Claire Henley: Adventures West (A Change Of Direction: Part 2)

  • Friday, October 9, 2015
By the water
By the water

(Editor's Note: Chattanoogan Claire Henley started an adventure of a lifetime on the remote Pacific Crest Trail in April. Along the way, she had many adventures and found herself a husband named Big Spoon).

In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

-John Muir 

“Honestly, I’m done,” said Big Spoon as we ate our lunch on the side of the trail. It was the day after we left Sierra City. It was the day our journey would change. The road leading to the town of Quincy was fifteen miles ahead. We stopped for lunch on a wooded bluff, as well as to have a conversation I didn’t see coming. The beastly sun fired down like dragon’s breath. The week before had rattled us with heavy storms. Thunder roared and hail stung our exposed skin as we hiked. The nights were cold and the mornings brought frost. But we kept on. We kept on. We kept on. Until now. Now the days were hot as Hell. 

Earlier that morning when Big Spoon and I began our daily tromp, no one else joined. It had been this way for several weeks. All the hikers we started with in April had dispersed on the trail like ripples in a lake. Seeing a friend on the trail had become as rare and exciting as seeing an eagle or a bear. Big Spoon and I weren’t lonely because we had each other. But we did lack that sense of community that once gave us motivation to endure the grueling aspects of the trek. 

The hiking had turned redundant. Day after day the trail took us on a monotonous tour through pine after pine as we came nearer and nearer to the Cascades. I counted down the days until this trip would end. From the start, my goal was to walk from Mexico to Canada. That’s what I set out to do. And when I set out to do something, that’s what I would do. If I didn’t complete my stated task, then I failed. That’s how I saw it, at least. 

Big Spoon and I were nearly halfway to Canada; another hundred miles and we would be. Halfway was a feat, but it was only halfway. The thought of having to hike another thirteen-hundred miles until we reached the end discouraged me. However, not once did I think of quitting the PCT. My nature didn’t allow me to quit. To quit when I had proclaimed all along that I would complete the trail was both weakness and fraud. I wouldn’t stand for that. I would push through to the end even though I no longer found joy in the journey. I would push through even though I longed for my day of freedom from the trail.

That afternoon on the wooded bluff, I sat on a rock and picked at my peanutbutter sandwich while Big Spoon stood looking out on the green valley below. He didn’t say a word for he was contemplating something. Several minutes of silence passed by before I finally asked what was on his mind.

“Do you want me to answer truthfully, or do you want me to say what you want to hear?” He turned to me and asked. 

The solemnity in his voice let me know I wouldn’t like what was coming, and I uttered back, “Truthfully, of course.”

“Honestly,” Big Spoon said, his eyes locked into mine, “I’m done.” 

My heart broke because I knew what he meant when he said he was done. Nevertheless, I asked in a challenging tone, “What do you mean you’re done?”

Big Spoon moved toward me but continued to stand. “Claire, I don’t know if you realize this, but you and I came into this trail with different outlooks,” Big Spoon spoke with his hands to emphasize his speech. “Your goal was to walk from Mexico to Canada. My goal was to explore the West. I viewed the PCT as a neat way to do this, but I only planned to hike it as long as I saw fit. I didn’t need to walk seven-hundred miles in the desert to see what the desert was all about. Fifty miles would’ve done the job, and then I would’ve skipped ahead to the Sierra.” 

Big Spoon drew a deep breath before he went on: “But then I met you, Claire. And we got married. Claire, we got married. And I saw how important the trail was to you. I decided to stay on the trail for you, and I will continue to stay on the trail for you. But the truth is that I’ve had enough of the trail. I’ve had enough of hiking twenty-five miles a day, day after day after day. We’ve been doing this for three months, and I know how to thru hike now. I know how to walk all day, set up camp, come into town and resupply. There’s nothing new to learn now, nothing new to figure out. You know, I used to see a unique formation off the trail and walk over to it to explore. That was something I loved to do. But now, when I come across something cool and different that’s not on the trail, I pass it by. Why? Because if I take the time to go check it out, then I’m losing time to make our miles. It’s all about making the miles these days, so I fall behind if I want to see something amazing off the trail. It’s like we’re on a cross-country road trip, speeding down the highway, missing everything that’s around. It takes more effort to take the back-roads where all the scenery is, just like it takes more work and effort to view something amazing off the trail. Well, I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t want to work that hard anymore. And you know what? That is pathetic.” 

