(Editor's Note: Chattanoogan Claire Henley started an adventure of a lifetime on the remote Pacific Crest Trail in April. Along the way, she had many adventures and found herself a husband named Big Spoon).
Please enjoy this special post written by Clair's husband, Caleb Miller (aka Big Spoon).
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.”
-Dr. Seuss
It was more than just a hike, a walk, a journey. It was life continued on a different highway. You met people, saw unique sights, and experienced incredible things. Your feet were your wheels and your life fit into a pack on your back. You were mobile and free.
For the most part, life on the trail was tremendously simple; my wants and needs shifted from those of “real life.” I really honed in on what was necessary to live, and it wasn’t much. I found enjoyment not in TV, or movies, or books, but in raw nature itself, and the people I met in my new life. I am still stunned at the sights I saw, the generosity of strangers, and the beauty that can be found in this world. Mother Earth is astounding in all ways.
To be honest, I don’t really enjoy backpacking. As Claire noted, I’d much rather set up camp in an area that offers something unique and then take day trips in and around that area. But something drew me to the Pacific Crest Trail, and as cheesy as this might sound, I truly believe that I was drawn to this trail to meet and merge lives with Claire. I found my wife, my buddy, and my lifetime partner all wrapped up in one package.
When I was younger I took backpacking trips with my friends, and I clearly remember telling them that I’d never want to do a thru hike. It didn’t appeal to me because of the daily repetitive motion. But as you can see things changed, and there I stood in the Plumas National Forest, 1,235.9 miles into the Pacific Crest Trail. For me it was an impressive feat that I traveled over 1,000 miles on foot, one step at a time.
In the days prior I thought to myself that I wasn’t really enjoying this anymore, and that thought pierced into my mind like a hot iron, one that gradually became hotter and hotter. Along the trail I’ve had those thoughts before, but I was able to shift my mindset and keep going. This time was different.
At other points in my life, if any thought lingered in my head and I ignored it, it would continue to pop up and grow stronger. I needed to reflect on this one, and so I did.
Why am I here? What am I gaining by continuing to hike this trail? Am I still enjoying this? Do I wake up excited to start the day? What is my motivation? If I imagine that Canada is only ten miles away, how will I feel when I get there? Do I need to finish this trail? What are my options right NOW?
I’ve asked myself similar questions at different times in life. To me they are good guidelines for a well-being checkup.
My mind started to process everything and worked overtime. I began to analyze the answers to those questions, but more importantly how I reacted to the answers emotionally. My feelings towards my thoughts have become a compass of sorts pointing me in the right direction. This has proved extremely trustworthy in my life with great benefits, and without a doubt I needed to trust my gut.
As I pondered things I knew that this trail had become a monotonous path of repetitive motion. I felt like a kid in school constantly looking at the clock and waiting for the bell to ring. The miles went by so slowly. But the trail won’t walk itself, I thought.
The level of enjoyment along the way went from periods of intense ecstasy with tears of joy, to a stale state of boredom. It was time for change, and I was ready for that.
I don’t want to paint the picture that this trail was a waste of time. Absolutely not. It was life changing in numerous ways, the most obvious one being that I met my wife and got married. I am extremely happy that I went on this trip and wouldn’t change it one bit. I am merely reflecting on the last few days we had on the trail and how I came to my proposed decision to get off the trail.
I began to think, if it feels good do it. If it continues to feel good keep doing it. Thoughts of adventures off the trail excited me like a kid hearing the bells of an ice cream man coming down the block. Thoughts of hiking another 1,300 miles of trail did not. In my eyes the decision seemed obvious. Transfer to a new trail in life.
It’s incredible to see how influential the trail can be, all based on one’s perspective of course. I thought to myself if we don’t hike the full 2,650 miles then we aren’t considered thru hikers. This was powerful; powerful enough to draw up uncomfortable emotions. But that didn’t last long because I then reflected on what we had already accomplished and gained thus far. So much, so much indeed.
The lessons learned along the journey ended up mattering the most. The great thing is that you don’t have to hike the whole PCT in order to realize those lessons; they pop up sporadically along the way. The trail was just a means of travel. A different highway with a very unique setting and group of people. For me, continuing to hike just to say that I finished was not worth it.
The more Claire and I discussed our plan to get off the trail the better we felt. It was a relief actually, and the road leading to Quincy was our Canadian border. We were elated that we covered the distance we did, and the feeling I felt was that I’ve had enough of this experience and I’m ready to move on to something else. When the horse is dead, dismount, my dad used to say. And so we did. We realized this before going all the way to Canada. As a result, our personal purpose on the trail was fulfilled.
The trail opened my eyes to life’s beauty in nature; at times I stood in awe at the landscape around me, completely encompassed by earth’s masterpiece. And how friendly and generous human interaction can be. That others want to help a cause that they feel connected to without expecting reimbursement.
This trail also forced me to get out of the infamous comfort zone. A zone that can be relaxing and enjoyable, but also an inhibitor of life. And it fortified the principle that one can find peace and happiness in the world without being consumed by our materialistic society. I question my own lifestyle, asking, do I really need all of this stuff?
If I could only take one thing from this entire trip besides my amazing wife, it would have to be two things not one.
First would be to continue to try and live in the present, and if things aren’t going as planned, then to reflect on my current circumstances and act accordingly. This sounds cliché, but it is extremely powerful and comforting.
Second is that things had a way of working out on the trail and off as we entered towns. We got hitches when we needed them, food when we were hungry, and a bed to sleep when we were tired. Worrying did us no good. In fact it was a leech that sucked the energy from our bodies. 99% of the time we didn’t know how we were getting to town or where we were going to sleep. If you’re not careful, these challenges can consume you and take control of your mind with negative consequences on your body. It does no good to worry. If you retain a positive attitude and outlook, you’ll be surprised at what can manifest even in times of perceived desperation.
This trail was more than just a hike. It was a short but intense segment in my life I wouldn’t trade for anything.
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Claire's first book on her adventures while living in Colorado can be ordered here:
http://www.amazon.com/51-Weeks-The-Unfinished-Journey-ebook/dp/B00IWYDLBQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394801373&sr=8-1&keywords=51+Weeks