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8521810
August 3rd: I'm writing this by flashlight, inside of a tent. It's been a very strenuous day, and I'll need to sleep soon... There's an insect in here with me! I think it's a cricket. I just chased him around with my flashlight, but couldn't catch him. I don't think crickets bite, so unless he starts chirping, I'll leave him alone. I can't wait to wake up with a beautiful day tomorrow. All day, I've been trying to find a metaphor that relates a trail to one's life. After 5.4 miles, the idea sounds ridiculous to me. A trail is a trail, and life is just life (unless it's a magazine, in which case, it's just Life.) I wish life was as raw and beautiful as hiking a trail. (The experience of being, not the magazine.) Ha Ha! I thought our day was rough, I just heard some campers arrive and ask where a campsite was. We expected to make about 2 miles per hour, but the trail was very rocky. This is what we got: 5.4 Miles ____________ = a hard fucking hike
4.5 hours
All my thoughts feel useless right now, but I ask myself anyway, what is to be gained from this outing? Some would say to commune with nature. I, however, would deduce that the urge to hike into the woods and survive stems from the same desire which pushes people to "survive" in the city. It's a conquering instinct. Carrying 70 lbs. of Polyeurothane equipment into the wilderness is not "communing with nature." Cave men communed with nature; corpses and animals commune with nature. Ever since we became civilized, there's been no choice other than to conquer or be conquered. Those who still travel out here feel a need to appreciate the beauty of the outdoors, but they also are reminding themselves how dificult it was for the human race to tame everything wild.
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