Yesterday, I realized that the trip had been marked by a bipolar character up to that point, alternating more enjoyable days with more exhausting or challenging ones. I was pleased, then, to finally break the streak today, completing my second consecutive easy-enough day.
The funny thing, though, is that sometimes the easier days become the hardest to write about. I spent most of the walk on another rail trail, the Nickel Plate, and it brought me through one sizable town–Denver, where I stopped for a coffee, though the café was empty–and a smaller village, Macy. Some occasional bikers rode past. The most unusual development was that I ran into another USA Crosser, a man named Dana who had been part of a biking race going from Seattle to DC. While he fell ill in Montana and thus lost a week, he’s recovered and committed to finishing.
The question of motivation is a curious thing out here. It comes up a lot on the Camino as well, of course, as people often come to the walk–especially the first time–with some heavier personal experiences to sort through. That’s often intensified with trans-US walkers, who often identify an explicit cause they’re walking in support of, using it in many cases as a fund-raising initiative. In two conversations today at the Walmart, I was asked explicitly about my motivation or reasons for walking, and oddly enough I feel more like a phony here than I do on the Camino when addressing it. For whatever reason, “seeing the country” smacks of wishy-washiness, lacking the intense piety that often imbues these longer walks with deeper meaning and significance.
That’s not to say that the people I’m speaking with are negatively judging my response. In some ways, I think highlighting my background–a teacher from Portland, Oregon, who has spent most of his life in the Pacific Northwest, wanting to see the country from much more divergent perspectives–can open the door to the conversations I’m most eager to have with people. But there’s nonetheless a certain implication–and maybe it lives most prominently in my head–that a long endurance challenge should be devotional.
I’m making my walk on the American Discovery Trail, which sought to link Washington DC and San Francisco (extending onward from each to the Atlantic and Pacific respectively), and it cobbles together a bunch of different already-established routes. If you’ve been reading over the past week, you’ve already seen me walk on the Cardinal Greenway, Sweetser Switch Trail, and now the Nickel Plate.
The ADT, though, is not the only movement to link together a coast-to-coast route through the US. Another initiative is taking shape, and it has been extensively marketed on the Nickel Plate. It’s called the Great American Rail Trail, and it’s coming along! Nearly 55% of the route is already operational, and it aligns with Dana’s trajectory, running from Washington state to Washington DC. Admittedly, I think I might lose my mind if I exclusively followed rail trails on foot all the way across the country. What is gained in safety and quiet is counterbalanced by a certain monotony of views at certain points. On bike, though, I think this could be an awesome way to see the country. Regardless, it’s exciting to see alternatives taking shape to get people out of their cars and actively exploring the country at ground level.
