As Far as the Mountains Go

As a liar's voice
golden Nebraska grassland
quivers before Fall

Before I started the Trail, someone told me the chances of my seeing another thru-hiker were equal to those of seeing a zebra on the Trail. I didn't see a zebra, but I met two hikers who had started as thru-hikers and decided to take a few days off, then section-hike the remaining miles. I met them at about midday. I didn't tell them this, but I hadn't eaten anything in about a day. No dinner the night before, no breakfast that day, and no lunch yet. Nor had I had much to drink. Maybe a couple one-ounce pulls of water that morning. I had recently resupplied. My pack was heavy with food. I didn't know why my appetite was absent.
I came over a rolling hill in some woods on private land and saw two of the friendliest faces I'd seen in my entire life. For one reason or another, I recognized both of them. They reminded me of family members who I couldn't quite place. Perhaps the transcendence of the Trail related us. Maybe I forced it. Both possibilities are feasible.
"And whose presence do we have the pleasure of sharing?" the man in the orange vest asked.
"My name is Michael Gutschenritter" My head looked down to my shoes. I was exhausted.
"You're the blogger," the woman said.

We introduced ourselves. Chris Miller and Dave. I'd spoken with Chris Miller on the phone. We had tried to meet to hike a section together. After meeting her this day, I wished I had hiked quite a bit with her. When they asked me how I was doing, I suggested we sit together at the picnic table to my left.
I had begun that morning to consider heading back to Colorado within the week. We talked.

Virgil was a Native from Arizona. When I woke up, I told him to look behind us at the horizon. A copper streak spanned the entire earth. A grey tone hummed above the copper until a blazing orange sliced through the bus windows. The skies lightened up a bit. Peaking silhouettes seemed plastered against the western sky and grew with each minute. They began to envelop the crowded bus and the sun rose higher. The yawns and chatter of the waking passengers were unmistakable. The garrulous man behind me started his incessant banter about his younger years, and, for the third time, about how he lived in Colorado Springs when he was in his twenties. He even used some of the same phrases, again making him laugh alone.

The smokers are always the first off the Greyhounds, forcing the rest of us to walk through their rising cloud of smoke. I considered asking one of them for a smoke, but I already felt greasy and rank. A smoke wouldn't have helped. Instead, I walked to a neighboring parking lot and did about 15 sprints until the next bus took off toward Steamboat Springs, my home.

I considered long and hard what my next step would be. Feeling vulnerable and in the midst of a huge decision to leave the Trail, I considered everything cautiously.

I know what keeps me happy, though. I love to experience life in its grittiest form. I love to meet my country firsthand. I love to see the flaws, the vulnerabilities, the stoicism, the beauty of my fellow countrymen. I love to be a part of the woods. I love the rain, the stillness of a naked branch, the winter's blanket of snow, the stare from a dominant owl who's been eyeing me for over a mile of trail. The interactions I have with all these people and nature are the most important aspect of my life. I intend to nurture these relationships as I have been doing. My future holds for me what it holds for most people of my generation: The Unknown. The future, for me, is becoming silly to think about. Summer leads to Autumn, which gives way to a snowy Winter, melting inevitably into Spring, then drying back into Summer. These seasons and transitions are all amplified here in Yampa Valley. And it is great to be a part of. I see myself staying here for some time and working through the seasons. My most consistent goal has been to work with the youth and help them build the same relationships that I have, with people and the wilderness. If I realize that goal, all the better. If my goals change, so be it. For now, I am intensely happy.

Naked for Autumn
like water in the river
aspens seek crystals

Thank you, Chris and Dave.

