It’s 11:30pm. Way past bedtime, but I’m packing my things for tomorrow: I’ll start wending my way north from here in Connecticut early tomorrow morning. It is good to be healing, and staph free.*
The sky has been storming all evening. There is thunder everywhere; and has been for the past three hours.
I am procrastinating (as one does) by looking at the website for the folks I’m hoping to go to the Arctic with. Reading their blogs. Plotting?
Very soon, you see; I shall have to pull myself together and make coherent stories about this… um… expedition. Hike. Thing. It is for posterity? …Kidding, kidding. I just have to sit down, and write everything down. Properly. Ugh.
It’s not the application process: I already did that. It’s the putting together a huge (in my head) campaign to go lobby corporations for their moolah. Large expeditions such as this one to the Arctic are expensive by my standards, but to companies with budgets and wishes for good publicity, who want to contribute to something… Well probably we could put together something compelling. Vargo has been my sponsor since before I started hiking in Alabama, and the Maine chapter of the IAT has been helping subsidize my food costs this year. Both are incredible. It is still an intimidating idea, though, a larger campaign? I hate asking people for things. Ugh. This trek has been an education in so many ways, my people.
**President of the Maine Chapter of the IAT, if ya remembah. Only the most helpful person in the world for doing anything.***
***This was a pre-footnote. Don’t be confused.
On the topic of asking, I got to meet up with Don Hudson** on September 10th, right before my injury turned awful, and, among other things, asked him not to tell anyone about what I’d been thinking for the past couple of months. Now his silence was unnecessary, because I have decided it is feasible enough that I should tell you:
The trail officially ends in Morocco; but I’ve wanted to sail across the equator for more than a few years, so there’s that. I’d finish the IAT by walking the ECT (Eastern Continental Trail) up through Florida, and bring things full circle to end at Flagg Mountain in Alabama, where we began.
I say these things. They’re easy to say when you’re walking cross-mountain in sunshine; and your water is not frozen and you haven’t been walking and meeting new people for more than a year and a half. Ask me again after winter hits, my people. And then again, next year. And then again, the year after that? Oy vey. Good thing we are all very stubborn humans. Mostly me. Quite possibly you. My mother told me once when I was small (and screaming very loudly): “YOU. You are so… so…. stubborn. And you know what? I’m glad you are. Because all the people who ever accomplished anything in life did it because they were stubborn. They just never gave up. So that’s great for you. I’m really glad. That’s great. But stop screaming.”
Probably I didn’t, but that moment stuck in my head. It’s the little things, right?
Anyways, I should probably go see if all my winter gear fits into my pack before tomorrow morning, awwwwwww yisssssssss.
Happy trails, and beautiful autumn to you all.
P.S. Feel free to ignore any and all moneymaking schemes that come out in the next few days, but if you do want to contribute to making sure that Sail does not starve, I made a pretty PayPal button a few weeks ago, for my fundraising plots, and it’s down at the bottom of this page.
You can also continuously find it on the Contact & Support tab, if you’re not reading this via email and are on the blog page. The total cost for the Arctic expedition is probably going to be around $18,000. I’m working to see who I can find to make small(er) but significant contributions in the corporate world, but there’s also a $3,500 deposit to secure a berth that I will attempt to provide as soon as possible. (We’re at $2000 now.)
Take care of yourselves, my people. <3. Be well. So much love.