Tag: Meditation

Categories
Hiking the PCT

My 100th Day

I’m excited to share my experience hiking on my 100th day on the PCT. I chronicled my day to remember life on the trail. It represents both the simplicity and the practices I use to stay engaged and safe while deepening my awareness. 

I hiked a relatively short day of 21.6 miles through the Goat Rocks Wilderness. I pushed hard 30-miles the day before to get to this section. At the end of my 100th day, I had completed 2,280 miles or 22.8 miles per day. I had some new insights as I look back at the twists and turns common on the trail. 

First, I have refined and developed practices that I use throughout the day applied at various times. As I observed my approach, it became clear that I was using meditation practices to coax my mind and body into embracing the coming hiking day. I have noticed that I am becoming increasingly resistant, mentally and physically, to hiking at the start of the day. I think this is natural after an effort of this magnitude and certainly something other hikers have described. I’m glad that I developed some structure to support my intention and the joy I receive as my day progresses.

My second realization has to do with joy. I noticed throughout the day unexpected moments grab me at the deepest level. For example, I turned a corner on the trail to see the wind blowing through the grass and felt it caressing my hair. These moments of connectedness are hard to describe, but it felt like my hair and the grass and the wind were not separate but one continuous energetic expression.  Or the clattering sound from a woodpecker or the high-pitched chirp of a pica. These unexpected moments occur frequently and come when I am grumbling or happy, present or checked out. But there they are, connecting me with everything that surrounds me. This is what brings me to nature, it is the feeling that I’m a part of it, not just watching it, or conquering it, or taking pictures of it – no, I’m a part of it at a cellular level. I wonder what it would take to experience these moments during what we describe as “normal” life. Do I need to trek endlessly day after day to be open for these unexpected moments of connectedness?

5:00 AM

My alarm went off at 5:00 a.m on my 100th day of hiking. As usual, it was a restless night of sleep. The rain had started in the middle of the night, but it was so warm that everything was dry again. My 30-mosquito escort had a sleepover outside the tent so they could greet me in the morning. As I prepared to pack out, I did a quick survey of my current condition. I hiked 30 miles the previous day in hot and humid conditions with a constant barrage from mosquitoes and biting flies. I felt dehydrated, as evidenced by some leg cramping – all the more reason to take it slow this morning and try to rehydrate. I have 1.5 liters of water which needs to last for the first 7.5 miles.

5:40 AM

I packed everything and was hiking by 5:40 AM.  I put on my full rain gear, including long pants, for the first seven miles to get thru a swampy area. I had three bites on my ankles in the short time I needed to put my shoes on. I hiked at a gentle pace for the first hour to give my body a chance to wake up.

6:40  AM

After two miles, I had my first-breakfast, which was a cliff coffee bar. I’d been working to rehydrate myself but save water for the next 2 hours. I started a one-hour body scan meditation.

7:40 AM

I completed my body scan, and everything is felt good except pain in my right footpad. I checked in with 32 different locations on my body. I find this is an excellent start for the day because it gets me out of my head and connects me to all the parts of my body that will do the work today. I decided to keep walking for the next two hours to clear the buggy swamp section.

8:40 AM

I’d hiked seven miles and had started climbing. It began to rain as it has on several occasions over the last two days, but I didn’t think it would break through this stifling humidity. I completed my second meditation, a trail sensation meditation, where I focused my attention on any sensations I felt from the trail, including the trail surface and the brush that I touched along the way.

9:40 AM

I filled my water bottles at a small stream after hiking eight miles, with the first miles being a 1750 ft descent followed by a 1300 ft climb. The bugs significantly eased as I climbed the ridge, and I was looking forward to having a proper second-breakfast soon.


10:40 AM

After getting water, I started to feel more at ease with the climb ahead. I used a meditation approach that works well for me on climbs. That is to count my breaths from 1 to 10 and then start over. I focus on my steps between each breath which helps me set a sustainable pace. I started to feel in a groove and decided to keep going instead of stopping for second-breakfast. I grabbed a protein bar and continued to climb.

