Right now I’m waiting for the bus to take me back to the city from Bear Mountain Inn. I just used a real toilet and it was glorious. And I’m still alive and I didn’t totally freak out and I don’t even care that I have to wait two hours for the bus.
I was supposed to go on a backpacking trip this weekend with a meetup group but there was rain in the forecast and it turned into a day hike instead. I really had my heart set on the backpacking trip though. That was the end goal that finally pushed me to get a sleeping bag and pad and a bear can and a tiny canister of fuel for my jet boil.
I found out that the trip was downgraded on Friday morning as soon as I woke up and checked the weather. It was really only a 40% chance of rain through the night and then more probable in the morning. Who’s afraid of getting wet if you’re on your way home to a nice warm shower?
I decided I was going to do it anyway. I remembered seeing a post on myharriman.com about an easy overnight at the West Mountain Shelter. It was straightforward and accessible from the city via bus so I decided to do it.
I decided to do it continuously the entire time I was actually doing it.
On Friday night, I was too tired from the week to do any necessary preparations. I halfheartedly set my alarm for six on Saturday morning, a voice in the back of my mind telling me it was ok if I slept through it.
Somehow I woke up and actually got out of bed. I had to have everything packed to leave my apartment in Brooklyn at 9:55. There were a couple times where I almost gave up in frustration. I didn’t know what to do about the rain, I didn’t know if I’d be warm enough, I had no idea what to expect, which made it even harder to pack.
I made it out of the house on time, but the train was late. “If I miss the bus, I miss the bus,” I thought. And about three hours later, I was in the dirt on the side of Route 220, dragging my pack onto my back, getting the waist straps all twisted and stuck behind me.
I was expecting a trailhead, a big sign that said “TIMP TORNE TRAIL” and maybe a map. What I found was a narrow path through the brambles, kind of what you’d expect to see behind a high school leading to the spot where kids got high after lunch. It felt furtive and unofficial and for some reason I followed it. About 10 minutes in, I started seeing blue blazes. It felt like I had finally arrived, I was doing it! Just following the blue dots until it was time to eat and sleep and wake up and do it again.
This was my first time hiking with anything more than a teeny hydration vest, my first time using poles, just everything for the first time. I felt a little self conscious, I worried that I looked goofy, that the whole get-up was kind of overkill. As I settled in, I marveled at how I barely noticed the pack, how easy it was to hoist myself up over rocks and tree roots with the poles. Every once in a while, I skewered a crispy yellow leaf and felt benevolent for taking it on a little ride.
Do you know how you feel when you drive for the first time in a while, or you drive someone else’s car and you don’t know where anything is and you REALLY don’t want to mess it up? When you’re constantly running a mental checklist- wipers here, ahhh shifter on the steering column, not on the floor, hmm not sure how to turn on the A/C so I guess I’ll just sweat to death. That’s how starting out hiking felt for me. I think I was most worried about getting off trail, so I was constantly pulling out my phone to check the map.
Once I settled in a little more, I noticed something else. I was starting to feel the exact same way that I feel when I spend too much of a Saturday in bed. It’s a mix of boredom, restlessness, self-loathing, and a sense of missing out. But why? I was doing something, very active, very cool, very satisfying. Was it that I was alone? Was it that I was mono tasking, putting one foot in front of the other?
There also might have been some pressure to enjoy myself. Backpacking was something that I had been interested in for a while and I wanted it to be my new hobby. I found myself actively shutting down a nagging voice in my head that kept asking me if this was an actual fun thing that I would want to do more than once. It was ok if it wasn’t fun, I reassured myself. It didn’t have to be anything. I was just a person, walking in the woods, alone with my thoughts.
Do you know how hard it is to be alone with your thoughts? Do you even remember the last time you were alone with your thoughts? I, for one, spend my time zipping around the city with earbuds in, listening to podcasts. If I’m taking a relaxing bath, I also have my iPad propped up on the toilet tank so I can watch TV. It might even be physically impossible for me to run without listening to the Nicki Minaj Pandora station.(recommended)
But here I was, alone with my thoughts, and it was hard. I started thinking about exes, I started thinking about how much more fun this whole adventure would be with boyfriend. Then I thought about how if I was with a boyfriend I wouldn’t even be thinking. I’d be reliant on whoever, just following his lead. I questioned the rock solidness of my feminism. I questioned my entire personality. Was I actually just an annoying weirdo hypocrite and would I run out of water and die out here?
At this point, tears felt close. “I need to turn around,” I thought. I started doing mental calculations about how much it would cost to take an Uber across the Hudson to a MetroNorth stop. I even thought about calling my mom. In the end, I sat down on a log to collect myself and look at the map. As it turned out, I was ten minutes away from the shelter and my decision was made. I would go there, bore myself to sleep, and leave as early as possible in the morning.
The shelter itself was beautiful, this old stone structure plopped down right on the trail. It was only 4:30, and I had it all to myself… so I just kind of sat there and pretended to read.
This is the surprising part that turned the trip around for me. Two men in their mid-forties approached the shelter. “Oh great,” I thought, “here comes a lecture.” Not so!! They were great! We talked for an hour and a half, until the sun had set and more people filled in the woods around the shelter with tents. It was friendly BSing, talking about other trips they’d been on, funny stories about work, and so on. They really saved me though! I was lonely and they were kind. And most of all, they didn’t tell me that what I was doing was stupid or dangerous.
By the time they headed back to their camp, it was getting dark enough for me to call it a night. I couldn’t be bothered to make my dehydrated dinner. I found a good spot to pee, then set up my sleeping bag in the shelter. Lying on my stomach with my chin resting on my palms, I could see a teeny-tiny New York skyline in the distance. Someone sitting on the roof was playing American Beauty straight through on their phone. That had to be a sign.
I woke in the morning around 6:30, just as the sun whitened the overcast sky and animals started making noise. Within 3o minutes I was back on the trail, heading to Bear Mountain. The woods were misty and beautiful, but I was spooked about bears, so I hiked fast. I missed the early bus by 20 minutes, which is kind of a bummer, but I think I’m too proud of myself and too relaxed to care.
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I just heard Episode 8 of She Explores “Alone on the Trail” and all I could think was “Yes! Yes! Exactly!” Listen to it here: http://www.she-explores.com/podcast/
Outside the city 