We'd like to thank everyone – including previous inquirers – for their excellent, sometimes unexpected, questions.
1) How is it, being so far away from me? Of course, apartment, luxuries, showers, food, etc., are one thing. But how is it being away from me for such a long time? Is it an expected, normal sense of missing? Or are there particular thoughts or moments when it's different, and if so, how? What about missing other relatives and/or friends?
Olli: Maybe the question of missing someone shouldn't be measured just by the distance. The length of time is certainly also an aspect.
When we're fine, and you're fine, the distance doesn't play a huge role. Besides, thanks to the Internet we keep each other apprised of our respective activities. The Internet connects! ;-) In any case, you always carry the most important people in your heart – and they in turn accompany you mentally, no matter where you are. Knowing that helps to bridge distance and time. Of course, the anticipation of seeing you again is enormous!
Sabine: I really miss you a lot. Often you don't realize who and what you miss until you're far away. As Olli writes, we're alway in contact via Internet (Whats App, signal, nails). For example, in our group "Familienkurzschluss" (family circuit) in signal. Of course that doesn't replace a hug or being physically close. I'm already looking forward to the hugs when we return.
(Question by Zarah, our daughter in Stuttgart)
2) How do you navigate? Just with your smart phone?
Like most hikers, we use the app "Guthook" to navigate, which determines our position via GPS. The virtual map shows us all the important data: e.g., campsites, water stations, special markers, resupply stations, among others. Besides that, hikers can post comments and, for example (extremely important), the current status of water stations. Disadvantage: the cell phone always has to be charged (we do this via powerbank and solar panel).
3) You don't have a map or compass?
Thanks to the app, a traditional map is superfluous. Maps are heavy and unwieldy. We do carry a compass, just in case. Sometimes you find maps in hiker boxes left by hikers who’ve finished the corresponding section. We did have some maps for part of the way, and had maps sent to us for the upcoming "northern" section. In turn, we left these booklets in hiker boxes when we were done with them.
4) Do you often have difficulties getting the tent pegs into the ground? Do rocks work well as anchors?
All in all, the tent pegs work fine. Sometimes the ground’s too hard, or too soft. Rocks can be useful, along with supplementary securing methods, especially when it's windy, and they can do double duty as a hammer. Of course, they have to be around. We once had a tent site where we couldn't find a single rock. Luckily the ground was neither too hard nor too soft, and it wasn't windy, either. Unfortunately, we’ve lost tent pegs three times in different places. But since we had two extra pegs, it wasn't a problem. We also lost one of the entry pegs, with hook – but found a similar one at another campsite that someone had forgotten.
5) What do you estimate this trip will have cost you, bottom line?
Hard to say. All in all (monthly fixed costs, purchases in advance and on site, overseas health insurance, costs on location), maybe around 15,000 euros per person.
We sublet our flat, thus eliminating our rental costs during this period. The other regular expenses we would have had at home, too. The biggest expenses are what we buy on site – resupplying, occastional motel rooms or lodges, the Greyhound bus to Ashland, flight tickets back to California, equipment (including the new ultralight-weight tent by Z-Packs, ultimately the best sleeping bag by Western Mountain for Sabine, four pairs of Altra-Trailrunner shoes for Olli, with probably a fifth pair due shortly (Sabine is only on her second pair of Lowa Gorgon; for now, we're hiking in our mountain boots, which we just picked up at Grumpy Bear’s in Kennedy Meadows), a Hyperlite Mountain Gear backpack for Sabine to replace her Deuter, which she sent back. And yes, various shipping costs for the stuff we exchanged or eliminated, and film material on hard drives that we posted to Germany and New York.
(Questions 3-5 by Andy from Kalchreuth / Bavaria)
6) Do you think differently when you hike alone?
