This morning I discovered a very wonderful message on the Summit Post bulletin board by a fellow from Los Angeles who calls himself friendowl. I felt compelled to share friendowl’s post here on this blog; one might presume that friendowl had just begun a trek of the Pacific Crest Trail at the Mexican border.
A border patrol agent pulled up next to me. He rolled down his window. “You know, I’ve seen other people doing this walk. I just don’t get it… I mean, what do you get out of it?”, he asked. There I was, only a day from the border, and for the first time someone had asked me the direct question, “Why?”. I couldn’t articulate a proper response. “It’s just a great experience…”, I told him, “It’s a wonderful feeling of freedom.” He squinted at me, like that made no sense to him. What he really seemed to want was reassurance that he wasn’t missing some great truth, and that’s what he seemed to get. He drove off shaking his head. Further down the road, I posed the question again to myself. “Why?” There were an infinite number of choices to take in life, a million routes to happiness, why had I picked this one? I suppose I always knew the answer, but like so many things, that answer was complicated. I thought of all the things I could have told the man:
I hike the trail because life is made of experiences, and I hope to have as many as possible.
I hike the trail because unfulfilled dreams become regrets, and I intend to have as few as possible.
I hike the trail to share in something unique that few have known, or will ever know.
I hike the trail to experience beauty, to be immersed in it.
I hike the trail to see and to better understand the country I live in.
I hike the trail to learn about my own limitations.
I hike the trail to learn about how the world works, and to better understand my place in the natural order of things.
I hike the trail to avoid living a life that has already been played out by countless others.
I hike the trail to think, to dream, to imagine and to reflect, unencumbered by the distractions of modern life.
I hike the trail to endure mental and physical hardships, and perhaps become stronger as a result.
I hike the trail to learn what is truly important in my life, in any life.
I hike the trail to separate my wants from my needs.
I hike the trail to meet people, and learn from them.
I hike the trail to live an active life rather than a passive one.
I hike the trail to gain perspective, not only to think, but to live “outside the box”.
I hike the trail to be able to share the experience with others who either cannot or do not care to do it themselves.
I hike the trail to achieve a level of physical conditioning I’ve never thought possible.
I hike the trail to experience things that cannot be described with words or pictures.
I hike the trail to live not in fear, but in wonder.
But I was fairly certain that even if I had told [the border patrolman] all those things, he still would not have understood. And frankly, I would not have fully explained anything. What I really should have told him was that if he had to ask, I could never provide a sufficient answer. It was a question that could only be answered within. Finally, I thought that maybe all those things were just details, that hiking the trail wasn’t a thing to be thought of that way. Maybe it isn’t what we do but rather who we are that is important. I hike the trail not to “do something”, but to “become something”… to become someone. I didn’t know if that person I’d become was good or bad, but there it was - I was someone else.
Eloquent thoughts. I believe friendowl is right to say that one can never provide a sufficient answer. It can only be the choice of the questioner to think beyond his or her own personal treadmill to discover the answer for themselves. One has to decide whether to walk the trail and discover their own Bootism* - that place into which we walk, a place where we become connected with the Earth from which we’ve sprung, as well as reconnected with the Spring that is within ourselves. Such a choice can indeed result in a personal transformation - a discovery and an exploration of new self-truths.
And yet those of us who understand where friendowl is coming from know we cannot easily convince others as to why we hike. Neither should we beat our heads against the wall trying. However, if we recount enough stories in which our passion naturally exudes in their telling, we might intrigue a certain few to that point of criticality - that epiphanic moment in which the other person suddenly understands the truth of your words, filtered through their own experience, and says, in effect, “OK, you seem happy. I think I’ll try it.”
Mountains, indeed, can move us. And we, in turn, can move mountains, one bootstep at a time.
~winehiker
*Some might say that Bootism is all about the shoe. The winehiker contends that Bootism is all about walking in them. After all, style is fleeting; only substance endures.