11:40 AM

I reached a pass where the PCT crosses into the Yakima Nation after 13 miles. I remembered this spot from my previous hike in the Goat Rocks and was thrilled to get here for second-breakfast. I heated water for my excellent high-calorie oatmeal concoction and my morning cup of coffee with great fanfare. With the heat and humidity, I had been hoping for rain. It drizzled at first, so I finish my breakfast and then the rain picked up, so I continued hiking after putting on shorts. As strange as it may seem, thru-hikers will put on shorts and their lightest gear in warm rain. Getting wet is inevitable if you hike in the rain for long stretches. This way you keep your warm clothing dry. 

12:40 PM

I always get a big energy boost after second-breakfast. I finished climbing Cispus Pass, and the rain stopped. I met six hiking parties, out for the weekend, that wanted to talk about my journey. I spent time with each of them because I know how much I appreciated learning from previous PCT hikers. I am rarely seeing fellow north-bound PCT thru-hikers at this point but now meet about 10 south-bound hikers a day.

1:40 PM

I had reached the basin under Old Snowy Mountain. Usually, Old Snowy is one of the most picturesque sections on the PCT, but today the mountains were barely visible due to a smokey mist. I hiked this section two years ago with Scott, so coming back and feeling my first cool breeze in days made me smile. I did my one-hour metta meditation as I climbed up to 7,100 feet.

It is worth noting the tools thru-hikers use. Navigation and crowdsourcing information from other hikers is available on an app called Guthook. It allows hikers to see their location in real-time even when the phone is in airplane mode. It also allows hikers to comment on water sources, safety issues, and the best pizza joint in trail towns.

3:20 PM

I climbed the alternate PCT route to the top of the Knife’s Edge, a feared section of trail that follows a thin ridgeline with exposure on both sides. Before descending, I had first-lunch of refried beans and Fritos and called Pleasure-Way. The trail is tricky, and one hiker is believed to have died here but was never found.

Photo of the Knife’s Edge trail from the top of Owd Snowy two years ago
Looking back up the Knife’s Edge after descending on my 100th day

5:20 PM

I made my way to my campsite after descending 1500 feet from the summit. I selected this site because it was next to a stream and on clear days, has a great view of Mt. Rainier.  It was great getting into camp this early since most days I arrive after 7 PM.

5:40 PM

The tent was up, and I used the cold and clear water to hydrate, filter water, and clean up. When possible, I take a sponge bath each night away from the water source. Most nights, I am “dry camping,” which means there is no water source nearby. I always need to ration my water when dry camping, so having it readily available is a treat.

6:40 PM

I cooked dinner outside my tent, the first time in several weeks. The wind kept the bugs at bay, and I enjoyed the solitude. On the menu was my favorite, spaghetti followed by ramen.

7:40 PM

I worked on my 100th-day blog post. I was pleased to have made notes during the day, and reviewing them provided me some valuable insights.

9:00 PM

Lights out, I start again in eight hours.

Categories
Hiking the PCT

Bridge of the Gods

Native American Legend provides a vivid description of the formation and destruction of the Bridge of the Gods. As the Klickitat tribe tells it, the Great Spirit had two warring sons, Pahto to the north of the river and Wy’east to the south. The Bridge of the Gods was created as a way for the family to meet, but the brothers fought over a beautiful woman named Loowit. Their anger shook the earth with fire. The bridge fell into the river. Loowit could not choose between the brothers, and some say she perished in the fighting. For punishment, the Great Spirit turned his sons into mountains — Pahto into Mount Adams and Wy’east into Mount Hood. Loowit became the beautiful Mount St. Helens.

Geologists believe that such a land bridge did exist after the Bonneville landslide, roughly 1,500 years ago, sent a large amount of debris from the northern side of the gorge into the Columbia River. The debris blocked the Columbia River with a natural dam approximately 200 feet high and 3.5 miles long, possibly allowing Native Americans to cross the river. Eventually, the river broke through the barrier and washed away most of the debris, forming the Cascades Rapids, submerged in 1938 by the construction of the Bonneville Dam.

The Bridge of the Gods is also where Cheryl Strayed decided to end her 1,100 mile, 94-day PCT hike. Her book, Wild (2012), and the subsequent movie (2014), starring Reese Witherspoon and produced by her film company, has added more mythology to the PCT and this particular location. Her story struck a chord. In The New York Times, Dani Shapiro called the book “spectacular… at once a breathtaking adventure tale and a profound meditation on the nature of grief and survival.” I have met hikers from across the world motivated to hike the PCT based on Wild.

