Saturday, November 1, 2014

Day 363 - October 29th

My water boiled and I whipped of the top of my pot, watched the steam rise. I finish this walk in three days. There are more leaves on the groun than remain on the trees. Stick season approaches and the nights are cold. I get up and walk just the same. Patriot's Path is a network of trails that used to be railroad tracks. Their paths wind between houses and centers of towns so I am walking in beautiful pockets of hidden wilderness. As enchanting as these forests are though, I found myself yearning for the straightforwardness of the roads now [that] I'm so close to the end.

I reached Morristown in the afternoon and went straight for the post office to pick up the package Map Wizard sent me. Inside the box were two new GoPro batteries and a battery charger, much more than I had expected. I immediately went for a cafe to charge them and they worked! I'll be able to record the end now. Thanks, Map Wizard. 

By the time I left the cafe it was getting dark and there was a possibility of rain but these factors don't concern me much these days. After all my training as a camping ninja, urban environments offer many campsites now [that] I know where to look. You just get this feeling when you walk by a potential camping area. It's quieter and there's more space, darkness. And there are trees, the trees signal safety to me even as I stand on the precipice of an urban metropolis that appears hard and unwelcoming from afar. Tonight I walked into the glaring headlights of New Jersey traffic and felt complete joy at having uncovered a side of life I'd never known and made it comfortable, functional, fulfilling even. Small moments of excitement thrill through me as I notice the planes overhead angling lower towards the cities that are closer. I can see light pollution and I know I won't see the stars for a while which will be strange. I even saw a sign that read "New York." These have been the few times I have really noticed splashes of emotion. Somehow I am still surprised by this. I would have thought I would be weeping every day for the past 10 like Andrew, the guy who walked before me. Instead I am swaying like kelp but still anchored--Okay, [maybe] I'm not kelp but I feel there's an ocean all around me and there is no shore, I will never arrive, I could not possible be anywhere else because this is all, I will never arrive, there is no other side. But, of course, there [must be]. My friends and parents will be waiting when I wash up, confused and hurt and sad and the love and joy of seeing them will make me remember, will help me get on with life. 

I am afraid of what will happen to the hope that has grown in me about us, our world, myself. Can I defend it from suffering and cynicism? Will it mature or decay? These are questions that will have to wait. I believe it will hold. I trust, and accept the vulnerability of my stance. 

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