Day 5- The Departure

In my journal this day's entry came before the previous.  I couldn't explain, nor can I now, the significance of this ordering except I knew, at the time, that it made sense.  In order to keep these entries chronological I've reversed the order in which I wrote them but, for the sake of clarity and honesty, this is a little disclaimer explaining the change.

I just spent an hour at the Visitors Center with a ranger named Josh, a tall thing fellow who looks to be a year or two younger then me, and despite having my route now planned out and my sites reserved I'm more aprehensive than before.

I worry about the bears, the wolves, and the other prefetors.  I worry about injury and starvation.  I worry about heat stroke and disease.  I worry in general.  For a moment I found it reassuring that I was, at least, aware of the risks and challenges I faced, but then my apprehension returned with the realization that I had no idea what to do if any of those situations were to occur.

As I walked back to my campground, now entirely mine as the result of my friends departure, I feel excited and anxious- as if everyone is staring at me, knowing I'm unprepared and utterly alone.

Walking the path- alone but with my head held high.

I turn the corner of the winding pathway, my tent still not in sight, and it dawns on me that this walk is a metaphor for my trip- I'm following my own path, with all the worry that accompanies it, and I cannot see where it goes or how it ends.

I can only hope it ends well.
Ben