When contemplating something like a thru hike of the JMT it is easy to think only of the beautiful sights you will see, one more amazing than the last. Or to contemplate the people you may meet, secure in the knowledge you will share a common bond regardless of age or background. All that romantic, idealistic stuff that makes you want to do it in the first place.
But the cold hard reality is this. The JMT is long. The JMT is tough. There is a reason that relatively few people attempt it. You must prepare, and prepare thoroughly, or you will suffer more than you need to, which will doubtless detract from the overall experience. Lack of preparation has caused many to "bail" before completion, a fate I hope to avoid, but there are no guarantees. My preparations have been going on for months, from getting the permit (perhaps the hardest part of the whole experience), to equipment selection and purchases, testing the gear and changing my mind about certain details, to the physical preparation.
I have literally been training and exercising for over a year for this experience, and even now I am not confident that I am completely prepared. Now that my equipment is 99% complete I have started to take hikes with something approaching a full pack, less food and water for now. And while I have not been sore the next day, nor particularly taxed during the hikes with a full pack, it does kick you hard when you take the pack off, you know that you have taken your physical preparation to the next level. Thankfully, my backpack selection, the Osprey AG65, is wonderful - this backpack is simply the finest I have ever strapped on, bar none. I hiked six miles yesterday, climbed 1,000 feet, and never felt like I had much on my back. Truly an amazing piece of outdoor engineering.
I am a bit different, I like to name cars, and other special material objects, so my backpack is no different. Recently I remarked to a friend, a female friend, that I was going to name my backpack, for she (it HAS to be feminine) will be my one constant companion through it all, I will depend on her, but I will have to carry her every step of the journey. We will be a team, all the way, for better or worse. Clearly she deserves a name.
When I made the decision to purchase the Osprey backpack, it did not take long, the name came easily. First of all, she is sort of a reddish orange color, not too garish, but definitely not something you will lose easily in the backcountry, an important consideration in case you need to be found! But the color sparked the name, for you see when I was married and we were expecting we picked names, both boys and girls because we held on to the suspense of not knowing the gender prior to birth. Alas, I had three sons, so the feminine name went unused, at least for a time. The name for that daughter never born was to have been Elizabeth Rose. When we brought Lizzie, the most beautiful Gordon Setter I have ever seen, into our lives she used the first name, albeit shortened for everyday use. Which left that middle name, until now neglected and forgotten.
Rose, or more affectionately, "Rosie" it is. It just feels right somehow, taking the daughter I never had on the adventure of a lifetime. Every Dad wants a daughter, now I have mine.
But I will carry other pieces of my memories and past with me also, most notably a symbol of my father, now long gone, though never far from my thoughts. He was part of the "Greatest Generation" and did his part in N. Africa, Sicily and Italy, and although he never "camped" again, he loved the outdoors and quietly taught that love to me, though I did not realize what he was doing at the time, that awareness came after he was gone. So in his memory on my pack is a pin with the symbol of his WWII unit, now long gone, the 45th Infantry Division, the Thunderbirds. As was true of most of his generation, he rarely spoke of it, how he earned a Purple Heart that we never learned of until some years after his death, but I can think of no better way to honor his memory and service. Dad, you were a survivor, and you are with me on this all the way, may you give me your strength and determination that I often witnessed when you lived.
When I originally contemplated this trek I had hoped that one of my sons might have been able to join me, but they are busy with life, no time for an adventure like this. I never intended to be a solo hiker, but it has turned out that way and I have decided it is the way it should be. I was a Boy Scout leader in many roles for many years as my sons grew up, and I loved it, even though I had never been a Scout. Two of my sons are Eagle Scouts, one fell just short, other interests intervened. But in my heart, they are all Eagle Scouts and I am equally proud of all their accomplishments, they are fine young men. In their honor I have another pin on my pack, next to the Thunderbird, which indicates that I am an "Eagle Scout Dad." Indeed I am, and proud to tell the world about my wonderful sons.
I am also excited at the prospect of my trek benefiting the next generation which will be responsible for appreciating and preserving our shrinking wilderness. WildLink will be the beneficiary of any who wish to make a donation, and I have made a decision about taking those contributors with me. Besides carrying a satellite tracker so that any who are interested can follow my progress and in some small way be a part of the adventure, I have made another decision in the last day or so. I will exit the JMT sometime on September 11th, or 9/11, as that infamous date will forever be known in our culture. If all goes according to plan I will spend the night on Mt. Whitney, highest mountain in the contiguous United States and wake up on that high peak early in the morning on 9/11. I am sure that among other emotions I will say a prayer for those lost on that day years ago, but I plan to add my own twist. I will carry a list of all who have contributed and I will read their names aloud on Mt. Whitney summit on 9/11 as a way to recognize them and give them my heartfelt thank you.
So the preparation, planning and training continue as my departure looms every closer. In about seven weeks Rosie and I will take our first steps down the trail, but I am comforted by the fact that we will surely not be alone as we disappear into the woods, for we will have an abundance of people, both past and present, who will accompany us on our adventure and be thought of often.
© 2015 James McGregor Gibson