We choose to walk up into the mountains rather than ride.
Each step is a deliberation, attuning thought to the particularity of the place.
Mind, body, and place intertwine.
I feel my connection to the vast earth and sky.
My kinship with fellow creatures, human, animal, plant manifests itself with each footfall.
A chorus of birdsong fills the air, and I am inspired to listen and then to answer with my own song.
I take nothing for granted: the tiny hair on the sprouting huckleberry bush glistens in the sunshine; flies buzz.
We choose to walk up into the mountains rather than ride.
Our feet were designed to touch the ground, leg muscles to stretch and pull in rhythm with our beating hearts.
Our bodies have their own song and dance, joining us to the orchestra of earthly creatures.
Our arms swing, pulsing with each step.
Our hands reach out and grasp.
A stone.
I lift this stone, feeling its mass tug at my fingers, caressing its surface.
I bury my nose into the petals of a wild rose bush and its pungent, sweet scent fills my sinus with perfume.
I pick a huckleberry blossom or a bright yellow dandelion and bite into its flesh, releasing the sweet flavor and nectar fills my mouth.
I choose to walk into the mountains rather than ride.
I want to be fully present while I live.
Reflection on the First Day Hiking the CDT
I walk
A well beaten path leads toward the Big Hatchet Mountains,
Not another human in sight,
Miles and miles of desert in all directions,
Yet I am accompanied by friends and family
Who though not present in body
Abide with me in spirit.
They have made this journey possible
Through countless acts of kindness
Showering me with love.
My first camp
18 miles distance from Crazy Cook,
Insignificant in this vast, open space.
I lay pad and sack under the shelter of a large tree,
One of few in this land of mesquite, cactus, and scrub.
Silence overwhelms, palpably felt;
Yet my inner voice and memories
Sound loud .
I could be on a street in New York City
Hearing sirens and shuffling feet,
The murmur of a thousand voices.
Looking into the night sky
Points of light burn white hot.
The moon rises above a looming ridge.
The trauma of a first day’s hike
Releases from my body,
Sleep descends from above
And earth embraces from below.
Kip Redick 