I have delayed writing this final chapter for several reasons–I have been tired, I have been traveling, and I have been overwhelmed by the distraction of society.  But more truthfully, I have not written the ending because I don’t know how to.  I can (and will) of course tell you the details of my making it to Canada, and maybe the simple history of my physical journey is all that needs be said–but to me at least, that alone seems lacking.  Perhaps there is no clear ending for this adventure, perhaps the end is yet to come, or perhaps I am obnoxiously intellectualizing.  Each is likely, the third is certain.

The journey has not been easy and I wouldn’t describe myself on it as “happy”. Much of the pain of this long journey has come from knowing it ultimately served no purpose, there was neither grail to be found nor ring to be destroyed. In fact, that pain of purposelessness has been the trail’s great lesson.  My hope is that one reader gleaned some pleasure, perspective or help from my long wandering and wondering.  

Day 114

When last we spoke I was deciding between walking on the side of the highway to be a purist or hitchhiking horizontally to the actual trail.  After some deliberation I resolved to finish the trail and quickly bought 3 cheeseburgers and stuck out my thumb.  Within 3 hitches Papertail and I made it 80 miles east to Rainy Pass.  The first hitch was a very Appalachian looking and thoroughly bearded old man, the second was a couple in the area on vacation, and the third was a Native American tribal lawyer with his dog–all three were very kind, very interested in our journey, and each was on all accounts helpful.  Then, just like that, we were back to the trail!!!

Day 115 [2595-2627]

Today I woke up with a newfound positivity and excitement, I was back on the trail! As I set off, Papertrail told me he was going to try to roadwalk to Steheken around the fire and so we parted ways. That aside I was excited, the last 3 days to the border through the North Cascades National Park were supposedly second to none on trail and absolutely stunning.  But even more poignant than the views were that I would be finishing in solitude, to me this felt right.  

Today would be my last day before the border and it didn’t feel real.  Despite my emotional confusion the trail did anything but meander curiously; today was steep uphill into steep descents, over 7500 ft of ascent with almost 6000 of descent over the 32 miles.  I was simply too tired to spend much time sentimentalizing–a common experience for me these past months.  In fact, despite the stunning views, I had no desire to stop and take them in–I figured they would be better ahead and so I had ought to hurry there.  I guessed there would be trail magic and hikers celebrating at the road ahead, I hoped that the sunset would be magical, and I had this vision of the perfect moment at the end of my journey that would make this hard day so worth it… “I will get all that if I just go fast enough and far enough” I thought to myself. 

The exchange of hurry for future rest, trading time at this view for a better one ahead was one which I had made so regularly on the trail that it had become almost an evening routine.  After all, the best view is usually just right around the bend right??? 

For whatever reason, today I didn’t make that deal.  I stopped on top of a ridge, tired and alone, knowing it may well cost me that magical moment waiting for me a few miles ahead.  I walked off the trail to a ledge, took off my pack, sat down, took out my headphones, even untied my shoes, and chose to have a moment.  In fact I had two moments.  Those two moments were beautiful, I was grateful if not happy, I was content.  It turned out that the clouds only got worse, the night turned cold, and there was no view nor crowd of people–I had missed nothing. 

Laying cold in my tent later that night I was proud of myself for making that moment.  You can often get moments for absolutely free, but every time you choose to have one you will at least anticipate some cost or consequence.  In this case I missed no trailmagic beers, no sunset, and no camaraderie and the only price is my incrementally increased risk of lung cancer—easy trade.  (“moments” sometimes involve moment makers)

After my moment I passed by the previous unofficial monument–I’m almost there!!! As I slept it was super windy and very cold.  I was excited to be indoors in a few days.  

Day 116 [2627-2656]

“By the end of today I will be at the end”

The reality of the moment still hadn’t fully hit me yet, luckily I had another 7k day to keep me busy.  When I woke up it was very cold but I began hiking regardless…in pants! The pants lasted for about an hour then I started sweating once moving uphill.  Mid-morning I climbed up a ledge to get cell service and there were no American towers in range, but I was able to get some Canadian cell service!! I called my Dad to finalize my plans for pickup and then was able to stream some of the Dawgs game. I found their backups to be performing well and then I put away the phone and accepted that I would have no more cell service until I was just a day hiker…

The cascades are absolutely stunning and although it was steep the hiking was beautiful.  The fall has arrived here and what leaves there are to change are in full vibrance.   It rained on me briefly but in mid day it was only water that came down so I was happy.  

As I hiked north I saw several dozen hikers or groups of hikers coming south from the border, every hiker and I exchanged congratulations, high fives, and even a few hugs.  Several that I had passed in weeks previous had hitched ahead while I was still detouring and so I was lucky to see some familiar faces.  I even saw a family of hikers with one kid who had to be under 10–which was crazy.  

As I approached the border there was a 3 mile stretch of blown down trees as the trail tried its hardest to prevent me from finishing—the challenge did give me the satisfaction of a true adventurer.   After trying out various songs or albums to feel cinematic I, embarrassed, put my phone away from temptation into my pack and continued in silence. 

