After walking 400 kilometres, Kathleen decided to walk off the trail.
The first that Raby and I knew of her intentions was the previous day. On this day, we had woken up with almost no food left, hiked for a few kilometres, and then somehow taken a wrong turn and ended up walking out to the road for a few kilometres down some forgotten gorge. During the walk down the gorge, Kathleen had fallen and badly bruised her shin. The rest of us selfish walkers were up ahead hunting the road, and did not even realise she'd fallen. Given that we were off-course and hungry, the fall came at a bad time.
Anyway, it was after midday by the time we arrived at the place we were supposed to arrive at, a couple of hours later than expected. We stopped at a roadside restaurant to take stock of the situation and plan the afternoon's walking. Raby and I were in high spirits, mainly because of the food we had just eaten, but also because the valley we were in was beautiful, and the weather was hot and sunny. Kathleen was a little quiet. After eating, Kathleen dropped the bomb:
'I'm thinking about walking off the trail... I think I'm done...'
Raby and I sat there in silence, quite stunned and not sure how serious she was. After a minute or so I said 'This sounds like a serious situation...let's talk it out.' So we discussed what she had been thinking, that she was done with South Korea (Kathleen has been living on and off in SK for the last three years), that she wanted to get back home and see her family, that the thought of walking up another 'san' (mountain) was ghastly. That when she fell, she could not even see us. Basically, she did not want to carry on. The pass which we were at was frequented by buses. She could be on the next bus to the nearest small city, and from there take a bus back to Seoul. From almost anywhere on the Baekdu Daegan you can be back in Seoul within 5-6 hours.
Fuck! This was a serious situation. Raby and I are terrible at saying the things that need to be said in these situations, but somehow we convinced her to walk another 6 km, camp there, and sleep on it. This we did and we did not talk about the incident again. I thought it was an unpleasant memory which we would laugh at further down the line.
The next day we walked 19km. It was not a bad day for me, the trail was forgiving and at our final destination for the day there was a small motel and restaurants where we could wash our clothes, shower, and eat good food - as much as we wanted! This put me in a very good frame of mind and the 19km passed painlessly enough. Kathleen must have been up against it.
Yesterday's thoughts had opened a door which one should never talk about on the trail. Every hiker knows that door is there and where it leads to, they know the danger of opening that door. It is somewhere in the attic of the mind, out of sight, covered in dust. I have climbed the stairs to the attic and stood there before it, but knowing the cost of opening that door, I stand there for some time and then leave, climb back down the stairs, aware that soon enough I will find myself at that door again. Sometimes you make the climb more than once in a day.
What Kathleen and her mind had done sometime in the previous days was to open that door. In a word, she had given herself the option of quitting. Once opened, the door is very difficult to close again, and over the last 19 km she walked, her resolve to quit had strengthened. After eating at one of the restaurants, the word was passed:
"Guys, I am done. I want to walk off the trail even more than yesterday.'
Again, silence. Me and Raby looked sheepishly around, unable to meet her eye. For the life of me, I could not think of anything to say. Finally, Raby said something like 'Are you sure?' Yes, she was sure. What could you say? We were both gutted. Kathleen was great company along the trail, we had battled through 400 km together, she never complained, encouraged us to be semi-hygienic and was always positive, caring, and, (importantly), generous with her trail food! She also spoke fluent Korean and this helped immensely whenever we stumbled upon Koreans along the trail. If she wanted to leave, then I would not force her to stay.
Quitting is not bad in itself. I don't know many people who could make it as far as Kathleen on the Daegan. Raby and I push ourselves hard when we walk, and Kathleen always pulled through, no matter how rough the day. Four hundred kilometres gives you plenty of time to think, to straighten out any loose ends about the past, the future, to reach an equilibrium and to make important decisions, to find out once again what you like and don't like. I think Kathleen made some important decisions about her future on the Daegan, and in this sense the trail has served it's purpose for her. Those four hundred kilometres she can look back on and be proud of.
The next day we walked out without Kathleen. Raby and I vented our frustration and disappointment.
'Four hundred kilometres!' 'She was so close!' 'Three more weeks, max, and then she never had to hike again!'
We said a lot of things that we probably should have said to her the day before. She might have stayed on. I even thought about calling her phone and saying 'Kathleen, just don't think and start walking up the trail, we'll wait for you.' But I didn't - it was done. We kept walking. One foot in front of the other, never think about more than the next mountain you have to climb, never expect the walking to be easy, we do what we have to do to get through, keeping the mind at bay, and, under no circumstances will I open that door in the attic...
Thanks for everything Kathleen! Enjoy civilisation :-).
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