It’s nearly midnight. After a day of delay, the trail starts tomorrow.
I’m not certain how to feel. Waves of fear, enthusiasm, anxiety, excitement, regret, and anticipation are slamming into me, one after another. The day has been full of plotting and planning resupply strategies with my wife, packing and repacking Idris and my food supply, updating lists and ledgers and and addresses. I’ve been unsubscribing from email feeds so my inbox doesn’t explode; my SPOT is hooked up and ready to relay my status to my family; maps have been sorted and stored for future pick-up.
My brain is in so many places that I’m not certain any of this makes much sense. But I thought it would be useful to inaugurate my daily blogging on this eve before the journey begins.
On the night before an epic quest, does every pilgrim feel this?
My pack weighs 32 pounds, with about 8 pounds of food and another 4.5 pounds of water. At times, it feels monstrously heavy; at others, I’m surprised I have as much crammed in there as I do. My whole life reduced down to 60 liters.
The most important parts of my life I’m leaving behind me, though they are squarely in my favor, and I’ll be seeing them at resupply stops along much of the way. After long talks with them this evening, I’m more enthused, more determined, and more heartbroken about leaving.
One foot in front of the other. That’s all I need to worry about for the next many months. Voy con Dios.