Nearly a year ago, a dear friend and I decided we’d like to go for a walk this summer. As a general rule, I like walking across things; foyers, bridges,vast expanses of land… So when she expressed interest in walking a piece of the little ol’ Pacific Crest Trail, I began arranging life around walking: what I’ll eat, what I’ll wear, what I’ll carry, what I’ll eat, what snacks I’ll pack, what I’ll eat, etc. I’ve also become very aware of the weight of all items, and no longer consider an ounce to be a trivial contribution to heaviness.

Since completing my work contract in mid-May, I’ve been accomplishing a lot. Things like hiking to town for picnic lunches with Grandma, muddy backpacking trips in Michigan with friends and family, and trips to REI to fill gear gaps (and to dream about lighter gear).

It seems that planning an extended backpacking trip when the party members are in different countries increases risk for miscommunication. I had the start date for our hike set for mid-June, but found my friend would not yet be in the country – in anticipation of poor cell service on the trail prohibiting a virtual co-hike, I’ve inserted some other fun activities in the two week interim.

I’d prematurely locked in a flight to Northern California for a hike jump-off point, so I opted to transform it into a weekend adventure. I got to hike among redwoods, to tops of waterfalls, to mountain summits, and to slide down snowy slopes on my feet (and backside). I also got a day tour of the wild west Sacramento, including visiting historical sites to hear dry-humored octagenarian Kent (with stiff left knee and corresponding shoe squeak) share his joy for trains and old mansions. He also arranged for my breakout performance as a pianist, on the Stanford Chickering piano before a standing ovating audience (of 3, quite captive), awarding me the business card of the California Governor for my performance (“I took it right from his desk!”, he noted exuberantly as he pulled it from behind his vest).

Now I’m road tripping from Dixieland (after a red-eye to Chattanooga) to Wisconsin Campmeeting, watching “smoke” rise from the blue mountains of Tennessee and the unbridled breezes of Illinois tickle the grasses into undulating green waves.

I’m doing my best to bide my time patiently, but am eager to start walking. Who’s with me? Two weeks! Stay tuned…