I’m not the only one on the Rock that walks. The Kivalina Hiking Club only has two other
members though, at best. Ms. Leah continues to diligently dress in layers
reminiscent of that episode of Friends where Joey put on all Chandler’s
clothes. Leah takes no chances when dressing for warmth although she has had to
resort to walking only one big dog at a time. She’s a member.
The other member of the Thousand Mile Club is a local named
Victor. To put it very bluntly, Victor is in need of some mental health
services. He is a “30 something” year old man that walks the village and
probably the island from end to end countless numbers of times in a single day.
In the last 6 months of walking, I could count the times that I have NOT seen
Victor on one hand. No matter the time,
Victor is usually out there. Somewhere.
He’s a tall man with a few scraggly hairs on his chin.
Although I make it a point to say “hello” anytime our paths cross, he’s never
reciprocated. He rarely makes eye contact. He does speak though. After he was a
server at the Community Thanksgiving Feast, I watched him seek out and thank
Pastor Enoch. He just doesn’t speak that often.
Around here, he’s known as Crazy Victor. It might have
something to do with his gait. From afar I can always tell when it’s
Victor. He usually walks on the ocean
side and more often than not, he’s down on the beach. When there was open water
and surging waves, I used to catch him chasing the waves in and out like a 5-year
might do. His beach stroll typically consists of random pirouettes, abbreviated
jumping jacks, or sometimes even a perfectly executed volleyball 3-step
approach. It’s as if he’s trying to impress somebody with his vertical leaping
ability or even trying to lift off in to space. These twists and turns are
usually short lived as Victor gets back in step like he’s got a plane to catch.
I wish he just walked. But he doesn’t. The voices in his head have caused some
family turmoil that is no business of mine. Victor has been found in teacher
housing qanichuqs as an uninvited guest. He’s been asked to leave the family
home more than once. People say he has demons.
My only guess is that he walks to clear his mind. He walks
to get out that nervous energy bottled up inside or to give time and space to the
voices that take over his every thought. I suppose that Victor walks to let his
mind wander from the snow-covered hills of the Baird Mountains to the setting
sun over the Chukchi Sea. There’s room out there away from the village and
that’s probably where it’s safest for Victor to work out what’s going on
between his ears.
I know that’s why I do it.
There’s a lot going on between my ears.
And in my heart.
I walk as often as I can. I sit at home and can physically
feel when I need the personal escape of a good brisk walk. I figure it’s about
2 miles out to my turnaround and probably close to that on the way back.
Shoulders back and chin up, as un-safe or un-cool as it may be, I’m not ashamed
to admit that I’ve had tears stream down my face without prior warning. With
the cadence of the crunching snow to distract me, I typically try to pray. It’s
more of an open dialogue with the Good Lord than a prayer because my mind often
wanders from family, wife and kids, to my job, to travel, to home, to my future,
to my past… and then I remember that I started things off as a prayer and it
helps me to refocus and remember to be thankful.
The distant mountaintops and howling winds and surging ice
can make a man feel pretty small. But these roundabout walks have become a good
place for me get my mind right – I just hope they’re doing the same thing for
my buddy, Crazy Victor.
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