|
The Wayfarers Journal, Episode One: Journey to Katahdin, by Tommy Michel
Excerpts from pages 213-216
Day Two in New York
Awake at sunrise, inquire about worship services and soon enter a Catholic church. It is still early this morning when finding myself afoot on the path. Cross the Wall Kill, climb up to the summit of Pochuck Mountain (1160′) and here begin cooking my breakfast. The view from the summit across this valley are nice but nothing compared to those atop Blue Mountain in Pennsylvania. Still, a sight it is as the Pochunk Kill russes down from this mountain to the Wall Kill and then their combined waters slowly wind throughout the valley floor with the Shawangunk Mountains standing proudly as the backdrop in the distace.
While preparing breakfast and enjoying the view, my thoughts continue about those ancient Lenape who made their life journey along these same mountain ridges and valleys a millennium ago.
After taking out my AT data book, begin anew calculating my current location on this path and soon determine that this walk has been 2011 kilometers (1250 mile) from where my footfalls began at Springer to this rock now directly beneath myself.
Abruptly interrupting these computations of my path afoot, the now disgruntled and discourteous solitude imposes upon myself the questions: Are you a madman? Is your thinking defective? Have you totally lost your mind? Do you continue walking each day for some insane reason? Wouldn′t it be idiotic to continue upon this path begrudging the freedom from its fetters?
These questions require myself much thought, but finally respond bravely to a now peevish solitude, If there could be any sane reason for not continuing here and now with this wayƒaring, myself is wholly unaware of it. Nevertheless, this journey abides for the reason that this very footpath brings vigor into my meager existence and provides healing for my heart.
Furthermore, the winds blowing across the mountain breathes healing into my entire being while this same mountain provides resplendent landscapes for my vision. The copious rains shower down drink for my thirst and when under tin-roofed shelters a symphony for my hearing. The sun-rays on the path provide light for my wanderlust whilst the moon, planets and stars permeate the night sky which remains for the dreams upon my repose.
Also, the trailside wildflowers bring winsome scents to my nostrils and a rainbow of color to my eyesight. The numerous animals traversing the path offer untold pleasure and amusement for my thoughts. The tranquil forest and babbling brooks provide serenity for my footfalls. The early morning din of birdsong provides joyful melody for my awaking whilst the whippoorwill becalms me to sleep at evenfall. The fire within the hearth provides warmth for both my evening perusals and handwritings while slowly the candles wick burns to provide light to the pages.
Too, the climbs to the mountain ridges provide strength to my walk and the time above the timberline exhibits the majesty of the natural world diminutively before the range of my perception. The snowdrift atop the summit provides seclusion for my meditation while the winding path provides leisure to my gait.
Likewise, the mountain provides a bounty of wild edible greens and berries to compelment my pantry. The burden, yes, even it has become one with myself and continues to carry me each and every day. The pain and tribulation encountered along the path bring with them endurance and long suffering. Too, many are the invaluable lessons my life received from knowing simplicity. Fain be myself for desiring this path of abundant new friendships that bring a fullness in delightful sharing. Also, imbued be myself with communion, grace and solace from the Creator of all these wonders as never to need not one other thing in my life.
Moreover, the juxtaposing paths continue to provide edification for my life. Yes, there is immense enjoyment in the treading upon the high place of this magnificent earth and unsurpassable beatitude only follows the doing on it here upon the mountain. Moreover, filled be myself with discernment, enlightenment, knowledge, understanding, and yes, even wisdom from the written Word of God. Why, there remains not one part of myself immutable from all which is unfolding before me.
Yes, my walk shall continue, and for as long as my footfalls do endure upon this journey; the passage of these glorious adventures shall be written here upon the pages of these quires.
Nevertheless, if my thinking, defective or otherwise, would ever have need to make a request for the morrrow, then be it a request for another day exactly like the one nigh unto myself, yes, even to be another one continuing upon this same path.
Madman? Idiotic? Never may that be said! So, begone with you, O nettlesome solitude and leave this wayƒarer in peace.
The now silenced solitude proceeds wordless having nothing more to say neither upon this rock nor during the remainder of this day. Instead, solitude will bide time to devise yet another assault and then wait patiently for an appropriate moment.
Looking down at the computations once again, determine there remains some 750 miles left on this journey; a short walk indeed. Thus, surrender this summit back to the whims of the mountain and proceed down into New Jersey.
| 
