That’s what it felt like, knowing you. That you were as bright as the sun, and now I’ll always have a little piece of the sun with me from those weeks I was able to walk next to you. So how lucky am I?
I wanted you to know that even though I told Ruby I wasn’t okay, I feel closer and closer these days to the idea that I will be. My mind has been quieting the closer I’ve gotten to Oregon. I’m walking faster than I ever thought possible back during those first days. The miles pass by, and I watch the ground and listen to the birds and don’t think much about anything at all, and I feel calm. Like finally, the trail and I understand each other.
Did you know that some scientists call the paths animals and humans make all over the world, that divert from the carefully planned and constructed roads of civilization,desire lines? The paths that beat through the heart of the jungle, that draw shortcuts through city parks. People can destroy desire lines, try to train us to use the better developed paths, but we’ll keep making our own desire lines, again and again.
It finally feels like the PCT is my desire line. Like the PCT and my own internal compass are finally, temporarily aligning. It feels right now, following it until I get home, until I figure out what happens next.
But I don’t think I would have even come close to feeling anything the trail has given me now, if I hadn’t met you along the way first.
I know you always talked about how I saved your life. But I really think, Ben, that you were the one who saved mine.
I keep hoping you’ll write me again. I check for letters from you at every post office I pass. But it’s okay that you haven’t. I understand, Ben.
I just want you to know. How much I hope you always get to walk along your desire lines, too.
Obrigado, Ben.
Te amo.
Sempre,
Lex
Sent from Castella, California
Mile 1,505
***
August 24
Alina,
I’m getting close to Oregon now, and I’ve been trying to think about what I’m going to do when I get to the Bridge of the Gods. I was so determined to make it to Canada, but I’m getting pretty tired, Alina. I havelovedNorthern California; it’s been such an interesting combination of the desert, the Sierras, and home, too.
But my knee has been hurting me; the skin on my left foot has started to crack. Maybe once I make it through Oregon, once I reach the Columbia River Gorge, I’ll just come home. Since I didn’t technically start at the Mexican border, I’ve never been a true thru-hiker anyway, and 2,000 miles still isn’t bad. God. I can’t believe that when I get to Cascade Locks, I’ll have walked 2,000 miles. The trail hasn’t been anything like I expected, but I do feel stronger. And grateful I’ve made it through safely so far, even with all the aches and pains.
I still don’t really know what will happen when I get back to Portland. Where I’ll go. I never told you that was part of my plan. Going somewhere new after this, somewhere far away. I hope that doesn’t hurt you too much. But I think it might be good for me, Alina. Starting over. I hoped I would know by now, where exactly I’m planning to go, but I’m telling myself it’s okay. That I don’t have to have every single part of my life planned out. That maybe I’ll never have it figured out. That maybe I just need to keep doing my best.
Whatever happens, wherever I end up, I think I’m going to try to find a new church. I don’t know yet, if any church will work for me anymore, but I might try.
Because the way I’ve been feeling on trail as the weeks have gone by lately is how I think I used to feel in church. It’s a kind of smallness. When you feel so connected to the universe, and realize how insignificant you are. And it’s never sad. It’s comforting. Because it’s kind of amazing that we’re here at all. I can be quiet and small and insignificant, but I’m still here. I still get to see all of it. I get to listen. It feels so peaceful, getting to be small.
Once I leave the trail, maybe I could find that in a church again, somewhere. Or maybe somewhere else entirely that’s not a church at all, I don’t know.
I’m not telling you this because I want you to find this new church with me, or anything, but because I think you might be the only person who understands.
Hope you’re still doing okay. I miss you. Meet you for pizza when I’m back in town?
See you soon,
Alexei
Sent from Seiad Valley
Mile 1,662
***
