Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Coast Trail
By Cheryl Strayed
Published: 2012
Read: May 2012
Wild is an awesome, captivating story. Cheryl Strayed is a 26-year-old woman solo-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in the summer of 1995. The way she writes the book makes you feel as though she is telling you her story through the quick-turning pages. The reading experience is quite different than the first book review I wrote, with this book having fewer (almost none) LOL moments. Instead, I was living the story while intimately understanding Cheryl's transformation as she grew not only physically, but more importantly, mentally and spiritually, while hiking the trail. I simply could not put this book down.
Throughout the 315 pages, Cheryl keeps things interesting by weaving the trail hiking experience with stories from her past as they came up as issues and emotions she dealt with and conquered. The motivation for hiking was to refocus her life after grieving the painful loss of her mother and the ensuing disintegration of her family and her marriage. She was also breaking free of old bad habits while building self-confidence to make herself whole again.
The way Cheryl makes the read feel like she's telling you her story personally is through her unique writing style. I remember being a bit thrown off during the first few pages by the punctuation and sentence formatting. Re-reading them now makes me realize it was just an adjustment period in getting to know Cheryl's voice.
"It was the thing that had compelled [the trail creators and advocates] to fight for the trail against all the odds, and it was the thing that drove me and every other long-distance hiker onward on the most miserable days. It had nothing to do with gear or footwear or the backpacking fads or philosophies... It had only to do with how it felt to be in the wild."
(Pg 207)
"I was entering. I was leaving. California streamed behind me like a long silk veil. I didn't feel like a big fat idiot anymore. And I didn't feel like a hard-ass motherfucking Amazonian queen. I felt fierce and humble and gathered up inside, like I was safe in this world too."
(Pg 234)
"I've given you everything," [Cheryl's mother] insisted again and again in her last days. "Yes," I agreed. She had, it was true. She did. She did. She did. She'd come at us with maximum maternal velocity. She hadn't held back a thing, not a single lick of her love."
(Pg 268)
Cheryl focuses on the right topics for the right amount of time. You want to read every word, rather than feeling tempted to skip over boring, needlessly descriptive sections. Her adventure makes readers (...at least me...) want to get out there and hike - to feel the blisters, the lost toe nails, the sweat-coated body - all for the purpose of experiencing the same transformation that Cheryl underwent. The trail's physical demands forced so much focus on the physical and basic needs of life that the petty, irrelevant issues of Cheryl's past life were cast away, easily rolled off the side of one of the many mountains she traversed. Hiking also built up her confidence to deal with the issues of her mom passing away and her wandering lifestyle.
Things I think I'll remember most about this book:
(and things that will make more sense after reading the book:)
2nd skin
Boots and puffy toes
Boxes waiting at secluded post offices
Literally living on next to nothing
Monster
Camaraderie from fellow trail mates
Food. Fresh. And cold Snapple
Cold sweat
Just keep going.
While I naturally paint a picture of the scenes and events Cheryl depicts in the novel, there are some places she describes that seem absolutely beautiful. Because they are actual places, I wanted to look a few of them up:
Crater Lake (http://planetoddity.com)
Mt. Hood (http://www.discovernw.org)
Thanks, Luke, for recommending this book! I loved reading it!!
Hill Country is a common phrase out here in Texas. Being in Austin, it's known to be 'West' ... with 'west' meaning pretty much anywhere west of Austin. Being a lover of nature, I find it hard to believe that I've never explored any area of this state that promises 'hills'. Before 5 pm on Sunday, May 6th, the farthest west I'd ever travelled was to the well-known Oasis Restaurant with my parents, which is on the east side of Lake Travis (about 20 minutes from downtown).
Come 5pm this afternoon, as I'm sitting in my new favorite coffee shop hoping that being surrounded by other people studying for finals will help me study for finals, I realize that I finally have some breathing room: nothing is absolutely due tomorrow. So, after getting to a good stoping point, I decide to satisfy the itch that's been building up every since I moved here. I'm heading out to see as much of the hill country as I can before sunset.
Walking out of the coffee shop, I've got the names of 4 roads written on my inside palm. After consulting mapquest, these will get me pretty far out, and then I can figure out where to go from there. 4 roads means 4 numbers, and something I've come to learn about TX is that the farther out you go, the more likely you're going to be on a FM#### road (FM means Farm to Market .. thanks dad for the tip before moving out here!: )
It takes about 20 minutes to get farther out than I've ever been before and I get a little giddy as I pass the sign for the Oasis... new territory. The welcome sign for Jonestown, TX is reassuring and exciting - this city is apparently the 'Gateway to the Hill Country'.