As I crossed the bridge at 5:30 AM, I was struck by the power of this place. It was more than my angst looking down 140 feet through steel grates into the swirling Columbia River. The full moon in the west reminded me of my Zen group’s metta service offered each month. Metta, or loving-kindness, is a practice of directing positive energy and kindness to oneself and then to an ever-expanding circle, including those you dislike. Perhaps this practice could have benefitted Pahto and Wy’east. I wondered how this journey would contribute to me and others. It urged me to look deeper during my remaining days to discover new insights that might emerge. The journey has given me an entirely new perspective of how my two-trillion cells function through my experience rather than my conceptual understanding. I will carry those insights through the rest of my days, but what else does the trail wish to teach me?

As for the details, I completed 2,147 miles in 94 hiking days, including all the open sections of California and Oregon. That is an average of about 23 miles per day. As expected, the pace in Oregon was faster, completing the open sections in 15 days, or about 26 miles per day. I plan to slow the pace down in Washington due to the increased difficulty and savor the remaining time.

I see Mt. Hood from the south the most from the ski areas.
Mt. Hood in the summer is a beautiful place shared by many enthusiasts from climbers, hikers, mountain bikers, and even skiers and snowboarders engaged in race camps. My children, all aspiring racers, spent time up here in the summer training in the day and rubbing shoulders with world-class skiers and cleaning the dorms at night to earn their keep.
My brother Charles treated me to brunch at the historic Timberline Lodge (shout out to my sister for the great idea). Charles is to blame for getting my father into backpacking which then infected the rest of us. By the way, I don’t suggest “all you can eat” buffets when thru-hikers are in the vicinity.
Circumnavigating Mt. Hood requires a series of deep dives into the valleys that are the source of the White and Sandy rivers.
This is the first time I have had a close-up view of Mt. Hood from the northwest. You can see why few climbers take this route.

I decided to take the PCT alternate route down the Eagle Creek trail, which has been re-opened since a devastating fire three years ago. Tunnel Falls is one of many beautiful falls and refreshing swimming holes to explore.
Brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Jeff and Lynne, kindly picked me up at the Eagle Creek trailhead and provided much-needed trail magic in the form of chocolate milk and ice cream bars, followed by a healthy dinner.
The now-famous East Wind Drive-In in Cascade Locks is featured as the last stop on Cheryl Strayed’s journey. It was all lit up as I started hiking at 5 AM.
The swirling Columbia River and full moon as I crossed the Bridge of the Gods.

Chapter Three begins here. I am so looking forward to getting to know the beautiful state of Washington.
Hiking out of the Columbia River Gorge takes 5K feet of climbing to gain 3.5k feet in elevation. The gorge is the lowest point on the trail and one of the most anticipated milestones on the PCT.
Categories
PCT Reflections

What Mind is Walking?

Last summer, during a training hike, I met a couple who had completed the PCT in 2015. We had a great discussion about why they enjoyed it so much and what it took to complete it. I then ask them whether I was too old, and they laughed and shared that an 82-year-old was keeping up with them during sections of their hike. The conversation concluded with this summary remark; “it’s a mental journey, not a physical one.”

As I’ve thought about that conversation, I have wondered how can 2,650 miles all be in one’s mind. I started meditating with the Corvallis Zen Circle ten years ago to develop my awareness. Jon Kabat-Zinn, internationally known for his work as a scientist, writer, and meditation teacher, defines awareness as “paying attention in the present moment, non-judgmentally.” I asked my Zen teacher, Abby Mushin Terris, for a Koan to guide my inquiry. Koans are unanswerable questions, at least through our everyday thought processes. After listening to my description, she offered the following Koan, “what mind is walking?” This question yielded some immediate surprises.