5 miles left, 3 miles, 2 miles, 1 mile.

Then, around a corner I saw it.  Then a few moments later I was there.  There was nobody else there, it was totally silent.  It almost felt fake, it didn’t feel real…in fact it didn’t feel at all.  There was no balloons or confetti, I had brought no fireball shooters, cigars or champagne.  I also had no friends. It was just the monument, the quiet woods, the smell of poorly buried poop, and an exhausted me.  

I had nobody to take my picture so I set up my phone on a timer and took a bunch of myself.  “I gotta get the right picture so I can feel this moment” I must have thought desperately.

Well, I took a lot of pictures.  Standing, sitting, kneeling, climbing, leaning, smoking, naked, with a flag, with a hat, on a video—I felt nothing except for a possible strain in my leg from running to get in frame so quickly.  “I guess this is it” I thought, and then  “Am I a sociopath incapable of emotion” and finally, “stop cosplaying nihilism you dork" to chase the other thoughts away.

Then, overcome with ache and fatigue I laid down and listened to Townes Van Zandt by himself.  That was fitting because I don’t think he seemed to care much about anything either. (Insert cringing at myself for caring so much about not caring)

I thought about walking illegally into Canada but I was too tired, so I cooked my ramen and went to sleep by the monument.  I wasn’t particularly down, but that nothingness felt weightier in the stead of a foolishly anticipated emotional and spiritual payoff.  “You need to be distracted from yourself, for the sake of your psyche I’m glad your isolation is over now”

Regardless, I slept like a baby.  

Day 0 

I’m just a day hiker now, going to his car.

Seeking some moment of significance, I kneeled by the monument and flipped open my pocket bible to read a psalm.  It was a good psalm and that felt better than the rest of my time at the monument. 

Although it was clear enough where I camped, it quickly became very windy and very rainy.  It was my last day so I didn’t even try to keep me or my stuff dry, I just kept moving.  As I kept moving the rain turned into snow.  What a gift that was! Snow just makes everything seem cooler (and feel so).  In this case especially, I wouldn’t even have to deal with the downside of snow, being freezing cold and wet, and so I just felt like a badass.  The snow gave me a sense of completeness; I had come from the oven-like desert bordering Mexico in the spring and was now under snowclouds coming from Canada approaching winter.  The beginning of actual winter weather felt like the trail itself was expelling me and I was glad, and proud, to be so ceremoniously removed.  

As I kept cruising on through the snow I passed many more hikers and gave them my sincerest congratulations and high fives.  The weather did not let up but although I was getting tired, hungry and cold by the afternoon, my spirits were unsinkable.  

With 7 miles to the car I was able to climb and get that same Canadian cell tower and call my mom with the news of my success.  After that I hiked in silence for the last time, trying to soak up my last trail thoughts and say my last trail prayers.  With about 4 miles to go I was spent–after 2670 some miles I was all out of thoughts (just in time).  So I decided to return back to society with some music.  I shuffled across my liked songs, then tried various playlists and scattered albums but none of them felt appropriate.  Finally I landed on a recording of Hymns based off the Poet Priest George Herbert and sung by the Salisbury Cathedral Choir. 

Strange as that may sound to my friends, readers, or other hikers, that was exactly right.  Striding through the snow, confident but not proud, healthy and hungry in each way–this was the way to return, this was the reason to return.  A beautiful choir is truly special, and in many ways what it represent fills the voids which I have wandered and wondered so much about.  To me they represent humanity’s ability to transcend nature and grow towards something higher.  A choir cannot be an individual, rather to participate in a choir each individual’s natural tendency and capability are subsumed into a greater cause. They are a visualization of the very purpose of society.   They remind me that man can do more than avoid evil and destruction, that by struggle and through participation in a higher order he can surpass his fallen nature.  And so it was with the transcendent music of the Church that I finished my time in the wilderness and made my return to society.  

-Mankind, I think, is capable of goodness and beauty–but it’s harder than we think and I don’t think it comes naturally from within ourselves as much as through.  

-We are created as gardeners of creation not trespassers in paradise.

-Just as a gardener returning from vacation might seem like a butcher as he shears his garden, a King returning from absence may seem a tyrant when he saves his falling kingdom.  

-In our time we are somehow both the sapling overcome by briers and the gardener on overlong vacation—our society has neglected us and yet we are also neglecting our society.  We and it are both less than we should be…there is much shearing to be done.  

As I came within the last half mile my Dad had walked out to welcome me with open arms (another biblical image) and within a few hours we were showered and eating pizza. That night and the next my Dad and I shared a few beers, many laughs, and so much food.  It was good.

The next day we drove to Seattle and the day after that I flew home.  And that was it I guess.  

Since then, I have spent a week sleeping and eating and playing with my dog and spending time with family. It has been very good to be back.

My first day home I went to receive Holy Communion at my old high school, I think I may have looked too much like bigfoot and am too well known there to slip in without a commotion, but it was good.  It was very good. I had thought that that should be the end of this journey and I think for now it shall be.  

Although I am done hiking the trail but I don’t think we are done with each other yet.

Until Next Time…

Love,

Treebeard