A Limp in the Woods (Day 124)

An Appalachian Trail Tale
Day 124: Friday, July 26th, 2013
Gifford Woods Park to The Lookout Cabin & Tower = 14 miles
Miles to date: 1,715

What I Think About When Hiking

Scooch is one of my favorite words. It is absolutely pleasing in its onomatopoeic beauty. S-c-o-o-c-h. Here are a few sample sentences with the word:

“I wish I had someone to scooch toward.”
“I wish I had someone to scooch toward me.”
“A pooch can scooch, but pooches are mooches and give poor smooches.”

I came up with those all by myself. But alas, there are no famous passages taking advantage of the word. I think there ought to be, but then I think a lot of things. I keep thinking, to no worthwhile result.

I scooch, therefore I am.

Not all those who scooch are lost.
The pen is mightier than the scooch.
That which does not kill us makes us scooch.
If you are scooching through hell, keep scooching.
Scooch softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.
‘To scooch or not to scooch?’...that is the question.

When the going gets tough, the tough get scooching.

Scooching is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single scooch.
I scooched to the woods because I wished to live deliberately. 
That’s one small step for man, one giant scooch for mankind.
Better to have scooched and lost than to have never scooched at all.
Only those who risk scooching too far can possibly find out how far they can scooch.
 Ask not what your country can scooch for you; ask what you can scooch for your country.
Do not scooch where the path may lead, scooch instead where there is no path and leave a trail.  

(One is forced to wonder what the con artists at Leave No Trace, Inc. would think of that last quotation there by Ralph Waldo Funnybone.)

~~~~~~~~~~

What I think about when hiking:

1: Sex--graphic stuff. Sadly, I get more sensation and stimulation from sneezing and pooping than I do from an orgasm.
2: My past--my ex wife, triumphs, regrets, mistakes, demons, losses, travels, old friends/bandmates, etc.
3: The future--travels, travails, demons, impending ex-lovers, worries, writing my list of worries.

4: The impact of overthinking one’s condition.
5: My feet/getting off my feet. My next break.
6: Food--good, edible food.
7: How to reduce weight carried.
8: The past, as it occurred where I traverse--did natives live here? And did they have the bumper stickers to prove they were natives? Did any civil war soldiers hide out nearby? And so on...
9: Various imagined scenarios--could I survive out here if civilization suddenly collapsed? Old boyhood games I have yet to outgrow.
10: The immediate surroundings--scenery, wildlife, the weather, sounds, scents, the whereabouts of the crest of the hill I’m climbing, the trail itself and its misbegotten makeup.
11: The futility of trying to capture the events of the day in writing or in photos or even on video.
12: Books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen; books and movies needing to be written.
13: Writing music. Musick.
14: Just how deceptively simple and masterful The Cars debut album was, and is.

15: Future surroundings--will Maine inspire as I’ve been assured? Etc.
16: My exertion. Sweating, breathing, pacing/energy distribution, and so on.
17: Man’s many follies, his lack of care for his the environment/ecosystem.
18: Rock band names: Secondhand Smirk, Slickrock; Phlègm Brûlée; The Struggles; Crimes Against Nature; etc.

19: Random/abnormal shit. Abnormal to you, not me. 

20: Sex.

Then there are times I think nothing at all. Like the animals in the forest, who haven’t the time to think, I just am. These are my favorite moments, fleeting though they are. Who needs to think when your feet just go?

Almost Accurate Pie Chart

Another thing I think about, and a lot of the time at that, is my love/hate relationship with this trail. I hate it, but I keep falling in and out of love with it. 

I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I love it. I love it. I loathe it. I loathe it. I...

Lately I’m not so sure.

I need a dog.