Everyday is like Sunday
It’s the weekend. I’m in bed, and today is the first day this whole thing really hits me. Every day feels like a Sunday, but it doesn’t feel like the cool kind of Sunday. On a cool Sunday I would be sleeping in, go for a run, then meet friends for brunch, drink coffee, and by 4pm we’d have a bit of a buzz from the proseccos we’d started drinking too early. We would greet each other with a kiss on the cheek or a warm hug, we would laugh, and no one would think twice about how close we would sit to one another. Those were the days. The world turned upside down and I think we are all looking at the future months with a big question mark. It’s going to take a long time until we can all go back to cool Sundays.
What makes this whole situation even weirder is that only one month ago, I was walking through the New Zealand wilderness without a care in the world. Now my time outside is limited to an extended run a day and a visit to the grocery store every three days. COVID-19 has taken over our lives. What the fuck happened!
I had big plans for this summer. I wanted to meet up with some friends to hike the Colorado Trail. My plan was to work as hard as I could through the next couple of months and then disappear back into the woods for a few weeks. Well… that is definitely not going to happen and it hurts having to wait another year to get back on trail. But like I said in my last post, this isn’t about my dream or your dream any longer. This thing is far bigger than all of us and we need to stick together and watch out for each other if we want to make it through.
Hiking is a community sport more than it is anything else, therefore we need to protect the small trail communities the way they have protected us for years. We should stay away. Nora virus in 2016 was a perfect example which showed how fast a virus can spread on trail, and now just imagine that with COVID-19. Bringing that to tiny mountain towns would put a huge a strain on their already small medical facilities. But it’s not just about spreading the virus. Just imagine you broke a hip out in the woods; someone would have to come and get you while they could be doing something else. First responders need to focus on COVID-19 right now. This is not the time to be doing risky things outdoors, but that’s just my opinion. You are welcome to have yours.
I feel you, 2020 thru-hikers. For a lot of you, this has been a lifelong dream. Deciding to cancel or postpone your hike isn’t like changing a vacation—getting everything in order for a six-month thru-hike is a huge deal, and it’s not a guarantee that you’ll get to reschedule for next year. I am so sorry if you had to postpone your hike, especially if you were already some miles into the trail or worse; almost done with it. I know it's unfair. I can imagine how tough it is to make the call to stop. Been there done that. It’s hard. I was devastated and broken. It takes so much planning and effort to prepare a hike. There’s the permits, the gear, the food, the postal packages, quitting your job, the research and the time you put into it.
This is a wild time. It's a strange time and we're being carried along in a flash flood and none of us know what the future is going to look like. Just remember what gave you the strength to hike this year, and don't forget that you will always have that force. The trail isn’t going anywhere, it will still be there next year.
