Wherein Trailhead Discloses a Whacky Summer Plan

Last October I was sitting at my kitchen table with Mr. T, his college roommate EJ, and EJ's wife, YJ. We were playing euchre, a card game with a central place in the lore of my marriage. In the middle of a trick, EJ put his cards down and spoke.

"I'm thinking I'll take a month off next summer and hike the Oregon section of the Pacific Crest Trail."

I froze, my hand suspended over the table and clutching some unlucky card, probably a 9. I looked at EJ. Things remained that way for what seemed like the length of one of Bill Clinton's speeches, but was really only a second or two. EJ smiled at me. Pavlov's bells were ringing.

I've long nurtured the dream of a long distance trail, but this circumstance or that always seemed to get in the way. Way back in the mid-90's, I started law school at the University of Florida during the January term. That meant I would graduate in December, while most legal employers take on newbies in September. I had been eyeing that tantalizing nine-month gap with a mind to taking a stab at the Appalachian Trail with Mr. T.

Then, for various reasons, I transferred to Duke University and got back on track for a May graduation. Instead, we squeezed in three weeks of backpacking after the bar exam, in the Adirondack mountains in New York and on Washington's Olympic peninsula. I started work at the firm on September 1, 1998, while Mr. T took off for two weeks to canoe alone in the Boundary Waters of Minnesota. He had been working extremely hard during my legal education, and had just moved from North Carolina to my home state of Indiana. He had that time in the Boundary Waters coming to him.

Most of you who know me -- and what I've been doing for the last four years -- know where this is going.

Without boring you with another three paragraphs, let us just say that between that time and now, there have been two other epic journeys I've plotted -- another AT thru-hike and a cross-country bike trip -- that have been scotched. (In one case for a very good reason -- the arrival of Trailhead Kid.)

And in the last four years, the tables have been turned. I've supported Mr. T through his second graduate degree, and a move across the country that I was reluctant to make for a variety of reasons and was very difficult for me. This move has turned out to be richly worthwhile, but it has also forced me to undertake some deep consideration of what I want to do with my career in the future.

And I also need a break. The China trip was part of that. But there's something else.

And so I sat on that autumn evening, 9 of diamonds dangling over the table, thinking. Since September, 2002, conjuring up journeys had taken on a challenging new element: how to do whatever thing without staying away from TK for too long. Kayak the Inside Passage? Nope. Trek around Annapurna? Nope. AT thru-hike? Ditto.

But a month on the Oregon section of the PCT -- now that had promise. If Mr. T hoarded his vacation, he could support us for a series of three or four day weekends, and I'd never go more than three or four days without seeing my family.

EJ, a sheriff's deputy here in Oregon, has secured thirty days off from busting meth dealers and other miscreants. My situation is less certain. I will definitely be hiking for the first ten days, then I will bop back into society to a) make certain Bloggerdad isn't underwater because of my absence and b) make sure all is well with my family. If either of those areas of my life require attention, I'll get off the trail.

For the first four days (which helpfully include the Fourth of July holiday weekend), Mr. T and TK will be supporting us, and meeting us each night via a road crossing. (There are many in the first part of southern Oregon.) If I decide to hike longer, Mr. T will take a spot of vacation time to make sure I don't go too long without seeing them.

EJ's ten-year-old daughter has signed on for the trip as well, and will accompany us for as long as she feels like it. Knowing this kid, it might be the whole way.

There are 498 miles of trail from the California border to Washington. So it's unlikely that even EJ, hiking for thirty days straight, will get it all done.

But for me, the point is just putting one foot in front of another for as long as I can.

I always hesitate to make these grand pronouncements to the world, because before you know it, you're David Blaine in a ball of water with your skin peeling off because, like an idiot, you told everyone you were going to stay in that ball for a week and then not breathe for nine minutes while you worked yourself out of a bunch of chains to escape it. And then you feel like a doofus because a bunch of divers had to bail your pruny ass out of the chains because you passed out.

And that crap never works for me. I always sprain an ankle or whatnot. So here's the most I can pronounce at this time. I'll be backpacking for the first ten days in July. I have no idea what I'll be doing for the rest of July, but we'll find out, won't we?