Tolkien Quotes: Above All Rewards

“The praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards.”

I don’t have a whole lot to say about this one; I think it speaks for itself. Just remember these words of Faramir to Sam the next time someone you love gives you a compliment.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: A Cheerful Hobbit

Sam said nothing… he knew that words of his were useless. And after all he never had any real hope in the affair from the beginning; but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed hope, as long as despair could be postponed.

Sam is, and always has been, my favorite Lord of the Rings character. My admiration for Aragorn, Gimli, and Boromir has risen the older I’ve gotten, I adore Éowyn and Éomer, Merry and Pippin are fantastic, the elves are beautiful, I will fight a duel for Denethor, and I’ve identified strongly with Frodo over the past couple years— but Sam holds the most special place in my heart. This passage explains one of the reasons why.

Sam has agreed to stay by Frodo’s side, and thus he stays. Hope is not really part of the equation; he focuses on the right thing to do at this moment, regardless of the outcome. He is a hobbit of honest deeds, putting one foot in front of the other with courage. He postpones despair as long as he can, and, when it finally overtakes him in the sixth book, this is how he reacts:

But even as hope died in Sam, or seemed to die, it was turned to a new strength. Sam’s plain hobbit-face grew stern, almost grim, as the will hardened in him, and he felt through all his limbs a thrill, as if he was turning into some creature of stone and steel that neither despair nor weariness nor endless barren miles could subdue.

The trait that I love most about Sam is his undying loyalty. He and Frodo don’t begin the story as friends, but as servant and master— and although that dimension to their relationship never goes away, it deepens into the kind of friendship that everybody needs but is all too rare: unconditional, unwavering love.

Sam is a hobbit of small ambition but great strength, the most wonderful friend anyone could ask for. No matter what, he will always be my favorite.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: Scrambling Among Stones

“I’m tired, and don’t think I can scramble among stones much longer tonight— though I grudge the delay. I wish there was a clear path in front of us: then I’d go on till my legs gave way.”

A couple of the decisions in my life— namely, eschewing college or deciding to become a writer— have been absolutely clear. Although in the case of college I dithered around for a while, desperate to find some hidden reason I was overlooking, I was certain which way to choose. Taking a different path would have been wrong for me.

But of course, those are only two decisions. Most every other choice has been a matter of this or that, not right or wrong. Do I stay at the learning center with the teaching job I love, or quit and go off traveling? Should I save up money for security later, or spend it on my trips out west? Do I want to become a full-time nomad, or settle down for a while? None of these questions has a cut-and-dried answer. It’s freeing to know all options are opening, but sobering to know that either path could lead to disaster. 

Things get even harder when the questions have more important stakes: Should I pursue a relationship with this guy, or not? If I leave on a trip now, will I be abandoning my family when they need me, or will they be fine? Do I love this person by seeking her out, or by leaving her alone? The path is unclear. I find myself scrambling among the stones.

Although, as Frodo does, I may grudge the delay, I am also thankful for the opportunities that these choices provide. I have few regrets. Whether traveling a highway or crawling through the boulders, I still think it’s best to keep moving forward.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: You Knew

Context for this quote: through Pippin’s foolish actions, he placed himself and everybody else in an extremely dangerous situation. Although things turned out all right this time, he could have ruined his entire life. He is terrified by the gravity of the situation, and this is his response.

“I wish I had known all this before,” said Pippin. “I had no notion of what I was doing.”

“Oh yes, you had,” said Gandalf. “You knew you were behaving wrongly and foolishly; and you told yourself so, though you did not listen.”

This is a truth that constantly keeps on circling around and smacking me in the face: the vital importance of small decisions. So, to this quote I add two more quotes. The first is from a man who is not only one of my favorite author, but an amazing artist and philosopher as well— Bill Watterson.

I made a big decision a little while ago.

I don’t remember what it was, which prob’ly goes to show

That many times a simple choice can prove to be essential

Even though it often might appear inconsequential.

