Problems to solve

On any good hike, there are endless problems to solve. Which way to walk, what about the weather, how best to ford the river, how to get through the marsh with dry feet, how to approach the rock scramble, how to re-locate the trail after bypassing the too-soft snow field. I generally enjoy these puzzles, and find them to be part of the charm of the endeavor. But in this scenario, they are the last, and arguably the easiest problems of any given day.

Backing up from there, I have to select the hike: Not too long but long enough, decent elevation, challenging but not scary, not too many people, steeper on ascent, gentler on descent (other parts of me may not be so clear, but my knees know exactly how old I am). I am all about the views, so don’t stick me in the forest, and a summit always makes me happy. Loops are ideal. Go ahead and call me Goldilocks. But a “just right” hike is the best thing.

Before that, I have to select the area to even search for a hike in, and in Norway, that’s a tall order. This country is huge, and I start from total ignorance. Moving between AllTrails, Norweigen hiking apps, and paper maps, I muddle along painfully.

But more than that, this whole undertaking is a series of problems to solve:
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Where to drive
Where to park for the night
What to eat
Where to poop
Where to get gas
Where to walk
What to take in my backpack
What to do about the lost credit card.

I am actually proud of that last one. As I have mentioned, one of my efforts on this trip has been to pay better attention and be responsive. When I start worrying that my wallet isn’t in my backpack, I stop and check. When I see that I could have parked in a better spot for my hike, I go back and move the van. Historically I have been so focused on the next thing — the momentum of forward motion overruling doubts or misgivings. Even on this trip, early on I drove right past the strawberry farm without stopping to get some — I can’t stop thinking about it.

So anyway, getting gas, my card wasn’t in my wallet. I checked my pack, my pockets. I had tried to use it to get gas the day before, and it had been declined. So as I am using my back-up card and getting gas and starting down the road again, I am replaying that earlier episode, thinking maybe I could have dropped it as I tried different cards. But then I remember that I actually used it after that to book a room later in the trip. So I definitely had it. I stopped, turned the van around, drove a couple of miles back to the gas station, and there it lay, blending in with the black asphalt. Success!

Part of the trick here is that I am not trying to be anywhere at any particular time. Not since I was a free-range, feral child on the commune have I had so little concern about time. I have nowhere to be, no-one to meet, no schedule to keep. I can walk all day or sleep all day. No one is expecting me. I don't even have to consider daylight — the hiker’s ultimate limitation — because the sun never sets in this wild place. I am rolling in time, which is the height of ironies, because time is actually my most limited resource. I have never had as little time as I have now, while I live in its abundance. I have more time today than I will tomorrow, and less time now than I have ever had in my life.

It’s been a while now, but for decades I lived by the 50 minute hour. Every moment of my day was triple-claimed, and I flowed directly from one thing to the next without pause. It was intense, but I loved it. I loved being crazy busy, much as I loved smoking — everything about it. And I gave them both up in service of a longer health span. Well, that’s true of smoking, but not entirely true of the busyness. I gave that up to make space for something else. Was it this?

Today I had a true Goldilocks hike! Best one yet. I got poured on all along the summit, and then the sun came out at the end. Did not see a soul, but there was a set of tracks right in front of me, and fresh, you know, mud sharply pressed, prints still wet on "dry" rock. Every time I lost the trail (several), when I got back on, that was the first thing I saw, that track. How did she stay just ahead of me and invisible along that long flat plateau?? Mysterious. Must have been a trail angel.