Day 50: The Benjamin Button Effect

(Mile 712.5 to 731 = 18.5 miles)

Our first view of the morning Sierras. I wanted to run and  
frolic. But my pack was too heavy.

I realized today after watching Kindergarten Cop eat a monster bag of Crunch Berries for second breakfast, slowly build a ring of blue and red around his mouth as he went, that he was becoming more and more like Barracuda, the seven year old hiking the trail -- Barracuda always has a ring around his mouth and a smudge on his nose.  Yesterday, Kindergarten Cop had a ring of Oreos; at lunch, it was a ring of hot cocoa.  But I can't say much.  While KC was making his Oreo mustache, I was greedily eating my dinner, an Oreo balanced on each knee, waiting for me to finish.  When one fell on the ground, I dusted it off and gobbled it down.  It seems we are all growing younger the longer we are on the trail.

These heart-shaped flowers lit up the landscape.

We grow younger in our eating habits, as well in the way we eat.  And sleep.  And drink.  And take care of all of those bodily needs.  When we are hungry, we eat what we want, when we want.  This means oatmeal and jerky and Snickers for second breakfast, which is no more than two hours later than first breakfast.  We sleep when we are tired.  This sometimes means sitting up and napping against our packs -- we're like toddlers and can sleep anywhere through anything.  We drink when we are thirsty, stop for water when we need it, and sometimes carry one pound of tasty drink mixes with us -- Kool-Aid for kids.  When we need to go number one or two, we drop our packs, head for the bushes, and take care of our business.  We are on no schedule for anything.  There is no mandated break time and even no societal rules about when and where.  We do what we need to do when we need to do it.

I am in love with the Sierras. Happy is how I look and that is all. 

We grow younger in our movements.  Many of us are in or near the best shape of our lives.  When that pack comes off, we leap, skip, and run.  And even when it's on, we're rock-hopping, balancing on logs, scrambling over fallen trees, and scampering down trails.  I was coming up the hill with my water bottles last night, and Kindergarten Cop said I looked like a six year old bringing home treasures from the creek to show Mom.  I felt like one.

We grow younger in our thoughts.  Today, I saw my first marmot.  I was absolutely thrilled.  I watched it, called to it, talked to it, and wouldn't shut up about it.  I am still excited about it and am eager to meet my next.  It seems that our child-like fascination with the natural world slowly returns out here.

Cliff Swallows danced in the air while the guys (the Canadians)
ran around trying to catch fish in the river.

And, like a kid, we have started to care less and less about what people think and more and more about comfort and function.  I realized this when I only had my hiking clothes to wear to the fire department meeting in Kennedy Meadows that I was invited to tag-along for.  I was slightly embarrassed about my oversized floppy hat and sunglasses, my navy shorts and black shirt, my neon trail runners, and especially my plastic neon beaded heart bracelet that I got for my birthday.  This is my everyday trail-wear.  Practical.  But ridiculous at a fire meeting. 

Something about this just makes you want to shout and sing
songs from "The Sound of Music."

And so it seems that we are all Benjamin Buttons, growing younger on the trail as the days go by.  Or at least becoming more in tune with the youthful innocence we once enjoyed.  Oh, it's no "Lord of the Flies;" we maintain most of our adult politeness and sense of right and wrong.  But we do seem to be a bit lighter and more relaxed, a little quicker to smile and enjoy the moment. 

There is a line from a poem I think of often when I am out here and grinning wildly to myself about some new discovery; I couldn't tell you the author or split the lines right, but it goes, "Now that I am in love with a place that does not care how I look or if I am happy, happy is how I look, and that is all."  That is the face of a PCT thru-hiker.  And any person who has just been completely absorbed in the natural rhythms of the world.  Happy; and that is all.  And that is me in the Sierras.