Pre Hike 5 May 2018

Today I arrived in Los Angeles. I sat in the Union Station terminal for two hours (something I never really want to do again if I can help it) and then boarded the last train of this voyage to take me to the final destination - San Diego. Although I only left Ohioon Thursday morning, it seems like an extended length of time has passed rather than just the two days. But I am now in San Diego. I am so glad I gave myself one day here alone before I arrive at the Trail Angel’s house on Sunday. I need this space to recover from the trip but also to mentally prepare for Monday. I am in San Diego. Finally.

When the train left Chicago at 3pm on Thursday, I began to anticipate the excitement of seeing Colorado again the next morning. We would be going through Kansas while I slept and cross into Colorado by mid morning. I made a dinner reservation for 7:45pm in the dining car and then settled in to a late afternoon of watching the countryside slip away from the fast moving train. The sky was still cloudy and rain continued to fall sending rivers of wet along the windows distorting my view of the fields, trees and steadfast small towns. Occasionally the train would stop at one of these towns along the way to let travelers off and on. I watched them from the window as they gazed up at the train in earnest anticipation of their own journeys. After dinner the car attendant made up my bed. I showered using the small hand-held shower hung above the toilet in a separate chamber in my room and then climbed into the bed which was essentially made up by collapsing the seats and placing a very thin mattress on top. Far off in the distance suddenly the sky lit up with streaks of lightening that chiseled blazing white light through the air in quick bursts of flash. I didn’t hear any thunder as expected and the storm never made its way to blaze above the train. When the sky became calm, I closed my eyes and let the gentle rocking of the train lull me to sleep.

The next morning we did indeed arrive in Colorado. I went to sleep with newly budding trees and forests lining the tracks and woke to a vast empty landscape with the faint glimpse of mountains off in the distance. Colorado. And to my pleasant surprise one of the towns on our list of stops was La Junta. I spent two years as a young child growing up in Rocky Ford Colorado which was only miles from La Junta. And when the train stopped, we were allowed to get off and stretch our legs. I stepped off the train onto the Colorado soil and breathed the crisp cold air. The sky was vibrant and blue and effortless. For the rest of the morning I stared out the window at the scenes from Colorado. I thought about those two years and my family and how much I loved life in that small prairie town with numerous trips over mountain passes to small wooden cabins with lofts for sleeping. Often we would pack the car with camping gear and set off into the mountains. While my parents would prepare the camp, my sisters and I would wander off to find mounds of rocks to climb or small streams to run along beside while creating a world of make believe that existed for real in those lush mountain moments.

Soon the train began to climb into the lower foothills. And after going through a long tunnel dug into the mountain, we arrived in New Mexico. New Mexico. This is a landscape in widescreen. Looking out the train window I saw a small family of antelope bounding through the fields with the lightest of gaits, old wooden fence posts growing out of the dry ground and sculptural jagged rock formations that leveled off with flat plateaus. I saw three cows off in the far distance walking in single file, each equidistant from the other with their gazes down toward the earth. Off in the distance storm clouds hovered over layers of mountains and seemed to reach down and touch the silent peaks. At one point the darkening clouds became a thin sheer curtain that hung all the way to the far off ground while the hills seen behind were bathed in brilliant sunshine. And sweeping across the panorama lay the golden ground stretching as far as the eye could possibly perceive.

We were able to get off at Albuquerque. But walking along the train I realized I just wanted to be moving. I had spent the day captivated by the sights of this world but now I was thinking about the final destination and the days after.

After another night of dinner, wine and sleep, I awoke to find myself in California. And then soon Los Angeles.

And now San Diego. I am in a hotel room. Placed against a stand is my backpack filled and ready to go. It silently waits for me. I keep staring at it knowing that it will be with me for many months. I silently wonder if I have everything I need. I walked to a local store and purchased 3 smart water bottles to be a part of my water supply strategy. I also have a 2 liter water platypus along with two 1 liter platypus water bags. They can be rolled up after the water has been used which will save me some space in the side pockets. Check out is at noon so I am going to use the morning to repack the backpack and continue to review the water report, halfmile notes and Yogi pages for the early stretch to Lake Morena. It’s 20 miles from the border. I’d like to get there by Monday late afternoon but as I’ve never walked 20 miles in one hike, it doesn’t seem likely nor smart.  

I suddenly find myself at a place of doubt. And I don’t want to go into this questioning everything I am doing. I think it’s most likely just nerves. And hopefully when I start hiking and feel the accomplishment of that first day - no matter how far I walk - I will gain my confidence back and be at ease so that my walking along this trail is exactly the right thing for me at this point in my life. I am done with the anticipation. I want to move. And I want to be moved.

Colorado 

La Junta train station. 

New Mexico