I’m a huge fan of Stephen King and am on my second read of the Dark Tower series. In Book 5 (Wolves of the Calla), the group visits a place called The Cave of Voices and it is the center for many important events.
The cave got this name because every person that enters it hears voices reminding them of their darkest moments and tearing at their deepest wounds. The voices in their heads urge them to turn around, give up hope and abandon their quest.
I’ve written a lot about preparing physically for our hike. I’ve not written much about preparing myself emotionally and mentally for this.
I don’t know about everyone else’s inner experience when hiking a long, hard trail but mine sometimes feels like the Cave of Voices.
When I did my first big hike this time last year after being a sedentary office creature for so many years, it was a huge shock to my system. I hiked a mile and a half downhill from the top of Mt Mitchell to the campsite, was passed by literally (without exaggeration) every. single. person. from 8 year olds to senior citizens.
When we got to our camp site, I immediately passed out for 2 hours. The 1.5 mile hike back up the next day felt like it took forever and I popped Advil like candy.
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On another hike I did with Michael and George in Hot Springs last summer, I had barely made it one mile before I started experiencing what was the beginning of heat exhaustion. I started feeling faint and my vision was blurring as my heart pounded in my ears. I stopped and sat there to wait for them to finish the rest of the hike to get me on the return.
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In the fall of last year, we made plans to do a long backpacking trip (for the JMT at the time). When Michael was casually discussing this with an acquaintance who was an experienced hiker and backpacker and another woman, she threw a 100 person wedding event canopy level of shade at me – a person she had never met – about my preparedness and ability to manage this trip.
In addition, there isn’t enough space on this post for the pervasive gatekeeping of outdoors experiences from strangers on reddit, Facebook and the cesspool that is the Internet.
It seemed like every other place I went to exchange information or ask questions solicited unwanted and unhelpful commentary about why I should just give up because (check any or all that apply) :
- I am too fat
- I am too unfit
- I am too inexperienced
- I am too old
- The sky is blue
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Experiences like not being able find clothes and backpacks that fit me at brick-and-mortar stores add to the emotional struggle of going out there and taking up the space outdoors that I have a right to. Once, a (probably well-intended) REI employee passed me browsing a clothing rack and stopped to say “I can order bigger sizes for you”. He was attempting to provide helpful service but I acutely felt the sting of the presumption that I was too big for the items on the rack.
I’d love to say I remain unbothered by the physical and emotional setbacks.
But when I am struggling up the particularly hard climb or find myself on my ass from slipping, I do find myself sometimes in my Cave of Voices.
I hear everything from the fearful voices of family with (well-intended) concern about my adventures to naysaying about my weight, my fitness, my inexperience and everything in between.
And I have no doubt that on our upcoming trip, I will find myself hearing the voices in my head telling me I can’t be really doing this (haha see what I did there). I don’t know if the voices ever really go away. I think they are always there in the recesses of my mind.
“The voices are coming from your own head. The cave finds them and amplifies them somehow. Sends them on. It’s a little upsetting I know, but it’s meaningless.” (Roland)
“Why’d you let em kill me, bro?” Henry sobbed. “I kept thinking you’d come, but you never did!”
“Meaningless,” Eddie said. “Ok got it. What do we do now?”
Well Eddie Dean, I think we just keep going despite the voices.