Olli: Yes, when you hike alone, normal communication stops, a state into which you can escape at any time. You're alone with your thoughts. There's nothing to distract you. You hear only your own footsteps, you walk in your own rhythm. You decide when to pause briefly, when to take a break, when to eat. To move your physical body through the infinite expanse of landscape moves you emotionally, as well. It's a superb feeling, incomparable. But, ultimately, the question of whether to hike alone or in company is a fundamental, philosophical question. Anyone can relate to this: how does it feel to go to the theater alone, for instance, compared to going with someone else? Of course, there are many other people in the cinema, with whom you can strike up a conversation ...
Sabine: I'm not surprised this question comes from Gabi, who has known us for a long time and with whom we keep in close touch via the blog translations and regular communication via wi-fi. – During the initial weeks, I spent a lot of time mulling over situations in my life; these thoughts just popped into my head. Then there was nothing. I didn't know what to think about anymore, nor what I ought to think about. There was just this vast emptiness. And because the scenery seemed pretty much the same for long stretches – it felt like I was in the same stage play for days, or watching the same movie over and over again– this was a huge challenge. I normally only do that for my favorite plays, favorite movies. A hike, however, doesn’t always offer one's favorite scenery. I also didn't listen to music, that is, not till the last leg in Washington, to keep myself motivated during the enormous gradients.
I discovered that the open, generous expanses of California (and now that we're back here, I can confirm this) are more suited for this state of inner "emptiness." Lava slopes such as those we found at the Three Sisters in Oregon, or the mountain summits such as Goat Rocks in Washington, also offer this expansive perspective. Californians claim they're so laid back because of this vastness.
I find the cosy, secret-eerie forest less tolerable when I'm in that state of emptiness. Especially in the evenings, or when the weather turns gloomy, the woods can be a bit disturbing – an atmosphere that always reminds me of Hansel and Gretel’s forest. This fairytale always touched me, that the poverty-stricken parents had to send their children into the forest because they could no longer care for them. One could interpret this on a psychoanalytic level ... But we know the story ends well, the kids trick the witch and make their way home again to their parents, who of course regret their decision and are overjoyed to have their children back. Meanwhile, my "empty" state of mind changes fairly often because I'm thinking about various encounters, or reviewing the hike (grin). Due to the unchanging scenery, by the way, I've begun to take Dutch lessons from Olli. Of course that only works if we hike together (wider grin).
Time and again, however, we hike sections alone. These are becoming longer, so the shifting emotions will occur more often. I've talked with hikers who quit the trail because of that "loneliness"; others conversed with their mobiles. I'm learning to appreciate the advantages more and more, because when your body is under physical pressure, you need to find your own rhythm, adapt to your own metabolism, taking breaks and eating when it's right for your body, in order to reach the common goal. We've talked about whether this might be a good model to adapt when we’re back home again.
(Question by your trusty translator Gabriele Glang, who resides in beautiful Geislingen-Türkheim, located at 650 meters' altitude near the Swabian Alb escarpment)
7) Where do you feel more comfortable, on the trail with its community and nearness to nature (with all its hindrances) or in the city with its amenities (and the hustle and bustle)?
After a couple days in the city, we've had enough. Time to back to the peace and quiet. Seattle was terrific, but unbelievably loud. For Sabine, though, the city does appeal to her. She would have liked to visit the art museum, improv theater, etc. On Mondays, the museums are closed all over the world. But in Seattle, the art museum is closed on Tuesdays. Improv is only Fridays and Saturdays. We arrived on a Sunday, so ... Well, that was ok, too. We were a bit exhausted and enjoyed just strolling around at pleasantly warm temperatures. Took in a wall of art made of chewing gum at Pike Market Place, each adding our own gum (Polar Ice flavored) to the artwork. In Ashland we took in the play "Inbetween Knees" during the Shakespeare Festival. An intelligent and humorous look at the history of America and the white man, who displaces the Native Americans, and which includes an episode in the Third Reich and one in the Vietnam War – the world premiere of a play we highly recommend. Weltpremiere, das Stück kann man nur empfehlen.
Increasingly, however, both us tend to quickly tire of larger cities, annoyed by the sense and nonsense of civilization and anxious to be back on the trail.
(Question by Carmen Lemberg from Ludwigsburg)