Happy Earth Day, 2009!

For those unfamiliar, Earth Day started in 1969 as a grassroots effort to make people aware of growing environmental issues, and particularly littering and pollution of the air, lakes, oceans and rivers. Because college campuses were typically where most movements were started, the date, April 22 was chosen because it would be a date that wouldn't interfere with most college activities and when most students would be available to participate. Drawing upon the success of the Vietnam educational "teach-ins" of the late 60s, a similar format was chosen for what was originally called the "Environmental Teach-In", later called "Earth Day." Within several years, the movement had made great strides toward holding polluters accountable, forcing them to clean up their messes and making people aware in general, about how their individual habits can affect the environment as a whole. With the construction and growing use of the Interstate Highway System in the 1950s, (yes, the interstate highways are only about 50 years old...) there was an increasing concern about the amount of highway litter being dumped on the sides of the roads and so the "Keep America Beautiful" campaign was started to raise awareness of the problem. The movement took on a new life with the environmental awareness campaigns of the 1960s. For those old enough, you probably remember the 1970's "Keep America Beautiful" ad campaign and the Ad Council commercials with "Iron Eyes Cody" which ended with the words, "People start pollution...people can stop it" : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7OHG7tHrNM And this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DH0U2AsyoWU It's interesting to note that the "Indian," Iron Eyes Cody was not Native American at all, but was an Italian Immigrant who adopted Native American ways and who starred in over 200 films and commercials. Until his death in 1999 he lived as a Native American and even adopted Native American children. Anyway, for any still reading. Earth day in the 21st century is still very much centered around concern for the environment and helping people realize the impact they can make, both positively and negatively on the environment as a whole through their actions. But the focus as switched over the decades from pollution and litter, to things like sustainable and low environmental impact energy creation as well as green house emissions and global warming as a whole. But whether you believe that Earth Day is a vital event needed to help save the planet, or a kooky scheme cooked up by us weird liberal tree-huggers, it really is within your power to make a global change with local action. Turn out a light in a room that doesn't need to be on. Combine two car trips into one, or just use a little less water today. Every little bit helps! Blessings to all and a happy Earth Day! Ron

New Direction...

(Originally written July 15, 2008)

It was two years ago, today...

The past few weeks had become nearly unbearable to hike during the day as a heat wave was scorching the country, drying up water sources making it harder and harder to keep hydrated. On a couple occasions, I was forced to filter water from stagnant pools in cow fields filled with cow patties and other animal droppings. The filter would only pump 10 or 12 squirts of filthy brownish water into my water bladder before clogging, requiring me to pull out the ceramic filter and clean it, before reassembling it and pumping again. It was too hot, and water sources were too unreliable, at least for the next 10-20 miles to pass up any chance at refilling my supply.

I was a day or so out of Pearisburg, Virginia, after a day of rest, all-you-can-eat pizza and an evening food buffet the night before, paid for by a woman who I helped with computer problems earlier in the day by chance when I wandered into her antique store. The first couple days out of town are always tough. With a pack full of food, there is usually a climb to get back onto a mountain ridgeline, which was common in Virginia where you would climb 1500 feet, (or 150 flights of stairs strewn with rocks, sticks and mud while carrying a 35 pound pack) walk for a couple miles, and then descend and then climb again, up and down like a rollercoaster. In fact, a little farther north is a section of the trail that is aptly called 'the rollercoaster' for that very reason.

This day was exceptionally hot and the sound of locusts buzzed all around me. My arms hung wearily by my side as I searched for any sign of reaching the first summit of the day. But most summits were illusions, since just when you think you are at the top of a particular climb, the trail makes an unexpected turn this way or that, revealing another ascent. And so it was for a good part of the day, until the treeline cleared, revealing a wide 'bald' which is an exposed mountaintop with no trees, like an open field. The white 2-inch by 6-inch blazes that are painted on trees to mark the trail were now visible, painted on 4x4 posts driven into the ground to mark the way, and up ahead was the sign that marked the shelter nearby.

The sign and side path to the shelter were at the summit, and a couple hundred yards away was the treeline and the angled tin roof of the shelter, always a welcomed sight. I took a sip of the nasty water and pushed down the side trail toward the fence, climbed over the stile and dropped my pack on the wooden floor and stretched. The breeze, even though it was warm, still felt cool as it blew across my perspired back. It always felt good those first few minutes after dropping off the pack, especially a full one.

As I sat on the floor of the shelter and looked out at the grassy field, a doe walked by, aware of my presence of course, but unafraid, as she had become used to hikers, many of whom undoubtedly offered food and drink. Interacting with wildlife was, after all, one of the highlights of the hike. 

Her eyes were like huge black onyx marbles as she grazed along the fenceline, watching me now and then to make sure I wasn't a threat. Wildlife on the trail was wonderful to see and I saw deer pretty much every day now, especially in the mornings and evenings.

Out in the field, the breeze blew the grass indicating that rain may be coming. It was never definite on the trail except during the early spring. But the sky was ominous and forboding.

