Washington’s Alpine Lakes Wilderness, section WA J of the PCT, is gorgeous. Or so I am told.

Much of it was obscured by smoke. I tried my best to capture some of the few moments it cleared. The haze was persistent and got worse by the day.

Instead of my typical outward focus, I primarily looked inward. Unless the terrain was particularly onerous, my mind wandered.

I meditated on how everything good I have is the result of dreaming unrealistically big at some point. How my biggest fear in life is that I will eventually settle, give up, and become comfortable.

How most of my current dreams are unrealistic. Scary. Conflict with each other. Will lead to disappointment and failure. How I will almost certainly not be able to achieve (or even attempt) everything.

But that I still have to try anyways.

As this walk across the United States wraps up next week, I’ve been told by seasoned hikers to expect exhaustion, sadness, aimlessness, despondency. “Post Trail Depression” is as prevalent an affliction as “Christmas Toes” [1]. It mainly stems, they say, from losing the trail as a central purpose/goal of your life. Feeling like you have nothing to strive for anymore.

Well, bring it on then.

MAC

Milk&cigarettes

[1] Christmas Toes - (after a long hike over the summer) when you can’t feel your toes until Christmas

It may come as a shock to those who live civilized lives but this is about as good as it gets, bathroom-wise, out here

I also have been keeping a growing list of things I want to do when I get home/that I can’t do while hiking. Drawing was on there, I guess I got that one checked off early.