ScottP
02-02-2008, 13:51
I was asked to write an article about myself. Feedback Please?
Since graduating Magna Cum Laude from Appleton, Wisconsin's Lawrence University in March, 2006, Scott Polewach has hiked nearly 6,000 miles, successfully completing thru-hikes of both the 2,175 Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine and the 2,670 mile Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada. Here's what Scott has to say about hiking:
Hiking is really amazing--it really shows you what's valuable in life. Since I have to carry everything I need, I end up needing a lot less. Walking all day, once you get used to it, brings about an amazing feeling of harmony. It's great to not only feel like a well-oiled machine, but to spend so much time in the wilderness that it becomes home. Spending every night looking up at the stars and the Milky Way, a dozens, if not a hundred miles from the nearest light pollution. Crossing the desert, amazed at how life not only survives, but flourishes under such harsh conditions, napping underneath the shade of a Joshua tree as the June sun passes its zenith. Rounding a blind bend, too windy to hear or smell, to see a bear coming the other way around the same bend, and both turning in terror, then laughing about it. Spending every day on a mountain, looking at dozens of others--pointing out which one I'll be on next. Looking up at a wall of mountains, at that snowy little "v" that's my pass--climbing up the mountain, and watching a whole world open up to me once I reach the pass itself--from a desert to a water wonderland in an instant. Water in every imaginable form--snow, lakes, hundred-foot waterfalls, a green valley surrounded by gray granite and white snow so pristine it sparkles in the sunlight. Drinking straight from perfect little mountain springs, looking up to see the still-present snowpack that feeds it. Looking at a log that spans a canyon over a waterfall--climbing out and diving, just letting go. Crossing a road--getting into town. Milkshakes!
The Pacific Crest Trail begins at the US-Mexico border, and traverses 700 miles of deserts, including the Anza-Borego and the Mojave before climbing to the High Sierra. The PCT reaches it's overall zenith at Forester Pass, 13,150 feet. Scott also took the time to climb Mount Whitney. At 14,505 Mt. Whitney is the highest mountain in the Lower 48 states. The trail then crosses approximately 400 miles of High Sierra, before dropping to the lower Sierra Nevadas to the north, where mixed pines and high-desert reign. The Trail crosses Donner pass, the stranding location of the infamous Donner party. The trail then curves west into the wetter, coniferous Trinity Alps--a land of green forests and craggy gray peaks. As it enters Oregon, the PCT traverses the volcanic Cascades passing through land marks such as Crater Lake National Park and Washington's famous Goat Rocks Wilderness. The trail reaches it's northern terminus at Manning Park, British Columbia, only a few miles north of the US-Canada border. The Appalachian Trail runs from Georgia to Maine, crossing through southern Appalachian landmarks such as the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, the Grayson Highlands, with its feral ponies, Shenandoah National Park, and the Alpine Tundra of New Hampshire's White Mountains.
Walking across glaciers, looking down onto beautiful tarns, alpine lakes--I have my choice of a dozen picture-perfect lakes to call home and my drinking fountain for the evening, to share with the marmots. Picking wild berries as I walk until my hands are purple from eating so many. Laying in a field of wild strawberries, watching the clouds blow by, eating strawberries. Sleeping in a saddle between two mountains, on alpine tundra looking out over hundreds of miles of green cascading mountains. A full moon, no clouds, sharing the view with a family of elk, horse-sized deer, that have no fear of me and use the moonlight to play, stamping around just yards from me as I drift in and out of sleep. Being stalked by a mountain lion in the middle of a moonless night, with no light source other than the stars--his growl. Walking across a whole mountain, clear-cut by loggers, feeling ashamed, heart-broken for being human, for having caused that destruction. Wondering why people need so many things, knowing that they don't. Knowing that anyone who'd seen what I'd seen would feel the same, wanting to take our entire congress out with me for just one month, and seeing how that would change things.
Scott carries very little when he hikes. In a school-sized backpack he has a small tarp that doubles as a poncho, a down-filled blanket, a third of a foam sleeping pad, a sun hat, a warm hat, and a small pot to cook on, over fires. Additionally, he carries several small items, such as Gatorade bottles to hold water, a toothbrush, a bic lighter, and tent stakes. He, of course, also carries food--dehydrated vegetables, quinoa, dehydrated beans, dehydrated fruit, nuts, instant oatmeal, chex mix, and the occasional snickers bar. Scott sometimes carries a mandolin, but he says that he is still terrible at it. In a typical day Scott will walk 35-42 miles. Every 3-7 days Scott crosses a road and walks or hitchhikes to the nearest Post office, where a new package of food is waiting for him.