Natalie, and Spaces Between

I spent the last week laughing. Adam picked me up at a bar in Amherst and we headed out to the Northland Ballroom to catch the last set of Wednesday bluegrass for the night. From there, we went to Stevens Point, expecting the streets to be lively with bustling college students. Not the case. It was dead, unlike the years we attended the University. Had it been like this, we probably would have finished in four years! Adam and I spent the next few days carousing about the town, running into old friends, and fishing on a little stream by Rosholt. The experience begot a slight nostalgia. I've been gone for three years now, but am content with it. Each time I return, I start to think I could move back and slip right back into my comfortable routine. But there's a new scene for me out in Colorado and I love it there.
Natalie flew into Milwaukee and took a bus up to Point for the week. She's considering transferring to UWSP to finish her undergraduate studies. I'm considering doing graduate work just north of Point. It was a perfect time for us to check out the town and see how we felt there. By the end of it, we had a better feel for whether or not we'd be comfortable there for a few years. Neither of us has made a decision, but we're better equipped to make one. We camped out in Schmeeckle Reserve for a few nights, then stayed with my friend Andy Felt and his family for a night of drying out from the rain. It was great to see him. We led a trip together for incoming freshmen to the University. It was a five-day journey down the Namekagon/ St. Croix Riverway and was a huge success. In fact, it bonded Andy and me as well as it did the students.
The next day, Nat and I were walking to a new sculpture park in the northwest corner of town when I got a call, saying the Scmeeckle Rangers found my tent and the director of the reserve had confiscated it along with both of our packs. What's life without a monkey wrench? We walked back to the reserve, had a meeting with both directors and ended up on good terms. They understood our motives and were happy to return our gear, ticket-free. Typically, it would be a $200 fine for those who can't charm their way out of it!
The rest of the week, we stayed at another friend's house. Andrew let us crash on his couch for a few days. He was great for putting us up and it was awesome to see him again. He's the last of the tight group of friends from Point. Throughout the days, Nat and I talked the entire time, but mostly laughed. Having time apart was good for us and we have both developed some prominent understandings of how to have a healthy relationship. I won't get into it on the blog but we are healthier and stronger together than ever before.
Toward the end of the sojourn, Nat and I met with Dan Dieterich, one of my favorite professors. He had a way of engaging his students and letting their creativity bloom. It was great to see him again, if only for the extent of a meal.
The weather in Point was pretty bad. Mostly, it drizzled or poured. Now, back on the Trail, the skies have cleared and the sun shines all day. At last, the fall colors are in full bloom. Trees mound up behind barns, layering back for miles at some places, all full of autumn yellows, browns, bright reds, and deep oranges. People's yards are sprinkled with leaves like a cake celebrating the turn to October. The last skeins of geese bark above me in a "V," stretching their necks south and sometimes west. I haven't heard a crane in several days now. I miss the company of their ancient call. Everything seems different in autumn. Rain is less frequent but is a colder threat than in summer. It's hard for me to separate the senses. The chill in the air becomes visual and the spaces between leaves seem crisp. When the sun beats heavy on my body, there is always an equilibrating zephyr. The ground is covered with pine needles and maple leaves, offering a soft resting ground for the nights. The cows' breath in the morning rises above their faces and the blank stare becomes intimidating. And steam rises when I take a leak under the stars. I like this all quite a bit.
For the first few days after Point, I felt my body regaining its shape, unable to hike 20 miles in a day. But, I'm back in the groove after three days and will soon be able to crank out big miles without a problem. Adam gave me a book to travel with. It's Phil Jackson's Sacred Hoops. It was coincidental or fateful that he gave it to me right then because the content struck me and transferred well into my life and lifestyle. Phil Jackson writes about his introduction to spiritualism, meditation, and leadership. I'd been experimenting with meditation for the past few years with some success and I've been curious about spiritualism for years before that. My role in groups has typically been one of leadership. So, this book gave me the push I needed to incorporate meditation into my life. Being without a schedule, I take about 15 to 20 minutes in the mornings and evenings to meditate. And throughout the days, while hiking, I focus on my breathing, always passing through my thoughts and getting back to the cadence of my breath. For now, it's nothing spiritual and plays a simple role in my day. Ultimately, I'm sure it will play a more directional role in my life. And, as Phil Jackson allowed it to, I would like it play a more profound role in every moment. Perhaps it will intertwine itself into my leadership roles and spirituality.
Tomorrow, I'll head to Wausau and catch a bus to Madison, where I'll stay with Chris Johnson for a night, then head over to our good friend's wedding. Devin will marry Jenny on Friday. Five years ago, I wouldn't have placed my money on Devin being the next groom, but that was a long time ago. He'll be a good husband and family-man. I'm excited and happy for him. He and Jenny are great for each other.
After the wedding, I hope to stay on the Trail for a while, walking through the Chequamegon National Forest and enjoying the changing season and surroundings. I'm eager to maintain rhythm.
More pictures will be up. The link is on the right. I couldn't get them all up, but these are from the very beginning, including the trip from CO to WI.