The Blaze And The Stumble

Musings, 1990

(Copied from scrap notes found in a file)

The Blaze And The Stumble
July 1967

When walking the Appalachian Trail, one can go off course when there is failure to locate the next blaze: the white bar, sometimes arrow, painted on tree or boulder. But one can be a bruised and irritated hiker if one is guided only by the painted blaze of distant markings.

The trail is strewn frequently with talus and rocks – unsteadily balanced – accumulated or poised by the combined tensions of gravity, glacial debris, and ancient erosion. Many times the footings are sharp-side up or form an efficient trap for ankle or calf.

One must watch each step so that the foot will squarely counteract the lop-sided shift of eccentrically formed shale or schist. On rare occasions, I’m told, a poisonous snake may be sunning on the rocky slope, ready to respond aggressively to invasion of the territory he has pre-empted.

Watch your step lest you fall; but follow each successive blaze coming into view lest you become lost. On the trail one dwells very little on that abstract social achievement called “progress”. Rather, one thinks of the immediate sense experiences, the shortening distance to the shelter, a briefer wait for the fire, the food and that luxurious experience of rest after sweaty labor. But if you want to consider the experience on the trail a parable of progress. I have no objection.

Follow the blaze, but watch your step.