Max Patch

April 15 2015


that day I stepped in poop.

Roaring fork

Chewy and I hiked all day in the rain listening to ridiculous music, hiding under trees with big floppy leaves. We were cold and collectively ate all of our snacks for this section. As we got to the stairs leading to Max Patch I knew that it would be really cold on top as the wind was ripping through the lower forests. So I turned to Chewy and told him, “I’m going to run the next mile.”

He gave me a tired nod and off we went running up over the bald, yelling the whole time. Sometimes on trail I yelled in triumph and sometimes out of fear. I gave out a ferocious scream at the top of Max Patch that was quickly muffled and carried off by the howling wind. We ran, holding our pack covers so they wouldn’t rip off and blow away, towards the cover of the forest, towards shelter and warmth and dinner. By the time we got to the shelter it was packed and muddy. I was riding the high of an adrenaline rush and came into camp like a singing bubble of sunshine. Someone commented on how happy I was, covered head to toe in mud, looking silly in my floppy, XL Frog Togg suit. The absurdity of it all only made me laugh more. I set up my tent in two inches of mud and came up to the table to chat with Sam and Roadrunner who were bundled up in their sleeping bags. Chewy and I ate a leisurely dinner and chatted until twilight, then retired to our squishy beds deep in the woods.

I think being humble is being able to laugh at yourself without any self-consciousness of needing to laugh at yourself to better a situation. The reasoning of my happiness lacked egoism. I strive to be this even now, but it isn’t something one can make happen in a moment. It exists in the underlying background of how a person interprets reality. It happens without thought.


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