Trapani

1/8 Erice to Trapani - 9.54 miles

For my last official day of the walk, the nature path gods smiled upon me once more, as I managed to tumble down Mt. Erice with minimal use of roads. I simply walked down the mountain, weaving across hills, through pastures, and over rocks, with a few encounters with sheperd dogs to keep me on my toes. I also spoke with a few farmers, who though surprised to see me, were happy to help find the path to get down. So it was that I arrived at the foot of Mt. Erice quicker than I hoped, and faced the outskirts of Trapani.

As it is with every "last" experience, I found myself trying to memorize details, and above all, to think big and be profound about what I was doing. I would not say that I failed in this endeavor, only that I came up short, and naturally so: expectations always trounce reality, as I have seen oh so many times along the way.

I will save my breath and your time by fast-forwarding to the last stretch, the historic center of Trapani. As I reached my long awaited finish line, I felt most strongly the urge to shout out to everyone, to inform them of my grand triumph, to gather the children 'round and tell them a tale or two. Then I would settle down and realize that this moment was about me and my journey and not about recognition or applause, but all the while smiling and thinking "But if only they knew!"

Back and forth, craving attention and savoring detached introspection in waves, I finally reached the end, a squat two-story tower at the end of a long promenade. I wanted the final steps to be devoid of humanity, just me and my glorious accomplishment, but saw various motorcycles, cars, and daytime chatters enjoying the afternoon sun, and waved off my frivolous exigency. Nothing's perfect. I reached the tower, and touching the stone wall, thought, "so this is it." But not yet: I noticed a little passageway around either side that led to the rear, where a 5-foot drop to the rocks below announced the end of my walk.

I took a picture, examined the rocks, was happy to be alone and hidden behind the tower, and turned to go. Yeah right. I jumped that railing, edged my way down a steep set of stairs hewn into the sea wall, and carefully walked out onto the rocks, catching a picture of the tower from behind.

Turning around, I saw the rocks grow jagged and sparse as they stretched out into the sea, thinning to a sharp point, brave pioneers lashed by wind and waves. "No way I'm going out there," I thought, as I removed my shoes, zipped off the pant legs, and hid my backpack. "You've gotta stop somewhere," I murmured, as I gingerly stepped on the sharp, painful volcanic rocks covered with algae. "No way I'd have made it all the way out there anyways," I calculated, as I returned to my backpack, only to grab my sandals, and try once more.

And then it was all about not falling in, not breaking a bone, testing the algae before putting my whole weight on the rock, and just like that, all reflection and profound self-discovery went out the window. I could not tell you how long it took to reach that last rock, to lay on my belly, lean as far down as I could, and touch the very tip of the last piece of earth, a bit of rock bravely sticking out of the mass of water beyond. But I can tell you that it was worth the effort. I never stopped short, never took the cheater's way out, and now I had reached the last possible point, the last volcanic rock of an extended journey.

Well, this is it, this is what I've been waiting for. Remember this. Take some pictures and a movie. Mark the waypoint on the GPS. Get your feet wet. Ok, fine, but what about the ZEN moment, the Ahhh... of eternal understanding that comes included, the prize in my cracker jack box? No such luck, at least not for now.

What did I think about?
1. I wonder if someone took my backpack, wouldn't that be ironic.
2. I hope I don't get hurt on the way back.
3. I guess it's not the end, but the journey that means the most.
4. I'm hungry.
5. What do I do now?
6. I wonder if anybody else has ever been out here before?

Why do I admit that I was reduced to banality at my supposed moment of great realization, when I could easily have artificially implanted kernels of wisdom in my head post-walk, and it's all the same to you? Because this whole blog has served to share my thoughts, observations, and emotions, and it would be shameful of me to alter them at the very moment when they should be most candid, most real. I recently said that life does not come in a pretty package. I strongly feel that way, but more importantly, I see great beauty, awe-inspiring beauty, in that fact. And, you know, I must return once more to my favorite philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, who told me at 17 that it is not the world that is imperfect, but my perception of it as imperfect that makes it so. Changing my perception, I change my reality, and that is exactly what I did; I created a paradise, a life-changing experience, by taking a walk, a modern pilgrim on the shoulder of the state highway.