He spat the word, “pathetic,” from his mouth with disgust. 

“It’s pathetic, Claire, and it’s this trail–having to make our daily miles without being able to stop and take in this amazing world–that has caused this indifference in me. It’s like the trail has been too much of a good thing, and now it’s poisoning me.”

Big Spoon looked tired, more tired than I’d ever seen him. I knew he was going through a rough patch on the trail, but I didn’t realize it was this severe. Regardless, I replied to his confession out of anger instead of compassion, “How long have you felt this way?” 

“A while,” Big Spoon said. “On and off since Tehachapi. But I didn’t want to bring it up because I know how much you want to finish. But I just can’t keep it in anymore. I don’t want to upset you. It’s just, I don’t even like backpacking. To walk all day carrying a heavy load from one place to the next isn’t as logical to me as, say, setting up a base camp and exploring around that area for several days at a time. That’s what I like to do. The whole reason I even chose to do the PCT was because my coworker and friend, Joseph, inspired me to. He had done it before and wanted to do it again, and he asked me to be his partner. Then last minute Joseph told me he wasn’t going to go because he couldn’t find a reason to hike the PCT again, and that there wasn’t any use in doing a thru hike if he didn’t have a reason. I could’ve easily told him, that’s fine, we’ll just do something else. But something told me I should still hike the PCT. And since I’d been preparing for that particular journey, I felt confident enough to go on my own.

“Well, Claire,” Big Spoon continued as he neared closer to me, “now I know the reason I was meant to get on this trail was you. What else do I need from this trail now? I got a wife out of it. Others will say they got Canada, but I get to say I got my wife. I don’t have to prove anything to anybody by making it to Canada. And I know everyone has told us that if we can make it through this, then we can make it through anything. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve already made it through this. We’ve walked nearly thirteen-hundred miles. In my mind, we’ve already thru hiked the PCT. So why draw it out?” 

I was on the verge of tears and weakly answered my husband, “But we’ll be failures if we don’t finish.”

“Not in my eyes,” Big Spoon said. His expression was deep and sure. “In my eyes, it doesn’t make sense to keep doing something if my heart isn’t in it. I know I can do it, but what’s the point? What am I gaining by walking all the way to Canada when I feel I’ve already found what this trail had to offer me? It’s like what Deb, the woman who gave us a ride in Tahoe, had to say about how thru hikers live twenty years in five months. The trail is an intense magnification of life–life’s trials, beauty, and wonders. And while this is true, it makes me ask, but how do I want to live this powerful stretch of life? Do I want to live it just so I can say I walked from Mexico to Canada, or do I want to live it for something more, something that excites me and makes my spirit alive?”

I fought to keep down my tears. Big Spoon could tell what I was doing by my contorted face and sat next to me on the rock. He put his arm around me. “I know it’s different for you, Claire. I know you want to finish. And don’t worry, I will finish this trail with you. But to be honest, if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been off this trail long ago.” 

