Each time I go on a long hike I have a long time to think, a rare privilege in a fast-paced world. A week or so into every walk, I find my thoughts slowing and relaxing, and I begin enjoying the opportunity to think a thought through to its completion,
“The second best time to plant a tree is today.” I have this thing about adages, corny or cliche though they may be. I think I’m just wired to appreciate them. And, I’ve found myself quoting this one on a regular basis, especially in the years since I began doing
In my early teenage years, I was remarkably politically active. I subscribed to a number of “action alert” email lists. Every day, I logged in (via a dial-up connection) to learn of injustices in need of resolving. And then, I wrote letters and emails to my legislators, absolutely certain that
I’m here today because of the love and advice given to me by a wonderful, compassionate, inspiring person who isn’t here any longer. I lost my uncle two weeks ago. Oftentimes, moments that leave us completely shattered also render us speechless. That hasn’t been the case for me, not now.
In the United States, it’s a long-standing tradition among long-distance hikers to celebrate the Summer Solstice by hiking naked. Because it didn’t quite seem appropriate to walk through tiny Spanish towns in the buff, I decided to commemorate the longest day of the year by taking a zero and heading