I’ve been reading A Long Trek Home, by Erin McKittrick. Erin is the daughter of a good friend and I’ve known her since she was a child. On June 9, 2007 she and her husband, Hig, embarked on a yearlong 4000 mile trek by “boot, raft and ski” from Seattle to Unimak Island in the Aleutians. After their trip, Erin wrote this book.
I began reading Erin’s book with trepidation. My favorite activities in earlier years were skiing when I lived in Colorado and hiking after I moved to California. Walking in the wilderness was when I felt the most alive, the most connected. I’m not able to do that anymore, it’s a trek to walk around my yard. Would it be hard to read about something I used to love and can’t do anymore?
Erin’s book surprised and delighted me. While the audacity of what they did is way beyond anything I could ever have done, the spirit is completely accessible and deeply appreciated. It is the story of two people paying absolute attention to every small detail of a year of their lives. Not all of the details are pleasant. While there is a predictable amount of physical discomfort, Erin’s descriptions are never dramatized. Each adventure, each challenge to be met and worked through is offered as just another step in the journey. Some steps are easy and beautiful, some challenging, frightening, or wildly creative, but each one is only a step. She maps a journey through incredible natural beauty mixed with sober descriptions of the impact of logging, mining, and eroding fisheries on the fragile coasts of Alaska and British Columbia. It is a story not just about pristine nature, but also about the people who live and work along the shoreline.
I don’t want to attempt to recap her story, it is best appreciated by reading her book, but I would like to share some of the personal revelations I had while reading it. I’ve been on my own journey, a vastly different kind of journey, but one that is oddly supported and encouraged by what Erin and Hig share. My journey involves navigating day after day of intense pain. The same spirit of curiosity and endurance applies. The same need to pay attention and savor absolutely every detail, engaging every moment so that no moment of beauty or connection with the animals and humans who I interact with is missed. Even the moments of struggle and indecision add up to a powerful sense of engagement and richness. There is no time for fearful thoughts about potential disasters that lay ahead. The challenges and opportunities of this moment are all consuming. Sharing this adventure with my long term partner, we work together, each doing what we can to serve the journey as a whole.
The landscape isn’t as grand or varied as the Alaskan wilderness, but savoring life’s simple details creates a feeling of wholeness and connectedness. I move slower now so I have lots of time to notice the small things, to feel thankful for the never ending flow of beauty. I can enjoy the sense of accomplishment I feel when I navigate yet another hard spot and come out on the other side able to laugh and feel love and gratitude for the guidance that got me through. I meet the next moment with greater strength and resilience as I learn that it’s not too hard, I can do it.
My life has always had moments of beauty and moments when I paid close attention but a different quality emerges when all of life is met with presence. There is no “time out.” I used to be just biding time, getting through this moment so I could get to the next when I would really pay attention. If every moment is challenging, then each must be met with total awareness. The wonderful thing is that a beautiful life doesn’t come from everything being easy or exactly right, it comes from staying fully present with it just as it is.
It’s a bit of a stretch to compare the incredible trek Erin and Hig took with my own journey, but it gave me a great deal of pleasure to share their story and to allow their courage and endurance to flow into my life. It makes each small step a little easier.
Check out GroundTruthTrekking and A Long Trek Home by Erin McKittrick, published by The Mountaineers Books, Seattle, Washington.
