Field Program

I was designated journalist for Hitch 2 before we set out on Trail #421 East Moose (again). "Easy," that was my thought. "In this role, I'll make a narrative about our hitch." By Day 2, so far so good; I already had an outline and a great start and ending statement. This is going to be easy.

No. Absolutely not.

Not only was deciding what to write difficult, but this hitch hit me like a train. In this line of work, there are some givens: hard physical labor, heat, and all the bug bites you can imagine. You have to deal with that in any outdoor work, especially Corps Work. But every pain, emotion, nuisance, grievance, or anything you can think of is amplified on an Immersion Crew, so separated from society and usual comforts. It really hit me that we have 8 more 9-day hitches yet. I'm not going to see my family and hometown friends until October?? That hurts. The longing for society and people (outside my crew), having a hard time keeping food down, and having few modern comforts during service time, paired with the obvious difficulties. No wonder this hitch was rough for me.

During the hike to our worksite every day, there was a plethora of wildflowers. Every shape and size and color filling the landscape. My original ending statement fell along the likes of "and like the wildflowers, we are all different shapes, sizes, and colors, but collectively this is our place to bloom." That's a great sentiment and all, but I don't feel like a growing wildflower — especially when I am a crying, snotty mess, and sweating while hiking — much less a blooming one.

Having nothing to occupy the brain just makes things worse once in a down state. The brain cannot magically think itself better, especially after getting stuck trying to remove a grass root ball after 3 days of straight grubbing. Tread work is the hardest, and it seems the most mindless. It becomes easy to think about...

"I miss home, I miss my parents, I miss my bed. I want fresh fruits, vegetables, and frozen goods. I miss my communities, my hometown, my friends. I want to play in a concert band. I want to sing in a choir. I want to participate in team sports. I miss coaching. I miss my students. I want to go back to society!"

...What do you do?

First things first: feel whatever you are feeling, even if that means stopping to cry.

I needed to release a lot of emotions this hitch. Everything felt heightened.

Once you are done with that, you can move on to step two: get up, dust yourself off, and put one foot in front of the other. Like a hike, you will trip, you will stumble, you will fall. When you do, go back to step one. When you are ready, keep putting one foot in front of the other. One word comes next, then sentence, paragraph.

Lastly, but always: reframe and enjoy what you can. We have completed 2 out of 10 hitches. There are only 4 more hitch cycles of two. That's manageable. Only two more off times before mid-season hike out. The most important part, though, is to enjoy what you can. Enjoy the communal dinners, chatting with crewmates, and the smell of the wildflowers. Be amazed at the butterflies, mountains, and absurdity of it all. Look forward to the fresh food, friends, and comforts.

That's what you do. That's what I do.

This gives me space to think and appreciate the amenities and things I do have out here, and certainly everything I have or had ever before.

It's a good time to be alive.

I wonder what other people think about.