As for who makes the laptops and carts, well, he doesn’t, I don’t and neither do you. Somebody is, though, and I say let ‘em. Damned glad they’re doing it. And I hope they realize they don’t have to forever. Doesn’t make any difference. So what if they don’t get made, not my responsibility. There’s a higher calling for us all, a duty to humanity to show there is more than making laptops and carts, more than doing what I did yesterday ad infinitum, a duty to wander into the wilderness to see what barriers in my mind will give way.

I know you very, very well, and could write a detailed anonymous description which your family and friends would recognize immediately.

And by the way, you have the same clues about me, and could do the same about me had you spent the time doing what I did. There’s no magic.

Transparency is one of the greatest virtues a person can have and offer. Our secrets, or supposed secrets, can, will and do kill us. And on some scales people are pretty much alike.

And only one reason for doing it.

And people aren’t afraid to die, they are afraid they haven’t lived. “Is that all there is? It can’t be over!!”

It takes guts, strength, vision and an acceptance of the unknown to climb out of a rut and avoid sliding down the familiar funnel of mediocrity into a quick service and a long, long rest which isn’t much different than the previous years.

BUT SOMEONE HAS TO SHOW YOUR KIDS IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THAT WAY!!! My kids know a person can recover from alcoholism, my Dad died drinking. My kids know an old man can climb a mountain, my Dad wouldn’t walk across the street. My kids know an old man can take his dog and walk 500 miles at a stretch through a wilderness, and thrive. My kids know that their Dad has shown them it’s a duty and privilege to serve the community, to offer comfort and companionship to the frightened and lonely. My Dad thought the world owed him.

As I type this I’m coming to a different view of myself, I actually may have a legacy. Me! I’ve never thought of myself that way.

There are a million reasons and 5 million rationalizations to stay in the rut, to try to convince ourselves it isn’t one and they are all good. Only one to get out.

I’ve got a family to take care of, a wife who needs a lot of support, and I’m working on starting a new career. I’m not complaining–my life is anything but boring. For years now I haven’t done the same job three years running, and while the goose is flying low right now, it’s been in the stratosphere, too.

I’ve arranged my contracts and jobs for many of those years to have my work time be my own to set, so if I wanted to kick off and spend an hour on the bicycle I could. A writer has it even better. It’s amazing how much there is to do and see just in your everyday life around your home town.

I think my mind stretches just fine. I learn new things all the time.

As far as “the Walker” is concerned, I’d want to hear the opinion of his wife and kids on his lifestyle. If everyone just walked around all summer, who’d make his strollers and laptops?

But that bucket is there. It’s just a crap shoot, a matter of inches, the result of decisions made far away and long ago, and our job is to maximize our time while we still have the strength. Somehow I have the sense I need to do something with my life and /or selfr to make up for those who, by the luck of the draw, aren’t here. They should be here, they would have done a better job. Not my decision, though. And I have to make up for the first half, too.

Sometimes the life we live isn’t our own, or for ourselves. We have to enter the realm of being what we aren’t, a scary proposition. “But that just isn’t “me”" leads to stagnation, self-obsession and rot.

Stretch it, it won’t break. No one is indispensable in the short term, allow others to test their own limits.

I want to know what you think of Scotties Castle. I’ll meet you there in a month or so. 450 miles from you, two easy day’s driving.

Take a chance. Drive to Scotties Castle near Death Valley and take the upstairs and downstairs tours. Nearby is the Alabama Hills – Google them, they are amazing.

None of that is expensive, all of it is unique and fascinating, and stretches the mind. The worst thing is to sit around staving it off, only to have the mind stagnate in the same old neighborhood, stores, chores.

A good rule of thumb. If you haven’t done it, do. If you haven’[t eaten it, try. If you don’t know the lifestory of that strange creature, hear it.

In my park there is a black man, dreadlocks, dirty clothing, pushing a runners baby stroller with a tent in it, and everything else. I wandered over and asked if he would like to use the laptop to access the internet, he has a laptop, didn’t need anything. Has been walking around summers for years, winters heads back to his wife and kids. THE GUY IS WALKING. Amazing man

Last I saw of him he was headed to the Laundromat and showers. Wish I had his drive, guts, self-esteem and self-respect. And he’s spending next to nothing. Now there is a guy who isn’t waiting.

The four people with whom I was climbing took off up a loose scree hillside, climbing about 1,000 feet to a plateau which gradually descended to rockfields which led to the camp.* I was too tired to try that hillside, which led straight into the river if the rock gave way, and was prepared to spend the night, anyway. Not comfortably but certainly adequately. I had light, matches, garbage bags, heavy clothing, some food, water, not great but OK.

We argued by radio for a while, but I wasn’t going on and they weren’t coming back so I built a fire and settled in on a sandy, level area with big rock windbreakers. The only wood around was brushy, and burned like gas, so it was either try to sleep or have a fire.

There were no airplanes, no contrails, no nothing there. The Moon went down and so help me the Milky Way was like a fluorescent tube. The meteors lit up the sky almost like magnesium flares for a brief second as they trailed off.

I was exhausted, and cold, as it was close to 20 degrees F. according to my watch thermometer but I couldn’t resist staring at the sky. I welcomed and resented the sleep I got, I welcomed and resented the fire I had, and I was simply hypnotized by all the stars, all the meteors, and the clarity.

And then the dawn. The river had dropped enough to make it around the cliff, and radio contact revealed my friends had walked about halfway to meet me. There was something touching about that, a perfect way to end a miserably delightful night.

*The scale of the hills and valleys in that part of the Andes is not comparable to anything else I’ve seen. A 1,000 foot scree slope with a steep rock cliff above that was not unusual.