At Snoqualmie Pass

I was planning what I was going to write in my next blog post while hiking. I even wrote a bit of it down on some scrap paper while taking a break. But now, that I'm actually sitting at a computer, Michelle is asleep, I have no idea where that scrap paper is, and I have nothing interesting to say. Hrrmmph...

Someone said we are 90% done with the trail. I'm not really wanting to be finished yet, but I am excited about what comes next. I'd like to see some friends out west, do a bit of climbing. Then, after a week or so, I jump back into my bat stuff. There's a conference in October... some data analysis... *lots* of writing... I'm pretty psyched about starting my Ph.D. next fall and about working at the Biodome in Montreal this winter. I better enjoy the feeling of infinite potential while it lasts... Everything seems blissful at the moment.

I am extraordinarily lucky. It boggles my mind. For most people- indeed, most living things- life is a harsh struggle for survival. Somehow, by some astonishing miracle of blind chance, I happened to be born into a situation where food, water, and shelter are essentially a given. I live in prosperous times, among amazingly altruistic people, in the wealthiest part of the world. I have never really suffered or endured any kind of extreme hardship. I've never experienced war or torture or real hunger. I'm one of the richest people in the world in at least one important way, which is this: if I had a billion dollars, the things I do, my life, would not change in any significant way. I would still study vampire bats. I would still be hiking this trail. I would still be eating rice krispy treats. And to top it off, I'm stupendously lucky to have a mind that allows me to bask in the glory of all this good fortune. I can look around and really appreciate it. "Behold! ... Holy crap, this is sweet!"

Speaking of holy crap, it's hard not to get all "religiousy" when you're on this trail. If I had to describe the Pacific Crest Trail in 3 words they would be "beauty, beauty, beauty". The distance from Mexico to Canada is about 1500 miles by car, but the trail takes nearly 2700 miles to do the same job. This is because it seeks out every bit of lovely mountain scenery along the way. It snakes along crests and crosses (according to one website): 40 designated Wilderness areas, 24 National Forests, 7 National Parks, 3 State Parks, 19 major canyons and 57 mountain passes. This thin ribbon runs through almost every kind of ecosystem in the west, both by gaining and losing altitude and by gaining latitude . Moreover, it attracts some pretty interesting people. And even better, there's cool animals. We saw an owl today. And two people we've talked to now have seen mountain lions. Of course, I always freak out when even one bat flies by.

On a less dramatic note, I need to dispel a myth about the PCT. Hiking the PCT is NOT difficult. School is difficult. Work is hard. Relationships are tough. Being a good person- another tricky one. Trying to figure out game-theoretic models and mathematical rules for evolutionary stable strategies... difficult. Making money, responsibility, supporting kids, etc-- these are the kinds of things that everybody seems to somehow figure out, but which seem really hard to me. I don't know how they do it. But then these same people say to us: "wow, that's really inspiring that you're hiking the PCT. What a challenge!" Well.... It's just walking on a well-graded trail and eating lots of food. I hate to ruin everybody's idea that it's really challenging, but it's the easiest 5 month project I've ever worked on. It's easier than elementary school, or high school, or college, or my masters. It's easier than my Eagle project from Boy Scouts. It's easier than any sort of work where you have to wake up early. It's not really any work at all. What is work? I think what we call "work" is actually *stress*. It's the anxiety of not doing as much as you hoped or the worry of failure or disappointing others. There's very little stress on the PCT. Even if we don't finish, so what? Nothing we are doing here is ending up on our permanent record or our curriculum vitae. Nobody cares about our performance. And yet, at the same time, people support us. It's quiet unbelievable. Life is rarely like that.

I'm not sure where I'm going in all this weird rambling. I guess I just wanted to write *something*. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that this whole thing hasn't been what I expected. I thought it would be a big challenge. In a way, it is. But it's also made me feel like challenges are mental illusions. There's only a challenge when you stop and think about what you have to do. The rest of the time, you're just putting one foot in front of the other. And walking is quite enjoyable actually.

I hope that I enjoy my PhD in the same way. I'm really looking forward to it. Thanks to everybody who has helped make my life so rich and fulfilling. If you scroll down this blog, you'll mainly see a list of friends, relatives, and relative strangers who have helped us so much along the way so far. People who have fed us, clothed us, housed us, and lifted our spirits. I'm not sure how to deal with my overwhelming sense of appreciation.

Lastly, I want to say that hiking with Michelle has been the greatest. First of all, she is one tough cookie. It's also nice to hike with someone who is so patient, tolerant, smart, cheerful, and can somehow make 150 slightly different versions of corn pasta with dried veggies.

Well, I guess I managed to say something, even without my scrap paper.

I hope it made sense and that you enjoyed reading it. Actually, I guess that first part isn't important.

--Gerald