With these final words, I started to cry. But why I cried I didn’t quite know, and as Big Spoon held me close, I thought to myself on the matter. I desired to hike the whole PCT. I did, I really did. But why? Initially, the reason was for life. I was tired of living my life in a comfortable box and realized if I didn’t get out, I would slowly suffocate to death. So I got out of the box. I went from east to west, from corporate life to life in the wild. In this new life I met the man who soon became my husband. Our lives as one began on the trail. How exciting, how new, how wonderful was this life! The focus went from my life on the trail to my life as Caleb Miller’s wife. How much better was the life of love than the one of our long-walking days. There was so much to experience with the life of love, so much to hold and cherish and rejoice in. And now I was starting to see that Big Spoon was right. How the trail had become too much of a good thing. Because now I could see how it was dragging me down and detracting from the wonder and beauty of my newly married life. The purpose of the journey had been lost: the trail no longer brought me to life, but suffocated me by its long and narrow track. However, though I was dead-tired of hiking, I wouldn’t admit it. I would stay on the trail until it was complete because that’s what I set out to do. 

And now I started to see myself for who I really was. I started to see how full of pride I was to take part in something that deadened my spirit, all for the sake of not being labeled a failure. I saw how stubborn and selfish I had become, so much so that I didn’t even sense Big Spoon had continued on the trail for me. He was sacrificing himself for me, and I didn’t even see. My ambition and pride blinded me so. My heart broke over such understanding. My heart broke over Big Spoon’s love for me. 

I had a decision to make; it came down to me whether or not we would stay on the trail. Through a choked-up voice I asked Big Spoon, “What would we do if we got off?”

His face lit up, and for the first time that day he smiled. “Remember when we first entered the Sierra and sat beneath the bridge where all the swallows had built their nests?” He said. 

I nodded and Big Spoon went on: “And remember how you asked me about the purpose of life, and how I said it was to experience as much as possible, as if life was like a library where we had the ability to read from any book on any page?” 

“Yes, I remember,” I said. 

“Well, if we got off the trail, we would start a new experience. Claire, we would pull a different book off the library shelf.” 

The thought of this excited me. After all, our time and money were holding out. We could get off the PCT and start a new experience, something I hadn’t realized as a possibility until this moment. Still, I was torn on the matter because we had worked so hard and come so far. The PCT had become my life. Walking all day in the woods and sleeping each night in a different place was what I knew. It would not be easy to simply say, yes, let’s pick up and abruptly change what we now know as our lives. But deep down I knew that’s what needed to be done. 

“It’s as if we won,” Big Spoon said to me that evening as we reached the road to Quincy. There was smoke in the sky from a wildfire miles away. The setting sun cast its blood orange glow into the scented haze, and it felt like the trail was smoking us out by the time we made our twenty-five miles for the day. All my hopes and expectations had been wrapped up in reaching Canada. Wrapped up so tightly I couldn’t see there was another journey beyond this journey that was calling out my name. 

It was our last day on the PCT. After my and Big Spoon’s talk on the bluff, I made the call to get off the trail. Big Spoon couldn’t have been more happy, and his happiness eased my broken heart. I couldn’t know what awaited us now, but I had to trust it was something good, something better. We would get a hitch into Quincy and then figure out our next step. 

“What do you mean we won?” I asked Big Spoon as I took off my pack and set it down on the side of the road.

“Well, we realized before having to hike another thirteen-hundred miles that the PCT isn’t all there is. The whole world is our trail. Our journey isn’t ending just because we’re getting off the PCT. It’s changing, that’s all. So we’re not failures for not finishing. We realized we could make a good and necessary change, and we’re taking the actions to do so. Claire, we won.”

“The world is our trail,” I said to myself, looking down the road. “The world is our trail.” It struck me then like a bright bolt of lightning that I was no longer a thru hiker. It struck me then that I was something more. I was a child of God who had been given the whole world to walk upon, not merely the PCT. How electrifying it felt to realize Big Spoon and I weren’t ending our grand adventure. How electrifying it felt to know that, in altering our adventure’s course, we were keeping it alive.

* * *

Claire's first book on her adventures while living in Colorado can be ordered here:

http://www.amazon.com/51-Weeks-The-Unfinished-Journey-ebook/dp/B00IWYDLBQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394801373&sr=8-1&keywords=51+Weeks

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