I must have been distracted when I left my home because

Left or right I’m sure I went. (I wonder which it was!)

Anyway, I never veered: I walked in that direction

Utterly absorbed, it seems, in quiet introspection.

For no reason I can think of, I’ve wandered far astray

And that is how I got to where I find myself today.

Second, I quote a paragraph I included in a blog about children that I wrote when I was in Wyoming.

“We don’t understand that our actions have consequences. Sure, when we grow up we (hopefully) realize that throwing rocks in the neighbor’s yard isn’t the best idea, and yet we are completely blind to the consequences of telling a white lie, of brushing off an inner prompting, of eating too much food, or of obsessively checking Facebook. In a month or a year, any ‘small’ vice may be the foothold that opens a person up to horrors he couldn’t imagine before. The ripples, both physical and spiritual, extend far beyond what we can comprehend.”

The message that keeps staring me down when I try hardest to ignore it? Sin is sin, great or small. Don’t excuse yourself off as being foolish when you’re really being wrong. And don’t underestimate the power of small things done right.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: Cast Away a Treasure

“And here also is your brooch, Pippin,” said Aragorn. “I have kept it safe, for it is a very precious thing.”

“I know,” said Pippin. “It was a wrench to let it go; but what else could I do?”

“Nothing else,” answered Aragorn. “One who cannot cast away a treasure at need is in fetters. You did rightly.”

Long before this conversation took place, when Pippin and Merry were captured by orcs, Pippin dropped his brooch, a marvelous gift from the Lady Galadriel herself, in the grass to leave a trail for Aragorn to follow. I love that in this exchange, Aragorn acknowledges both the worth of the brooch and the necessity of letting it go.

My family’s recent move has made me think a lot about possessions— they are a lot more important to me than I would like to admit. All I have to do is go through my closet (or, much worse, my book collection) with the intention of rooting out all the excess. “But I love this jacket, and I wear it every month or so!” I say. “I’d like to have my own copy of this book rather than checking it out from the library.” 

I have lived for two months out of a single backpack— few things make you more aware of what is necessary to survive and thrive. Yet when I get home, I tend to cling onto my little comforts, like decorate lights and those little trinkets so-and-so gave me for my eighteenth birthday. I don’t believe it’s wrong to own such things, with one condition: they must be held with open hands, ready to be let go should the need arise. 

Annie Dillard, in her mind-blowing essay “An Expedition to the Pole,”* tells of early groups who attempted to conquer Antarctica, but refused to let go of their possessions: heirlooms, conveniences and nonessentials weighed down their journeys. In the end, these groups either turned back or froze to death. One straggler’s body was discovered in the endless snow, fallen dead in his tracks. In his icebound arms, he clutched a case that the expedition had brought: a set of fine antique silverware. 

Do I own my possessions, or do they own me? This is an important for everyone to ask on a regular basis. Otherwise, we are trapped in chains of our own making.

~Lisa Shafter

*If you have not read “An Expedition to the Pole,” or anything else from Dillard’s Teaching a Stone to Talk, then you have missed out. Go find a copy ASAP.

Tolkien Quotes: The Glittering Caves

“And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light flows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from the dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea.”

I tried not to include too many purely descriptive passages, but I couldn’t resist including this one. Tolkien’s handle on words blows my mind, and I have nothing to add.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: Until All Is Over

“Had I known that the strength of Isengard had grown so great, maybe I should not so rashly have ridden forth to meet it, for all the arts of Gandalf. His counsel seems not now so good as it did under the morning sun.”

“Do not judge the counsel of Gandalf, until all is over, lord,” said Aragorn.

