Creeper Trail bridge in Damascus
Up until Damascus, I hadn't considered what I was doing on trail. Yes, some things were obvious -- walking up and down mountain ridges all day. Eating the same meal. Sweat, cold, humidity, ice, wind, soil, bugs, filtering water, digging cat holes, rocks, roots, feet down there somewhere, the meal plan, 5000 calories/day, sleeping under the stars, vistas, fresh air, no phone, no lights, no motorcars. I'm conflicted. Loving this life. The low point was that death march into the Blueberry Patch. Since then, things have been just getting better.
But had I concentrated on what I was doing out here, vs. just letting the journey happen? It's the journey that matters, not the destination, right? Why am I so hung up on destinations?