Atlanta

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It’s another god-awful early rise, then sitting like a sardine with my knees pressed against the seat in front of me on two flights to Atlanta for a hike.

But look on the bright side, my the agent changed non-changeable seat out of the middle.

Be grateful for the small wins.

I’m reading “The Last Great Walk” on my Kindle. It’s about professional long distance walker Edward Payson Weston who took himself on his own two legs from New York to San Francisco…

in 1909…

in 100 days…

when he was 70.

Weston dressed in fanciful outfits, mostly so he could be recognized.

He was more of a get-from-point-A-to-point-B kinda walker as opposed to a saunterer/philosopher like Muir who used walking as a means to enter the church of nature.

Still, he lived at the dawn of the automobile and expounded on the health benefits of walking when speed was heralded as a moral good, and moving slowly, eg walking, was considered the new evil.

It’s not lost on me that I am flying half way across the country, then driving a few hours to get to the start of my walk.

My voice actor friend Billie picks me up at the MARTA station and takes me back to her stunning top floor apartment smack dab on Atlanta’s beltway.

We get right on it in perfect spring weather, walking and gossiping like old friends, when in actuality, we have only met on Facetime all these years.

In Weston’s life, people mostly walked everywhere. Trains were expensive and cars had few good roads. It wasn’t unusual to walk to school, walk to work, walk to visit relatives.

The beltway has few rules, so we share it with bikes – and scooters, ebikes, one-wheels and very quiet motor cycles careening through the crowds.

I take the inside lane. Not another summer down the drain due to injury/illness/whathaveyou.

Unscathed, we explore the urban malls and I load up on greens and healthy food I won’t have on trail. Billie picks up a few semi precious rocks at Ponce for good luck. I just handle them all hoping a bit of magic rubs off.

We take a swim (more of a cold plunge wade) and explore some more, then hang out with her actor roommate and girlfriend into the wee actor hours.

I find a large hole in the bottom of my pack, and Billie shares her talent with needle and thread patching it right up.

I’m glad I have Wayne Curtis’ book with me on this trail and can read more about this pro pedestrian, plus tidbits on the science of walking. Certainly gives me topics of discussion!

More than that, I’ve been a bit leery about the obsession with miles and speed. It sort of defeats the purpose of walking in the wild.

But the obsession predates me, for sure, and is collective, just part of what makes us human to celebrate seemingly impossible physical feats – as well as desire to take on any number of unpleasant conditions to achieve them.

I can tell you this for certain: ain’t no one wagering a bet on this Blissful Hiker’s walk. I’ve set it up so I can either ‘get there’ through the Smokies to Hot Springs ()or so, or just up and quit right away when the rain gets to be too much.

Hmmm, I’m beginning to see the makings of a wager…anyone a betting man out there?!?