It's a gorgeous day. The 90 degree sun on my skin is cooled off by the wind blowing through my open windows. The roads I'm on are 40-55 mph roads, but they're hilly and windy. I pass a rock/aggregate quarry. Hidden behind trees, the short glimpse over my shoulder I get reveals a huge pit with no sign of a bottom. There are other treats along the way. Lake Travis, west of Austin, is a popular water-sports lake. Last year, however, Lake Travis was in the news for a different reason - being bone dry in some parts and having a deficit of ~50 feet. I've seen pictures, but I can't believe what I see driving by this afternoon. Wildflowers are growing in the area that is obviously a lakebed: there are docks with boats in them sitting in a field of wildflowers.
There's a point where I crest a hill and my mouth literally drops and my breath is taken away. The view of the hills is gorgeous. Once I figure out why it impresses me so much, I realize that for almost a year, I haven't truly been on a hill top with a view of land around me. There is something so captivating about cresting a ridge and seeing beautiful land for as far as you can see.
If there were any objective to this trip besides simply getting out there, it's to see the Balcones Canyonlands National Wildlife Refuge. It's the largest expanse of 'green' on my map anywhere near Austin, so I'm drawn to it. Part of my drive takes me along the border and then through the Refuge. It is a different kind of beautiful than I'm used to. Instead of the lush trees and greenery of the East Coast, the trees here seem a little less dense and a little less tall. The ground follows the same 'less lush' feel in the fact that it's dry and light-colored as opposed dark, fertile soil. But, it's still pretty. Wildflowers line most of the roads - purples, reds, pinks, blues, all so pretty. And, getting out of the city means the views are farther reaching, meaning I can finally see large expanses of land again.
When I get tired of the cars behind me making me feel like I need to hurry up, I turn. On the roads with only one lane in each direction, I try to at least go the speed limit while still stealing looks at the scenery. It's a happy reminder of the difference between the joy of driving through gorgeous country versus simply getting through it. There isn't much wildlife, actually, besides a few cows here and there, as well as a few horses. I made a MapMyRide of the drive so that I'd be able to recall exactly where I went.
MapMyRide Map
It isn't till about the road going through the Refuge (the road through the green area in the picture above) that I feel like I can safely snap a few pictures. When there is no car traffic for 10 minutes, I feel like it's safe to slow down a little bit.
Being out here is so peaceful. Me, my car, good music, sunshine, and cool wind. Freedom.
Notice the trees. I don't know what kind they are yet, but they're awesome! Different than the kind back
on the East Coast... Kind of safari-like.
You can see for forever! The flowers in the foreground are a little blurry, but they were so pretty.
It's also on the road going through the Wildlife Refuge that I start feeling nature calling on my bladder. All the water from the coffee shop is catching up to me right on time, about an hour into my drive (I obviously know too much about my the size of my bladder.. hehe, I suppose a side effect of constantly having a water bottle with me). One of the wonderful, terrible things about being out in the middle of nowhere, is that you're out in the middle of nowhere.
I find a decent looking gas station when I get back into civilization... aka Leander, TX. The pit stop turns into kind of a break from driving. After using the restroom and typing up a few notes back in the truck (truck), I notice there's now empty space in the tummy. The Blue Bell ice cream sandwich back inside is calling my name. It's satisfying knowing that this awesome adventure cost $1.50, with tax (plus 1/4 tank of gas... but that's not an immediate cost :P). Eating the ice cream sandwich is an excuse to people watch. I'm surprised when I realize almost everyone at the gas station is getting beer. Either a six pack or two, or a big bag of those extra tall, cold cans. It's Sunday. Hmm. Maybe it's the fact that this is the closest establishment for a long while, which draws in a lot of thirsty people...
Once in Leander, the drive pretty much runs through civilization the whole way. Which, is a neat chance to notice the suburbs! The land is fairly flat, and stone is everywhere. White stone houses, buildings, and retaining walls. Even neighborhood entrances are marked by a big flat-sided stone with the name etched in cursive. I think it's a pretty kind of architecture, and, combined with the weather and the landscape, reminds me of being out West (the West US, not West TX). There are also lots of drainage ditches on the sides of roads. These are easy to notice because they look like big slabs of concrete laid over the land. A mark of being in a dry area is that drainage, when it does rain, becomes a big deal. The sudden introduction of rain to an area with parched earth that can't absorb much water usually means flooding if there aren't well-designed concrete ditches and drainage systems.
I can't wait to get back out there. Maybe next time I'll actually have a chance to get out of my car.
The Hill Country gives me one last treat as I'm heading home and hit the highway. The view in my rearview mirror is a rose/amarillo sunset.
One of my favorites :) (Just replace 'farm' with 'ranch' :)
