Claire Henley: Adventures West (Final Thoughts Before A New Start)

  • Wednesday, September 2, 2015
On the trail
On the trail

(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).

“One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time.”

–Annie Dillard

Earlier this week I went to a family cookout at my uncle’s lake house in Dayton. I have a large family—there’s at least forty of us when we all get together—and as we ate wild hog and sipped sweet tea, warm rain drizzling over the pavilion we sat beneath that opened to a long field and slithering slough, I answered my family members’ many questions about the PCT, after which the resounding response from aunts, uncles, and cousins came: “This is the time in your life to do this.”

In two days I start the trail. Since age eighteen, a long-distance hike has been something I’ve desired to do. That’s seven years in the making, and for the past two years I pinpointed the PCT and strived to get there. So my family was right. This is the time in my life to follow through with my passion. However, instead of simply accepting their reassuring reaction, it provoked me to ask: What time is it for you?

Because this will be my last post before I get walking, I thought I’d tell how this time in my life came to be, since it did not come instantly but over the growing course of many years that enabled me to know its aptness. I am an athlete to the core who has played sports since I could stand. I ran against my brother at Riverview Park as a three year old, played soccer for the YMCA when I was ten, attempted basketball in middle school, did well in volleyball and tennis in my teens, joined the rowing club in college, and have experienced seasons of rock climbing, kayaking, and snow skiing, too. And all throughout my involvement in the game (or match, or regatta, or race), I hiked.

Hiking became my favorite sport by far for many reasons. For starters, you experience every level of physical, mental, and spiritual intensity while hiking—from absolute peace to heart-pounding drive. You compete on every type of terrain—grass, rock, dirt, and sand. You are challenged by the natural elements—earth, water, and weather. And, if you execute your strategy, you are rewarded with raw beauty and victory that fulfills. These things tied together create the best part of hiking, which is that it takes you places. When you hike, you reach the highest mountaintop; you step into the crystal creek; you find fields that go on forever; and, as in the case of the PCT, you journey the country from end to end. Thus, in the summer of 2013, after I moved back to Tennessee from living in the Rockies (where I discovered the next level of hiking through backpacking), I needed a sport to sink my teeth into. The PCT satisfied my hunger.

But there’s more to the story of this being the time in my life to go for a hike than just my progressive love of the game. See, in addition to my passion for athletics, I’ve always had the passion to write. In fact, I’ll never forget the first day of the First Grade when I went up to Mr. Thomas before the morning bell rang and asked him directly, “When will you teach us to spell?” After that year of life-changing learning, the world of story and creation opened up to me. If I wasn’t on the court or in the field spending my physical energy, I was in my room, at my desk, making up stories.

The first recognition I received as a writer came when I was seven and submitted a story called “A Really Hot Bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup” to a statewide competition that awarded me the silver medal for my age group. From there, I comprised a collection of short stories called Claire’s Stuff—featuring tales like “A Turtle Named Square” and “The Warrior Princess”—that Bridgeview Books (owned by my mom’s close friend) published in plastic binding and a construction paper cover. Over 200 copies sold (to family and members of the church), and, as a result, my first publication landed me on the local news.

After my miniscule fame quickly faded, however, so did my vigor towards my craft. In middle school, apart from making up funny songs with my good friend Heidi, I neglected writing. Then, during my first three years of high school, though I did best in English and it was my favorite subject, I forgot my love of putting pen to paper for the sake of creating completely. Something went missing inside. My spirit sagged. And it wasn’t until my senior year when I had an English teacher named Mr. Pettit—a wise and caring man with a strong yet quiet presence—that I awakened to exactly what I was without: my purpose.

And here’s how I woke up. Mr. Pettit had his students keep journals—five pages a week—where we were free to write anything. I treasured this assignment, looked forward to it, and within a matter of weeks, writing in my journal changed from something I did for a grade, to something I had to do to fill that “something missing.” I was telling my stories again. My spirit was brought back to life. And I knew for certain that writing was what I was put on earth to do when Mr. Pettit—the greatest teacher I’ve ever had—pulled me aside after class one day and said, “You’re the best writer I’ve taught in thirty years.”

After that, I went to college, waited tables, then worked in the corporate world. And though I rose each morning before my workday began to write, again I neglected my purpose by not pursuing it fully; so again I experienced that soul-sucking void. But, over the last several months as I readied for the PCT while also examining these aspects of my life, I finally came to the conclusion to make writing my workday. Therefore, six weeks ago, I put in my two-weeks notice at the corporation, and for the last month I’ve spent Monday through Friday at my writing station at home. Though no paycheck has come in the mail, I’ve never worked harder. And never have I been more fulfilled by my task.

Thus, after years of steady development, not only is it time to apply my physical ability for all it’s worth by taking a 2,600-mile hike, but it’s also time to max out my mental muscle by writing. The beauty in these dual endeavors is that the PCT will serve as the backdrop and fuel for the blank page. For the story of friendship, hardship, and splendor unfolds on the trail. And I want to try to tell it.

To wrap things up, yes, this is the time in my life to do what I’m doing—pursue enduring passion and purpose. However, I didn’t reveal these things about myself to convince you of that, but rather to paint a picture of one looking back on life to find what she has loved all along in hopes that you may do the same and find it’s the time in your life to pursue your purpose, too. And we all have one. A purpose that is. We were born with it, like a limb we need to operate with that only grows as we grow; only, it’s not always as obvious as an arm or leg, but it is something attached, and something that, if it were to be cut off, we would desperately miss.

So do not wait but ask yourself now, “What time is it for me?” Then start your great search. Can you imagine a world where we performed the unique tasks we were created to do over the one where we let pass our days like fenced-in sheep? Even if we failed—which, at times, we will—I think this world of gratifying effort would offer much less sorrow and apathy, and much more peace and joy. All of this to say: please join the journey I’m about to take—the one of following what rightly fulfills. Because I bet, like me, you hunger for something more, too. So this is the time in your life to do this: seek your God-given talents like the most precious treasure. Then spend them. Spend them all the way.

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

Budding author
Budding author
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