PCT Day 108 – The Dirtiest Thirty, Round 2

Campsite at mile 1520 to campsite at mile 1543

My first roommate after college was a man who loved birthdays. His especially, but truly he was a fan of celebrating anyone’s birthday. So much so that when he discovered my birthday approaching, and that I didn’t plan to celebrate, he cajoled me into planning and hosting a party I never wanted.

You see, I’ve never particularly liked birthdays—especially my own. As a kid I was grateful that my birthday fell during summer vacation, so I wouldn’t have to bring in cupcakes and be sung to by the entire class. I am deeply uncomfortable with being the center of attention, something which most public birthday celebrations tend to dictate. Additionally, aside from your first birthday, your literal day of birth, the pomp and circumstance seems a little forced. Am I really all that different today than I was yesterday? Is 30 years terribly significant when compared to 29 years and 364 days? And beyond all that, each yearly demarcation seems more akin to the gradual loss of youth, of life, than a celebratory occasion; the evaporation of potential as it settles into the people we become. The people we will one day die as—and if we may be so lucky, remembered as.

Perhaps it was fitting, then, that today was nearly indistinguishable from an ordinary hiking day. We woke later than we intended to, and spent the day in slow, partial circumambulation of Mount Shasta. Rolling up and over low ridges under leaden grey clouds which threatened rain all day, but only managed to work up the spottiest sprinkle in late morning. The views were unphotogenic, faded by humidity and haze as they were. Only the wild flowers truly shone under the cool soft light which emphasized their vibrant colors.

While I walked I listened to the endlessly comforting Harry Potter audio books; a series I return to for their soothing nostalgia and familiar narrative. Choosing to send my mind to another world while my body marched relentlessly across the fields of our own. Today I did not feel compelled to circuitously ponder the significance of this particular birthday, this long coming decade change that seems to indicate real deal adulthood. I didn’t particularly wish to spend my hours of walking thinking of my patchwork creative career, so varied and incongruous. Nor did I feel drawn to think the mightiest of questions, the one which I have returned again and again during this hike: what am I going to do with the rest of my life? Our phrased more explicitly – In this capitalist society, in which I have no choice but to win the lottery or else work in order to provide for myself, what can I do with the skills that I possess that will pay the bills, and also provide creative nourishment, in which I don’t feel like I’m selling my soul in the aim of selling products?

So I gave myself the gift of not having to think about the impending termination of this adventure and the chasm of uncertainty that waits beyond. However, if you have any career or life advise, consider it welcome. I have found that even terrible advise can yeild good ideas.