Humans are remarkably shortsighted creatures. We find it easy to focus on the bad that is happening now without any thought that this might not, in fact, be the finale of the situation. Aragorn’s words encourage us to wait patiently for the conclusion of the story— which may be next week, or may continue far past our lifetimes. His sentence is not only advice, but also an encouragement to hope, despite what the present circumstances appear. It’s a good challenge to all of us to step back, to gain perspective, and to live our lives in faith.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: They Are Strong

“A thing is about to happen which has not happened since the Elder Days: the Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong.”

This quote struck me last time I read the book, mostly because I had just gone through an extremely traumatic time in my life. In general my childhood and early adult life had very little conflict, and this had led several of my friends to believe that I was fragile as a china doll. After the tragedy that left me in deep sorrow, I woke up and realized that I although I looked frail, I was made of willow rather than glass. My world had been snapped, but it hadn’t been shattered. I was indeed strong. It surprised me. A lot. And now every time I read this quote, I think of that piece of encouragement that touched me over two years ago.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: All We Can Do

“We have come ill supplied. If we do not find them soon, we shall be of no use to them, except to sit down beside them and show our friendship by starving together.”

“If that is indeed all we can do, then we must do that,” said Aragorn. “Let us go on.”

This passage drives home something that I’ve recently realized is very important to me: the nobility of the lost cause. Gimli makes a practical observation about their situation as they attempt to rescue Merry and Pippin, and Aragorn replies that they are bound by their friendship to do what is right, no matter the consequences. 

If I stop buying things made in China and use a water bottle instead of styrofoam cups and vote in national elections and try to avoid eating the meat of tortured chickens, will I really make a difference in the grand scheme of things? Well, probably not. Yet these things are still worth doing. If everyone gives up, nothing will happen. But if someone does something right, even if he never sees the impact of his actions, then the cause might not be so lost after all.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: Quickbeam

All that day they walked about in the woods with him, singing, and laughing; for Quickbeam often laughed. He laughed if the sun came out from behind a cloud, he laughed if they came upon a stream or spring: then he stooped and splashed his feet and head with water; he laughed sometimes at some sound or whisper in the trees.

Quickbeam, one of the younger members of race of ancient trees, ranks high in my list of favorite minor characters. He possesses a certain unbridled joy that most children know well, but most adults have learned to squelch.

A story comes to mind, when I was wandering through a shopping district during Christmastime. Frost nipped the air, and two conscientious parents were unloading their three little children from a van. As the mother wrestled gloves onto the oldest, the middle child, about three or four, hopped up on a bench and peered in a store window, where a small crèche was displayed. His eyes grew wide, his lips quivered, and then in a frenzy of excitement he yelled, “Mommy, look! It’s baby Jesus! Mommy, it’s baby Jesus, Mommy, look!” His mother was too distracted with the scarves and hats to pay any attention beyond a mumbled, “Uh-huh.” She wasn’t a bad parent— in that moment her eyes just weren’t open to the wonder that the little boy was celebrating.

This passage is a good reminder to slow down, to take a breath, and to delight in the small mysteries of our world. Beauty is only appreciated by those who take the time to look.

~Lisa Shafter

Hiatus

Dear blog readers,

My family unexpectedly found a house to rent today, after a grueling two-month search. Since our lease at our current house has already run out, we're moving today and seeing how fast we can do it. Thus, there will be no blog entries for a couple of days. I'll let you know how it goes.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: Hobbit-Fashion

They turned and walked side by side slowly along the line of the river. … As they walked they compared notes, talking lightly in hobbit-fashion of the things that had happened since their capture. No listener would have guessed from their words that they had suffered cruelly, and been in dire peril; going without hope toward torment and death; or that even now, as they knew well, they had little chance of ever finding friend or safety again.

“You seem to have been doing well, Master Took,” said Merry. “You will get almost a chapter in old Bilbo’s book, if ever I get a chance to report to him.”

This part always makes me laugh in delight when I read it. I think too often people write off other people for being “soft” because they’ve never faced any hardship. Sometimes, when those people are put to the test, they are tougher than anyone ever could imagine. Yet another reason I love hobbits.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: Though the End May Be Dark

“The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others,” said Aragorn. “There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark.”