I opened up my pack and dug out my cell phone to call my wife as I would do from time to time or at least see if I had service, which I did. I wanted to tell her about the deer that was just a few feet away. And surprisingly, just as I turned my phone on, it started to ring, it was my wife.

"Hello?" I answered with a smile. Her voice was hesitant and so I asked what was wrong. "Your mom...." she said. "She passed away this morning..." Now, my mom had been sick for some time and had gotten worse after my father passed away. It, wasn't entirely unexpected, but I had just seen her a month earlier when I went home to have my foot x-rayed after a fall.

I was numb... I was already demoralized after finally realizing that I would not complete my thru-hike of the entire 2,175 mile Appalachian Trail which I was undertaking in part to raise money for a local charity. The heat wave was causing dehydration daily and most of my days lately were spent without seeing any other hikers. In addition, the 'green tunnel' of unchanging scenery in Virginia had been taking its toll as had the constant challenge of foot and knee pain.

I talked to my wife a bit, and then my brother and then my sister. It was my choice to come home or not, although it would be several days before I could do so, which meant I would not be home in time for the funeral anyway. It was agreed that I would continue on my hike as that is what my mom would have wanted.

I hung up from them and sat there for a good long hour, emotionless, wanting to cry, but nothing could come out. I stood up and looked at a nearby tree that had a beautiful luna moth on it.

The clouds continued to build, but no rain was in sight. I climbed over the stile in front of the shelter, back into the field and climbed a bit to the summit where there were some exposed rocks. I sat down on one and looked down over the town below, contemplating that I had now lost my mom...the first realization that I was truly on my own now.

I looked up into the sky and asked God to shepherd her safely to my father who had been waiting. They were about to celebrate their 50th anniversary when my father died after years of complications from a lifetime of smoking. My mother had lamented every day and evening since. It was devastating to see the pain she was in, doing everything she could to avoid the thoughts of how much she missed him, and how much she would cry and hold my hands wishing he were still around. I could do and say nothing that would help her, and in fact, I found as I got older, I missed him even more each day. But that was over now... her suffering and her ailing health was no longer a problem, and in those facts alone, I was able to find peace on that afternoon.

I went back to the shelter after sitting out on that rock for a while, watching the clouds billow and roll with the thermals, and found the shelter register and made my log entry. I would only make it one more week on the trail before the heat, foot and leg pains and defeated morale would take its toll. I hitched into Roanoke, Virginia and took the first flight home. I was done. I love you, mom and dad.... I miss you so...

In Detox...

It's been almost four months since I returned from the trail.

I'm sitting here at the keyboard lost, caught between the realm of the living and an unfulfilled dream, trying to make sense of where I am with things. On one hand, I feel triumphant for the successes I have achieved and the things I experienced out in the wilderness, but on the other hand, I feel like I've wasted the four months since my return, trying to figure out what to do next with my life. In my time on the trail, I became even less fearless about the challenges life has to offer, as if there is nothing that I can't do or achieve. How fantastic to be able to perceive life in that way, but this fearlessness is a double-edged sword. For now, I am presented with so many options, I cannot decide which way to go.

I have written over 300 pages so far, transcribing my journal into a memoir which represents only about 6 weeks of my hike. This will at least double by the time I am done, and from that, I will probably cut it down to half or even a third as I work on the final manuscript for my book. While my journal only contains a paragraph or two for each day that I hiked, my photos have served to jog my memory and provide an extensive resource to draw from. It is only now, while I am writing, that I can finally begin to comprehend and come to appreciate the depth of my experience. While I was hiking, I was too self-absorbed with the daily tribulations of finding shelter, food and water.

It is only several months from now that I would begin hiking this year to continue my journey. But there are so many challenges I have to overcome between now and then if it's to become a reality. And more importantly, I have not even sat down to discuss my potential return with my wife and what the implications of that are.

I will be updating my blog frequently from now on. For those of you still checking in, I thank you.

Muddyshoes

The Day Has Arrived...

Well, in a few short hours I'll be on a flight back to Virginia.

The time off the trail has been confusing at best as I've tried to understand the onslaught of emotions associated with the death of my mother and the accepting of the fact that I won't complete my hike to Maine this year. According to my original plans four years ago, I was to be summiting Kathadin 2 days from now, but as they say, life is what happens when you had other plans. Instead, I will be finishing at Harper's Ferry, West Virginia in six weeks. 1,000 miles, still an amazing feat, especially for someone like me who has had no hiking and limited camping experience previously.

This morning as I ready to go, I read a story on the CNN website with the title, "Jet passenger tries to open exit door in mid-flight." Apparently this guy in military fatigues started wacking out and punching the air and then got up and headed for the door. A flight attendant called for help and other passengers and air marshalls wrestled this guy into submission. Just the kind of excitement I need as I make my exit from Orlando, voted the angriest city in America.