In Oregon and Washington there are these animals called Pikas--they live up in alpine areas (above treeline), and warn each other about approaching danger, such as a hiker such as myself. They were a frequent companion, and I spent miles and miles shouting, 'piiiik!' back at them. When I got home and was walking, it was hard to stop myself from yelling 'piiiik!' a couple of times every minute. I wonder what people would have thought of me...crazy? They're the crazy ones, killing time in the tangle of concrete and broken glass of the city, breathing in exhaust--senses ruined. Can they smell the perfume of another person, another person cooking, from hundreds of yards away, smell the rain coming? Been able to see by just the dim light of the moon? Have they ever realized how sharp human senses, human experience, can really be, if they are just given somewhere, something worthwhile to take in? Doubt it--I'll stay crazy, thank you very much.
Hiking teaches a lot of very powerful lessons, lessons that last far beyond the hike itself. You're confronted with every adversity you can imagine, and for long periods of time. Trying to steer your mind away from being freezing cold might work if you're only cold for hours, but for days? The only solution is to let yourself be cold--to stop complaining in your own head. Being cold is bad? Only if you say so. After so long, it's not bad anymore--it just is. I'm cold? So what. Icicles bent sideways from the wind--wind hurling them into my face as I slip and slide through the snow up the mountain--what a perfect experience--I wouldn't be anywhere else at that moment of I could.
While you learn what you do not need from hiking, you also learn what you do need.
The thief left it behind:
the moon
at my window.
The thief may have robbed the narrator of the above poem of everything, but he could not rob the narrator of the simple things he needs to be happy. The truth is that today, thieves can steal the moon from our window--pollution, mountaintop removal for coal, habitat destruction, and global climate change are all very real. These are not only aesthetic problems, but also pose problems to the continued success of our economy, agriculture, and our health itself. As any economist will tell you, unaccounted for externalities are inefficient.
Scott hopes to complete a successful thru-hike of the 3,000 mile, uncompleted Continental Divide Trail this coming spring and summer. He then hopes to pursue a PhD in Ecology. Scott continues to be interested in leading others into the wilderness, in order to pass on to others what the mountains have to offer. He believes that anyone who has spent more than a week or two in he wilderness can't help but be an environmentalist.
Since graduating Magna Cum Laude from Appleton, Wisconsin's Lawrence University in March, 2006, Scott Polewach has hiked nearly 6,000 miles, successfully completing thru-hikes of both the 2,175 Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine and the 2,670 mile Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada. Here's what Scott has to say about hiking:
Hiking is really amazing--it really shows you what's valuable in life. Since I have to carry everything I need, I end up needing a lot less. Walking all day, once you get used to it, brings about an amazing feeling of harmony. It's great to not only feel like a well-oiled machine, but to spend so much time in the wilderness that it becomes home. Spending every night looking up at the stars and the Milky Way, a dozens, if not a hundred miles from the nearest light pollution. Crossing the desert, amazed at how life not only survives, but flourishes under such harsh conditions, napping underneath the shade of a Joshua tree as the June sun passes its zenith. Rounding a blind bend, too windy to hear or smell, to see a bear coming the other way around the same bend, and both turning in terror, then laughing about it. Spending every day on a mountain, looking at dozens of others--pointing out which one I'll be on next. Looking up at a wall of mountains, at that snowy little "v" that's my pass--climbing up the mountain, and watching a whole world open up to me once I reach the pass itself--from a desert to a water wonderland in an instant. Water in every imaginable form--snow, lakes, hundred-foot waterfalls, a green valley surrounded by gray granite and white snow so pristine it sparkles in the sunlight. Drinking straight from perfect little mountain springs, looking up to see the still-present snowpack that feeds it. Looking at a log that spans a canyon over a waterfall--climbing out and diving, just letting go. Crossing a road--getting into town. Milkshakes!
The Pacific Crest Trail begins at the US-Mexico border, and traverses 700 miles of deserts, including the Anza-Borego and the Mojave before climbing to the High Sierra. The PCT reaches it's overall zenith at Forester Pass, 13,150 feet. Scott also took the time to climb Mount Whitney. At 14,505 Mt. Whitney is the highest mountain in the Lower 48 states. The trail then crosses approximately 400 miles of High Sierra, before dropping to the lower Sierra Nevadas to the north, where mixed pines and high-desert reign. The Trail crosses Donner pass, the stranding location of the infamous Donner party. The trail then curves west into the wetter, coniferous Trinity Alps--a land of green forests and craggy gray peaks. As it enters Oregon, the PCT traverses the volcanic Cascades passing through land marks such as Crater Lake National Park and Washington's famous Goat Rocks Wilderness. The trail reaches it's northern terminus at Manning Park, British Columbia, only a few miles north of the US-Canada border. The Appalachian Trail runs from Georgia to Maine, crossing through southern Appalachian landmarks such as the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, the Grayson Highlands, with its feral ponies, Shenandoah National Park, and the Alpine Tundra of New Hampshire's White Mountains.