This is one of my top two favorite Lord of the Rings quotes ever (the other one is coming soon). It is a truth of life that is both heartbreaking and hopeful: even if something ends in disaster, it might still be the right thing to do.

Almost exactly four years ago, I took a chance bigger than any other chance I’ve ever taken: I gave my whole heart to someone outside my family. Some people might call it “falling in love,” but the truth is, I made a conscious decision to travel into the world of a relationship. I knew it might fail, but to deny that new love would be to cloister my heart, to kill a part of myself. So onward I pressed. 

The risk failed. The road ended in darkness. It caused me more pain and sorrow and horror than anything else in my life ever has. Several of my acquaintances and even a few of my friends told me, in so many words, “You should have known better.” Even in the midst of my grief, I knew they were wrong. There can be no chance of good if there is no risk of failure. I have a clear conscience, knowing that I loved as fully as a human can, that I trusted as fully as a human can, and that I didn’t allow cynicism or fear to dissuade me from my undying hope. To do otherwise would have been a lack of faith, would have killed the hobbit-sense that keeps me going on my bad days. The end of my relationship was dark, but I still firmly believe, as I believe of anything worth doing, that it was better to begin than to refuse.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: As He Ever Has Judged

“It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange.… How shall a man judge what to do in such times?”

“As he ever has judged,” said Aragorn. “Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear… It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house.”

This brief exchange between Aragorn and Éomer packs a lot of punch. Éomer’s question echoes the lament of anyone in a state of flux. When I think about the world, I wonder what happened to the little self-contained universe I understood as a child. I live in a culture of doomsday technology, corruptly-distributed resources, confused spiritualism, legal genocide and rampant slavery. I live in a place of new paradigms and a destroyed status quo, when What Has Worked for the past hundred years Does Not Work anymore. I live in a world where my parents’ health can be and has been shattered in a second and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Too often I find myself scrambling to find my feet in a fluctuating life.

Aragorn’s answer once again illustrates Tolkien’s straightforward wisdom: love and evil have always been a part of the present world, and all we can do is set our minds to discovering the way they manifest in our culture and in our lives. If we understand, we can judge what is best. If we can judge, we can act. A discerning man can accept the changes as they happen and continue to move forward, with the faith that anything worth doing requires.

~Lisa Shafter

Katy Trail Hike: The Conclusion

The hike was good for me in several ways. First of all, it showed me that I can stand a lot of heat, and can carry a reasonably weighty pack without injuring myself. I also learned some important things about myself, namely: Fig A I don’t like camping alone, and Fig B I don’t think I’m hardcore enough for true backpacking. 

I like being within range of an ambulance, and camping with comforts like marshmallows and firewood, and seeing other people on the road, and stopping at little towns along the way to fill up with water. These realizations disappointed me in one way, but on the other they made me happy: I’ve discovered my comfort zone, so I can know when to stay in it, and when to step out.

The trip did a lot to curb the wanderlust that I often feel in autumn… for a few days. My mind is full of dark forests and urban mazes yet to explore, and I’m still debating whether to follow their call or stick with my early declaration that I was staying home at least until January. In the meantime, back to the daily routines of life, while my wanderlust broods in the back of my head. Who knows what the next few months will hold?

~Lisa Shafter

Katy Trail Hike: The People I Saw

I spent most of my blog entries describing the nature I saw on my hike. However, the entries left out a very important element of the trail: people. Since it was Labor Day weekend, bicyclists and walkers of all kinds took to the gravel alongside me, despite the sweltering weather. 

Groups of joggers with water bottles strapped to their belts like grenades padded along, chatting. Moms speed-walked together, pushing their children in strollers. A biker clutched a leash in one hand while his dog trotted alongside him. Women often jogged in pairs, but men always jogged solo. Two women, one running, one keeping pace on her bike, passed me by. Both had headphone buds plugged into their ears, shutting out the birdsong and each other.