The first surprise is that during the early weeks when I was getting angry, depressed, or anxious about the hike, I could trace that anxiety to what I describe as my thinking mind. The thinking mind is a magnificent problem-solving machine, but it’s best when it has good information. At the start, I had a limited understanding of what was in store for me or whether I could complete this journey. When people would ask whether I was hiking to Canada, the only honest answer I could give was “I hope so, but I don’t know.” These kinds of answers drive the thinking mind crazy. With no tangible information to go on, I noticed it swirling into ever-changing stories and distractions that fueled my anxiety.

The second surprise came from observing my body walking. Using my awareness, I observed my body’s sensations, emotions, and thoughts while hiking all day. Walking over continuously changing terrain is complex. It is no wonder that roboticists have taken decades to develop robots that can marginally imitate how humans walk. I noticed how my body anticipated and applied thinking in real-time. For example, I observed that a split second before I stumble, multiple parts of my body had shifted their position in anticipation of the stumble, such as my arm position and the tightened grip of my hands on the hiking poles. I was not consciously aware that any of these actions had occurred even after I stumbled. So the question then is what mind is figuring all of this out if it is not my thinking mind located in my prefrontal cortex.

After hiking 1847 miles, I can share some insights into this question. In my case, I have identified 32 minds that are walking, and this is still evolving. They are all directly involved with getting me safely through each 12-hour day. These minds include individual joints and muscles (left foot, right knee, left hip flexor, etc.), organs (lungs, heart, bowels, etc.), senses (sight, hearing, balance, etc.), and my thinking mind. One technique used in meditation practice is to use your awareness to observe individual parts of your body, known as a body scan. I spend about one hour twice a day doing a body scan. I connect with each of these “walking-minds” by observing them and establish a direct connection as the day progresses.

My third surprise is the most important. I observed that my body loves to walk. It’s not necessary for me to will my way mile after mile while playing pump-up music. I don’t need any motivation at all; my body is designed to walk, and it feels rewarding. This practice has taken a great burden from my thinking mind. Now that I am in direct contact with the crucial systems of my body needed for walking, my thinking mind can focus on what it’s good at, like planning my route, finding water, solving problems, and applying its creative capacity.

Before you write this post off as the rantings of a crazed thru-hiker, I suggest you try this for yourself. During a walk, spend time focusing on one part of your body, like your left foot, and see whether your relationship with it changes. When would-be hikers ask me, my summary remark will be something like, “it’s a mental journey, and you need to engage the intelligence of both mind and body.”

Here are a few photos from my first 150 miles in Oregon!

It is so refreshing to hike in forests again and to see the 100 shades of green on display on Mt. Ashland.
Just after entering Oregon, I entered a field of Bear Grass in bloom. I did not see a single instance of this before arriving home.
The approach to Crater Lake covers about 10 miles of lava fields. The skill of the trail makers was impressive.
The PCT has an alternate route that follows the Crater Lake Rim Trail. Pleasure-Way joined me to enjoy this national treasure.
Wizard Island shouts mystery and adventure.

Categories
PCT Reflections

Body Scan

I just covered some beautiful and diverse terrain from I10 near Palm Springs at 2K feet to 8K feet above Big Bear Lake. I have completed 10% of the miles (250) and 20% of the climbing (71K) in 12 days. No wonder I am feeling it.

Soaking and icing my right ankle.

I have identified a valuable practice from my journey so far. By practice, I mean a way of engaging with my experience that makes it more vibrant, focused, and brings me joy. When I have become agitated, it tends to spiral producing increasing levels of negative energy. My hiking days last 11 hours on average, so that is a lot of time to spiral into a dark place.

A star’s ‘Death Spiral’ into a Black Hole | NASA.

So far, the area that most often needs attention is my mind. I will call my practice a walking body scan. I start by paying close attention to my left foot, observing how it lands and pushes off for at least 5 minutes. I acknowledge any discomfort and appreciate how amazing it is (already having stepped 130K times). Then I move to the right foot, the ankles, knees, leg muscles, glutes, abs, lungs, shoulders carrying the weight, and then my neck, face, and mind. After the scan, I return to the areas with tension. I can feel the stress pressing my temples as my mind tries to figure out or avoid this experience. I spend another 30 minutes focusing on releasing my mind’s pressure and, with it, the need to do anything but connect with my body and stay out of the way.

Prickly Pear cactus in bloom.
From snow to 95° and back again.
Amazing trees keep me company.