Walking across glaciers, looking down onto beautiful tarns, alpine lakes--I have my choice of a dozen picture-perfect lakes to call home and my drinking fountain for the evening, to share with the marmots. Picking wild berries as I walk until my hands are purple from eating so many. Laying in a field of wild strawberries, watching the clouds blow by, eating strawberries. Sleeping in a saddle between two mountains, on alpine tundra looking out over hundreds of miles of green cascading mountains. A full moon, no clouds, sharing the view with a family of elk, horse-sized deer, that have no fear of me and use the moonlight to play, stamping around just yards from me as I drift in and out of sleep. Being stalked by a mountain lion in the middle of a moonless night, with no light source other than the stars--his growl. Walking across a whole mountain, clear-cut by loggers, feeling ashamed, heart-broken for being human, for having caused that destruction. Wondering why people need so many things, knowing that they don't. Knowing that anyone who'd seen what I'd seen would feel the same, wanting to take our entire congress out with me for just one month, and seeing how that would change things.
Scott carries very little when he hikes. In a school-sized backpack he has a small tarp that doubles as a poncho, a down-filled blanket, a third of a foam sleeping pad, a sun hat, a warm hat, and a small pot to cook on, over fires. Additionally, he carries several small items, such as Gatorade bottles to hold water, a toothbrush, a bic lighter, and tent stakes. He, of course, also carries food--dehydrated vegetables, quinoa, dehydrated beans, dehydrated fruit, nuts, instant oatmeal, chex mix, and the occasional snickers bar. Scott sometimes carries a mandolin, but he says that he is still terrible at it. In a typical day Scott will walk 35-42 miles. Every 3-7 days Scott crosses a road and walks or hitchhikes to the nearest Post office, where a new package of food is waiting for him.
In Oregon and Washington there are these animals called Pikas--they live up in alpine areas (above treeline), and warn each other about approaching danger, such as a hiker such as myself. They were a frequent companion, and I spent miles and miles shouting, 'piiiik!' back at them. When I got home and was walking, it was hard to stop myself from yelling 'piiiik!' a couple of times every minute. I wonder what people would have thought of me...crazy? They're the crazy ones, killing time in the tangle of concrete and broken glass of the city, breathing in exhaust--senses ruined. Can they smell the perfume of another person, another person cooking, from hundreds of yards away, smell the rain coming? Been able to see by just the dim light of the moon? Have they ever realized how sharp human senses, human experience, can really be, if they are just given somewhere, something worthwhile to take in? Doubt it--I'll stay crazy, thank you very much.
Hiking teaches a lot of very powerful lessons, lessons that last far beyond the hike itself. You're confronted with every adversity you can imagine, and for long periods of time. Trying to steer your mind away from being freezing cold might work if you're only cold for hours, but for days? The only solution is to let yourself be cold--to stop complaining in your own head. Being cold is bad? Only if you say so. After so long, it's not bad anymore--it just is. I'm cold? So what. Icicles bent sideways from the wind--wind hurling them into my face as I slip and slide through the snow up the mountain--what a perfect experience--I wouldn't be anywhere else at that moment of I could.
While you learn what you do not need from hiking, you also learn what you do need.
The thief left it behind:
the moon
at my window.
The thief may have robbed the narrator of the above poem of everything, but he could not rob the narrator of the simple things he needs to be happy. The truth is that today, thieves can steal the moon from our window--pollution, mountaintop removal for coal, habitat destruction, and global climate change are all very real. These are not only aesthetic problems, but also pose problems to the continued success of our economy, agriculture, and our health itself. As any economist will tell you, unaccounted for externalities are inefficient.
Scott hopes to complete a successful thru-hike of the 3,000 mile, uncompleted Continental Divide Trail this coming spring and summer. He then hopes to pursue a PhD in Ecology. Scott continues to be interested in leading others into the wilderness, in order to pass on to others what the mountains have to offer. He believes that anyone who has spent more than a week or two in he wilderness can't help but be an environmentalist.