The cyclists could be roughly divided into three categories: those who were friendly, those who were tired, and those who were too cool for their own good. Sometimes groups of cyclists were split down the middle: two middle-aged twins rode by, one glared at me, and the other smiled as if completely unaware of his brother’s attitude. Another time, I was passed by a huge group of guys in black and white biker uniforms, which I concluded must be The Cyclist League of Good-Looking Guys— there wasn’t an ugly one among them. 

Cyclists and walkers alike often stopped to ask me about my backpack. Most looked slightly disappointed to hear that I was only hiking 40 miles, but gave me more grace when they heard it was my first expedition of this kind. A cyclist named Dennis, riding to his dad’s house with his seven-year old son, slowed down beside me for a while. He told me of his hiking adventures in Alaska and Colorado and loaded my brain with dozens of helpful hints about backpacking. A cyclist couple, resting on trail-side benches, told me of their group biking tours they had taken in 40-some different states. A winded young woman explained this was her first time jogging— we had both picked the Katy Trail as a warm-up track.

No matter where I go, even when the point is to spend some time in nature, I always end up talking to people. Despite my somewhat fatalistic nature, and almost in a guilty way, I love them. I really do love people.

~Lisa Shafter

Katy Trail Hike: A Poem

Morning on the Katy Trail

by Lisa Shafter

Early morning forest, hung

with tattered streaks of sunlight, strung

with spiders’ silver labyrinths, sung

with crickets and the sigh of trees.

Ragged cliffs of limestone, splitting

by a maple’s patience, sitting

perched above the river, knitting

stories of forgotten seas.

Scattered leaves like parchment, sown

by husky summer breezes, known

by centipedes and lizards, grown

by tangled treetops’ leafy manes.

Tangled nighttime shadows, fading

in the rebirthed sunlight, trading

auburn-gold for emerald, wading

nearer to sweet autumn’s reign.

Early morning forest, shine,

This waking summer day is mine.

Katy Trail Hike: Day Three

September 4th, 2011

I woke up around 8:00 on the third day, after sleeping over twelve and a half hours, and blinked at the gray light shining through the window slats. A peek through the shade showed me that a front had moved in: leftover raindrops dripped from the trees, and gray clouds covered the sky. I stepped outside the door, and cool air washed over me— the temperature had dropped more than 25 degrees!

Now that I didn’t have to worry about the huge stretches of trail that would normally be in full sun, I took my time getting out the door, and was soon strolling along the trail with a familiar set of surroundings: bluffs to my left, fields to my right. The overcast light intensified all the colors. Distant trees appeared as dark olive, the soybean fields a metallic green, the cornfields orange. 

After a couple miles, the bluffs fell away when I crossed a road, and the trail delved into vine-trestled forest. Occasionally the woods on my left cleared to reveal a couple houses, and occasionally the woods opened to my right to show massive amounts of vines turning dead trees to fantastic topiaries.

A few miles more, and I found myself in territory as familiar to me as my own reflection. For most of my childhood, I lived within five blocks of the Katy Trail. When I got old enough, Mom took me on a walk down to it and back every evening. At first we’d walk to the entrance by the railroad ties and turn back. As I got older and my legs lengthened, we walked further. We turned at the border of the woods, then the old bridge, then the lone tree, then the bend in the trail. I passed all of these in turn, turning over details in my mind as I saw them. There, the white black-roofed house with the “Condemned” signs that had been there since I was a kid. There, the shed with a wooden goose picture nailed to the side. There, the row of cottonwoods, gray in this light, but familiar to me in every light. The best is mid-afternoon on a summer day, when the sky is creamy blue— then the leaves glitter in the sunshine, dancing on their long stems in every breath of wind with a clattering rustle.

