[pct-l] Smoking on the trail
Jeffrey Olson
jolson at olc.edu
Wed Mar 13 18:17:41 CDT 2013
I love the moralism that comes through sometimes. People reveal
themselves. Believe me, when you get out on the trail you're not going
to give a sh** what other people do or don't do. You just speed up,
walk by, slow down, take a zero, take a nap, or ? It's your hike.
One of my strongest memories of a hike of the JMT in 1993 was walking up
the 800' ridge behind the uppermost Evolution Lake. I'd started the
morning at the bridge over the San Joaquin and it was middle afternoon
and I was in awe. So beautiful.
Lo and behold, this guy comes traipsing down, and I mean "traipsing."
He had a counter-rhythm going with himself as he walked. It was almost
jerky, but because of the multiple rhythms, his walk was actually
graceful. He was the definition of "loose!"
He'd obviously been smoking because all he could do was utter "Wow!" and
"Isn't this AWESOME" with his voice actually speaking the word in caps.
I laughed and we traded stories - the crossing was only knee deep - the
top of the ridge and the lake below the Muir Hut only a half hour away.
He asked if I wanted to smoke some bud, and had been thinking as we
talked that if he offered, I would. I hadn't smoked pot in the
wilderness in years and years, and it had been in my mid-20s that I'd
smoked above timberline. We finished half a joint and stood around
marvelling. Neither of us were talkative after that, and we went our
ways with a strong handclasp and deep look into each other's bloodshot
eyes. Brotherhood...
The hike to the Muir hut was just surreal. I was in good shape so
didn't have to cope with breathing hard. I was breathing in perfect
rhythm with my walking and it just went on and on. I felt like one of
those sprinting animals filmed by National Geographic. My feet strode
and my head was perfectly level as I walked up and down, around and
over. I was a hiking cheetah, so in touch within my world.
A couple days later I met a packer riding in front of two guys dressed
up in full cowboy regalia. The packer smiled wearily and said they were
Germans who wanted to experience the wild wild west. So they flew in
from Germany, found a bunch of pot, put on their chaps and leater vests,
boots and ten gallon Stetsons and whooped their way down the trail on
the backs of old gray mares, smoking joints. The packer just shook his
head as I laughed and the two guys road up. Funny...
Jeffrey Olson
Rapid City, SD
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