In my years of high school ambitions I was just as confused as all my peers- a ball of putty ready to fit the mold of any college. I'm sure we were all intimidated by our classmates who knew "the answers:" the ones who easily developed initiatives to combat poverty in Southeast Asia while getting admitted to Ivy League schools, all with impeccable yearbook smiles. Now out of the haze of high-school I think we all realize that they were the most confused of us all, and probably the most directionless with their lives. In fact, as early as junior year I realized I had no passion to bind my thoughts, and no direction for my life; I was still young. I chose the direction of the woods.
Thanks to the guidance of Bob Kuhn, my English teacher, I struggled through the dense thoughts of transcendentalists, particularly Walden by Henry David Thoreau. The 19th century idealist laid the seeds of curiosity in my mind- that I was living, primal being, endowed with powers of thought and feelings that would be wasted in society's confines. As I waded deeper into self-reliant philosophy, I realized that there is an entire world to explore beyond the boundaries of my city and my university ambitions.
College applications were a gamble. I faced the challenge of deferring a year from a place of high ideals, yet convincing it I was not entirely a shiftless bum. Anyways, I had to illustrate myself on a two-dimensional level, portraying that I was not a cliche granola-fueled vagrant. The application process was, I'm sure, humiliating to us all, so I won't delve too much into my pontifications on paper. I chose to "matriculate" at Brown University, on the conditions of a one-year deferral, and plunged into the wilderness.
My thoughts of exploring the bounds of humanity have only been honed by my year of independence. I spent the summer and autumn working on Squam Lake in New Hampshire, maintaining 50 miles of trails and replacing a 700 ft. boardwalk, which is an entirely different story. I grew into a different and stronger person, cultivating friendships with my trailcrew, the Earth, and the jagged White Mountains.
Since that time, I have been living in lovely Winston-Salem, experiencing the gritty side of city life. Earning money is an ugly but necessary requirement to survival, and with the expenses the A.T. poses, I knew I needed to grind away at getting paid. A thru-hike of the A.T., balancing frugality and comfort costs between $2,000 to $5,000, after purchasing gear- a lofty bill for living in the woods (Hikers proclaim it costs about $1 a mile). Most expenses are derived from food and lodging. Hikers usually resupply about once a week, raiding rural groceries and outposts, and maybe choose to stay a night in a hostel, and of course, the minimal expenses accumulate. Therefore I've been putting forth my time working with my neighbor, a carpenter, and waiting tables at the local Irish pub, sacrificing my old dignity to make money. In the meantime, I have learned many interesting ideas and skills.
I have released all of my plans and ambitions to cyberspace just as much for my benefit as yours. Hopefully, whilst on the trail, I will update my blog regularly to ease your anxieties that I may have been devoured by bears. Also, I've posted my itinerary, so that you can contact me, and hopefully include a package of brownies! But seriously, I'm leaving home to discover more than baked goods, so here you can join me in my experiences on the edge of life.
1 comment:
And after reading this, I said "wow this guy can really write!!!"
I hope you would consider writing a book.
Jan
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