I thought of the conversations that Mom and I had on this stretch of trail. At first I talked about names that rhymed, and made her listen to extensive genealogies of the story characters I had made up. I see myself growing up through those conversations on every topic imaginable: Star Trek theology, complaints about my siblings, finances, my crushes, ACT scores, my desire to write a novel and then the novel that I wrote, God, life, love. It was here that my sister wrecked her bike and had to be rushed to the hospital for plastic surgery, here that I walked in baby steps with Mom as she recovered from a grand mal seizure, here that I decided I wasn’t going to college. It was here that Mom and I walked under a gray sky and talked about the devastating news that we had to move from the house that had been home to us for sixteen years.

It all seemed far off now, like looking at another person’s life. I passed through this section of the trail in a fog of memory, and didn’t really wake up until I reached a place that I will always consider to be my home: Frontier Park. The Missouri River glimmered gray as I sat down on a bench, and I actually shivered as the breeze blew over me. I felt reluctant for my hike to come to an end, because that meant I’d have to return to reality. It didn’t bother me too much, though. I’d make pizza tonight to celebrate my return.

Mom walked the last mile or so with me, just like we’ve been doing since I was barely as tall as her waist, right in step with each other. It was a perfect way to end my hike.

~Lisa Shafter

Katy Trail Hike: Day Two

September 3rd, 2011

Originally, it was my plan on the second day to wake up at 5 and hit the trail by 5:30 in order to beat the heat of the day. I began in the right place by drifting to the surface around 4:30am, but then I remembered a very important thing about myself: I have an overly-active imagination, heightened by darkness and camping out alone in the forest. Every scary part of every book and movie I’ve ever seen came to mind, and I huddled beneath my sarong and decided that there was no way I was leaving the tent until the sunlight chased away every dark rider, axe murderer, velociraptor, and monster from the Id that was lurking just outside the tent.

At last I braved the outdoors, just as the eastern sky was turning pink. I ended up getting down to the Katy Trail around 6:30, which was still a decently early start. The air felt dense and humid, promising another sweltering day to come.

Soon I fell into parallel step with the Missouri River, and the sun hung low and golden over the waters, casting a vibrant column of light on the surface. Molten gold faded to palest silver and everything in between— my river, in all its beauty.

That day I traveled through deep shade in river-bottom territory: lines of trees over the trail, bordered with wide rows of corn or fields at rest, blurry at the edges with a hot morning haze; cloudless sky, raggedy limestone bluffs to my left, grown up with maple and walnut and oak and elderberry. I saw remnants of the flood of ’08: empty strips of wild fields, shot through with muddy rills, marked with massive cottonwood skeletons.

It was also a day of birds: massive crows chasing each other through the treetops, turkey vultures sailing overhead, robins darting through the underbrush. I saw cardinals, downy woodpeckers, indigo buntings, warblers, and even a couple of rufous-sided towhees. Squirrels, large and russet-tailed, sometimes bounced across the trail, carrying walnuts and staring at me with hematite eyes. The woods ranged from scattered river-bottom trees to open-air forest to dense vegetation swaddled in vines. 

I paced myself, I walked in the shade, and I remained happily heat-stroke-free. Around 5 that night, after nearly 18 miles of walking, I arrived at my brother’s house, where he let me take a shower and curl up in an air-conditioned guest bedroom. I was asleep before 7:30.

An excerpt from my journal that I wrote just before going to bed:

“And here I am, in a cool house, feeling content, if not hardcore. The side muscle on my right shin feels a bit strained, but otherwise I’m in pretty good shape. One day I’ll look back and marvel that there was a time in my life when I could hike 18 miles in a day and not be that tired!”

~Lisa Shafter

Katy Trail Hike: Day One

September 2nd, 2011

The trip began with an hour-long car ride to the trailhead at Dutzow, Missouri. My excellent friend Amy drove me over and around the hills of the countryside, and we both spent most of the time belting out Disney songs. She dropped me at the trailhead with a “Good luck” around nine in the morning. I strapped on my backpack (which, loaded down with nearly a gallon and a half of water, still only weighed about 33 pounds), waved goodbye, and was ready for a day of hiking.

