12 of those days will be spent canyoneering with Kristin in southern Utah. Then I will head up to Portland to see Paula, stopping at Lassen Volcanic National Pak and Crater Lake National Park on the way. The next month will be spent meandering through Washington, Oregon, Wyoming, North and South Dakota, and Minnesota. By myself. Well, Kristin may join me for a long weekend at Glacier National Park. But for the most part, I'll be alone.
The thought of hiking in the backcountry all by myself is exhilirating. I am genuinely happy hiking alone. I love that I don't have to worry about slowing someone down, or someone slowing me down. I love the flexibility of lingering in an especially great spot or leaving early if I'm just not feeling it. I love spreading my arms and spinning around and singing "The Sound of Music" where no one can hear me. I love feeling like I'm the only person for miles and miles.
Of course, there are moments when I want to turn to someone and say, "Can you believe what we're seeing right now?" And it would be nice to not have to camp by myself. If someone wanted to join me, I would not discourage them. But, if I end up doing this trip solo, that would be entirely acceptable. Actually, more than acceptable. Incredible. Empowering. Life changing.
I've been a little obsessed with Walt Whitman over the past few days, and I'm inspired by his words in "Song of the Open Road:"
1
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)
5
From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
would hold me.
I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.
I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.
All seems beautiful to me,
can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.
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