Back in those post-Woodstock Nation days, we shared.
A bottle of cheap Boone’s Farm wine, pass it around. A quart-sized Schaefer beer, don’t guzzle it all! Let others take a sip. Of course we smoked pot. “Don’t Bogart that joint, my friend, pass it over to me.”
When the infamous marijuana munchies would rear its funny bone side, someone would saunter off to the local bakery, purchase a chocolate layer cake for all to cherish. We attacked the brown blob of chocolate goo with our bare hands.
I’m sure we passed around our share of colds, stomach bugs and who knows what else. After all it was the time of “If you can’t be with the one you love, love ❤️ the one you’re with.”
Ahh I miss those feral days.
Now I’m older and hopefully a bit wiser. (With a lot more wrinkles and less hair) I often ponder what happened to the notion of a “Woodstock Nation”? Was it another victim of greed, intolerance, selfishness and amnesia to the idea of generosity? Human traits which in my minds eye, are pretty abhorrent.
Sometimes I lament, “where have all the mensches and mensch-ettes gone!”
So I protest in my own little way. I continue to share. To perform random acts of kindness just because. That’s why I’m a four year veteran Trail Angel. My rounds take me to the Colorado Trail and Continental Divide Trail all within a days drive and campout from Durango.
My gigs starts with a loaf of wheat bread, Jiffy creamy peanut butter and a Safeway Select jar of boysenberry jam. I slather the ingredients onto the brown bread and repackage the completed sandwiches into the plastic bread bag. Then away I wander on the CT/CDT scanning the horizon for hungry hikers.
The demographics of most through hikers are young, white, college educated and possessing a liberal/conservationist minded attitude. This past year, I spotted two anomalies. White guys hefting 9 mm sidearms. NO SANDWICHES FOR THEM!!!
I make contact with a ex-New Yorker direct approach. “Hello! Would you like a sandwich?” I can always tell the engineers/scientists crowd. Before they answer, they must process what I said. “What kind of sandwich? They’ll ask. I internally laugh at all this. It’s not like a major decision but for these folks, it is. They would make horrendous emergency service workers.
Once we establish if the hiker desires a sandwich, the drill begins. Off comes my backpack, out comes the sandwiches all the while making small talk. “Where are you from? What’s your trail name? Has it been fun? What do you do in the “real world?”
Lastly I’ll ask “Have you met many Trail Angels along the way?”
Here’s the answers from the summer of 24 season:
“No, you’re the first.”
“There was one woman with chips and salsa and water.”
“One guy was willing to collect our garbage at a trailhead.”
That one got me. “Picked up your garbage? No water? No food? Just garbage collection? What was his trail name? Waste Management?”
Eventually it’s time for all to part ways. I click a “ show the sandwiches!” photo. Then display my retirement card (with contact info) in case they want a copy of the sandwich selfies. I rarely get feedback. It’s about the gratitude of the moment. I take this as another sign of our times.
However I look at these brief interludes as an opportunity for me to practice my conversational English. A skill which goes into remission during my brief stays in Durango.
Honestly I find these aerobic machines to be interesting, inspiring people motivated somehow to undergo long stretches of discomfort, exhaustion and at times pain. I’m impressed by what they are accomplishing.
Me? To hell with 20-30 mile days of being in motion! After 10-12 miles RT of hiking I’ll be turning back to Sanctuary One for a warm solar shower, a cold IPA, a Kindle book, a hot meal and a comfy bed.
I do believe the world needs more Trail Angels. I find it disheartening to know Americans spent $136.8 billion on their pets in 2022 (Source American Pet Products Association including $.5 billion on pet Halloween costumes alone) yet only donated $326 million to American Food Banks in 2021. I believe Americans priorities (once again) are mucked up. It’s people who are capable of making this a better world, (if we desire to) not Fido.
Maybe even a return to a Woodstock Nation!
Here’s a suggestion. If you’re heading off to a popular long distance trailhead, bring along a few spare sandwiches. Hand them out to surprised hikers. I’d like to hear your take of performing random acts of kindness just because.
Maybe we can start a movement!
Cheers from a soggy campsite somewhere in Colorado.
Jeff
Extra reading assignment. If you’re interested, here’s my origin story on becoming a Trail Angel.
Last photo: every Pika is a Trail Angel