I climbed onto the trail, a road of fine white gravel that has been familiar to me since my family discovered the Katy when I was two. And I was off, my face toward the rising sun, though I was soon rewarded with shade from the bluffs that rose up on my left. It was a perfect morning: dewy, shady, with a mild breeze on my face. Limestone cliffs hugged the trail on my left, and cornfields stretched out on my right, brown and gold as only grain can be. Although the weather felt nice, the sky looked hot: it had burned away not only any trace of clouds, but its own color. It was pale gray near the horizon, changing to the whitest shade of blue up above.

The first part of the walk was delightful: butterflies danced around me, sometimes landing on my backpack or shirt before flitting off again. Blue morning glories and delicate black-eyed susans dotted the trail, and cottonwood leaves shimmered in the sunlight.

Then I came to a stretch of trail that ran down the middle of a vast cornfield, without a tree in sight. It wasn’t yet the heat of the day, so I figured I should try to get through it before noon hit. Off I went, pulling my crusher hat further down over my eyes.

Soon, my consciousness split into two distinct spaces: on one hand, I marveled at the solid Midwest beauty of the cornfields, rolling over the undulating plains, lined in the distance with blue bluffs. One the other hand, I became acutely aware that it was hot. Very hot. Scald-your-brain-through-your-hat hot. I realized also that I was not going to get through the day without heat stroke, I just had to figure out how to make it as minimal as possible. I figured that guzzling nearly half a gallon of water in two hours would be enough. I was wrong.

At last, the trees far off to my left delved close to the trail again, and I stumbled my way into spotty shade. I reached the trailhead at Augusta around 11 and sat down, determined to wait through the heat of the day. Unfortunately for me, I started feeling better— after all, I had plenty of water, and Augusta’s ghost-town-like buildings seemed unfriendly. I decided to set off again, reasoning that I would be in the shade, so I’d be all right.

Within half an hour I found myself in a catch-22: I felt reasonably cool when I was walking because of the slight breeze I created, and when I stopped for a break, I felt heat radiating from my skin like a fever. The continued walking raised my body temperature more and more, and stopping became less and less helpful. Soon I was walking furiously to get enough breeze to keep myself from passing out. Robotically I followed the signs to my destination for the night: Klondike Park. My feet kept moving, knowing that if I stopped I might not be able to start again. Then, like a beacon of light, I saw a concrete building in the distance that looked like it might be a bathroom. I sped toward it, pressing down the heat that I felt rising in me. I don’t remember much— just grabbing the handle, tearing the door open, stumbling into the cool air of the restroom building. I had enough strength to take off my pack and lean it against the wall, and then I curled up in a fetal position on the painted concrete floor. 

I listened to my breathing for a while. I felt the heat battling through my body, trying to escape. I thought I was going to throw up. I chugged some water. I dumped some water over my head. I panted and fanned myself with a paper and realized that I should have read up on how to deal with heat stroke before I left on this trip. I simply couldn’t get myself to cool down, and it scared me.

Around the hour mark, I began to feel an extraordinary thing: my body temperature was cooling down. I stopped feeling nauseated, clarity began to return to my thoughts, and my head decided that it wasn’t going to explode after all. Within two hours, I felt completely recovered, and I braved the outdoors to find my campsite.

The site was a nook in the woods, bordered by a sandstone cliff and several slender trees. I set up the tent with no problem, then wondered what to do next. The answer was obvious: hike some more! With a lightened pack I explored the park a bit, wandering around the lake, viewing the white sandstone cliffs, and winding through a forest trail. 

I ended up back at my campsite around four. I journalled for a while: “And now here I sit, feeling a hint of evening coolness in the air, listening to birds and the crack of branches and a chorus of distant cicadas. There are fallen leaves all around and the air is fairly dry, but the heat is still intense. This is summer’s last gasp before autumn takes the throne.”

Around five, I crawled into my sauna-like tent. As I felt heat-stroke-induced sleep heavy on my eyelids, I thought that I was really stupid to have gotten heat stroke. I wished someone could have come with me. Then I thought, that’s crazy, I’d feel really guilty for putting anyone else through this. I wondered if I’d feel up to hiking the 18 miles the next day— it wasn’t supposed to be any cooler. With that uncertainty in my mind, I slipped into a shallow sleep. 

Later, I learned that the highest temperature that day (not even including heat index) was 108ºF. This was encouraging for several reasons, not least of which was this: if I can hike in that, I can hike in anything.

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: The Rising of the Sun

“Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. Rede oft is found at the rising of the Sun.” 

All throughout Lord of the Rings, the Sun is a symbol of renewed hope. The night is a time of fear, uncertainty, and danger, but the reappearance of the sun brings fresh life to any situation. This idea is rooted deeply in the human heart, echoed in the Psalms: “Weeping may remain for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Even in the midst of great danger, every man must take a moment to rest and await the new day, or he can’t go on. G.K. Chesterton once noted that no one who allowed himself to sleep could truly be a cynic— sleep requires a complete abandonment of self, and a faith that we will wake again to a new morning. 

Whenever I feel I’m at a crossroads, or that things look hopeless, I try to remember Aragorn’s words. With a measure of faith that everyone possesses, I go to sleep. Who knows what the rising sun will bring.

~Lisa Shafter

An Interlude for Hiking

A few weeks ago, I got it into my head that I wanted to hike a portion of the Katy Trail, a biking path that runs from one side of Missouri to the other. Over the course of time, my plans have fluctuated back and forth before settling on a simple plan: hike from Dutzow to St. Charles in three days. 

This is entirely doable— about 10 miles the first day, 18 the second, and 9 the third— but I ran into several roadblocks. First, there is no place to camp between Augusta and St. Charles, which is 27 miles. Second, I didn’t have any backpacking gear or shoes that didn’t give me blisters, and no money to buy them. Third, I’ve had a slew of little health problems, such as a disjointed hip, shin splints, and (today) a mild flu, a really sore neck, and the knowledge that there’s an extreme heat advisory out until Saturday evening. One by one, I found a way around these obstacles. My brother and his wife just happen to be moving in beside the Katy Trail, near the halfway point between Augusta and St. Charles. I borrowed my parents’ backpack and tent from their backpacking trip on the Pacific Crest Trail nearly thirty years ago, and bought a pair of my sister’s shoes for a reduced rate. And as for health and the weather? Well, I’m just going to go and hope everything turns out okay. After all, that’s the way I always travel!

I have a blog that will post automatically tomorrow, but otherwise you won’t hear from me until Monday. Until then, blog readers!

~Lisa Shafter

Tolkien Quotes: The White Mountains

Before them in the West the world lay still, formless and grey; but even as they looked, the shadows of night melted, the colours of the waking earth returned: green flowed over the wide meads of Rohan; the white mists shimmered in the water-vales; and far off to the left, thirty leagues or more, blue and purple stood the White Mountains, rising into peaks of jet, tipped with glimmering snows, flushed with the rose of morning.

Last time I read Lord of the Rings, I had to set down the book after this passage until the tears cleared away. Tolkien is a master of words, describing with a simple beauty that is both invisible and outstanding. As cliché as it is to say, if I ever become half the writer he is, I’ll be content. 

I couldn’t think of a good photo to accompany this passage— it stands on its own, a vivid masterpiece that could only be exceeded by seeing the White Mountains themselves. The best writing stirs in me the longing for places I’ve never seen, a call to adventure, a passionate aching for a different place. I call it wanderlust. C.S. Lewis might call it Joy.

~Lisa Shafter