I held my wife closely this morning and looked into her eyes. It won't be the first time I have left her during this journey and each time is exceedingly more difficult. Unlike previous times I have left her, I know specifically what lies ahead as far as challenges on the trail are concerned. And having spent 3 and a half months out in the wilderness already this year, I have really come to appreciate small and subtle comforts of home such as clean laundry, a shower more than once every 10 days, immediate access or fairly quick access to any type of food or drink I cold desire, and a comfortable and warm bug-free bed to sleep on. Mostly, I have come to appreciate my wife who has been so patient and understanding with me when most women would have booted me away many years ago. She is my heart and soul and I will miss her again.

Now you may be asking yourself, "why the hell would he want to go back out there then?" And to be honest, I've asked myself that a few times. But the truth is once I am out there, it is a feeling of freedom and of adventure to be out in the woods depending upon myself and my abilities to adjust and adapt to the challenges that living in nature brings. It's invigorating to come across a snake or a steep cliff knowing that I have to depend upon myself to get past these challenges. And on those days when it's raining and I'm soaked and yet still perspiring and basically miserable, that in a few days or whatever, I'll be dry and clean and comfortable again.

Sometimes it takes extreme personal challenge and discomfort to truly appreciate the gifts that we have and so often take for granted. Never again, for example, will I look at fresh water and the abundance of food we have and just pass it off as something we are just entitled to.

One more important thing. As of today, I have raised over $9,000 for the Russell Home for Atypical Children, which is almost half of my goal of $20,000. To those who have donated, I thank you, not only on behalf of the Russell Home, but because of your belief in me.

My plane leaves in a few hours. It's time to finish packing.

Muddyshoes

eMail I received today...

I missed the Internet while I was on the trail and eMail messages such as the following which I have cut and pasted below. I assumed they were naturally talking about hiking gear but my wife seems to think they meant something different. What do you think?

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Take your chance to make her adore you. Outrun her ex in terms of size and performance! You will love watching it, feeling it and of course using it - just several weeks to go! After you apply this solution to your equipment, your girls will call you Mr. Big Size. Just imagine your new happy life with more size, more adoration from females and more self-assurance. Come in here:

Changes...

They happen gradually on the trail, but they indeed happen...changes to your body and mind. Being out in the wilderness, in the wilds, awakens thousands, if not millions of years worth of instincts that have been slowly driven out of us as we live our concrete-enveloped lives. These instincts are suppressed by the daily stresses that we impose on ourselves such as improper diets, lack of exercise and fresh air, living inside our air-conditioned boxes day after day waking up and going to bed at times other than what our body would like. We create an artificial environment which robs us of our natural rhythms and spend almost all of our waking days there, rarely venturing out into nature.

While it's true that we all have to make a living, our workplace with its artificial lighting and artificial atmosphere, slowly robs us of our natural strength and vitality until we wake up one day wondering why our backs hurt so much, why we are tired all the time and why we just don't seem in tune to the world around us. We try to escape to the mountains or the ocean or someplace else for a week or two, and during that time, we recover slightly and are refreshed. But after only a couple days of returning to the grind, we find ourselves right back in the same rut, almost as bad off as we were before our vacation. If we could only win the lottery, we think to ourselves, day after day.

Spending a long period of time in the wilderness resets this clock. It erodes the wear-and-tear effects that break down our body, mind and spirt, and helps bring balance and normalcy back to our being. We find that peace, and discover that it didn't actually reside in the woods, but within ourselves. It just took us being out in the woods to find it again. The Appalachian Trail is but one place that can help you find this.

Some of the first changes you notice after being out in the wilderness for a while, are the daily aches and pains of your body telling you, "hey bub...you're supposed to be in an air-conditioned cubicle relaxing and surfing the web." You hurt often and regularly, at least for a little while. This is from your body moving in ways it maybe hasn't moved in years. It is the awakening of muscles in your feet, legs, hips and the rest of your body that haven't been exercised like that before, or at least in a while. If you are gentle and listen to your body, you will adapt, and the pains will subside eventually as it gets used to the new activity. But you must be open to what your body is telling you, and you must listen. It knows what it needs.

Your vision, blunted from years of artificial lighting and a two dimensional computer screen, will change making colors more vivid. Your depth perception will improve as you exercise the muscles in your eyes. You will see better when it is darker outside and in lower light levels, and sometimes at night when the moon is full, you will see quite well without a flashlight. You will notice very small animals that you might not have noticed before and the seemingly unlimited color pallete of nature will open up right before your eyes in all its splendor.

Your hearing will improve. No longer jammed with the sounds of hard-to-hear cell phone calls, earphones, loud stereo music, beeps and tones, you will hear a wider range of sounds from rustling leaf noises to shrill and faint bird calls a mile away. You will learn to distinguish animal calls and will hear sounds in nature you might never have noticed before. The sounds of rushing water from streams and water falls will soothe and calm you, and as the waters carry away the dead and decaying debris of the forest, so will they help carry away the decay of dread of the concrete world you have left behind.

Your sense of touch will improve. You will touch hot things, cold things, lukewarm things, soft things, hard things, artificial materials, natural materials and everything in between. To touch a 500 year old oak tree and ponder how the world has changed while this tree simply grew on this one spot is amazing in itself. To touch sedimentary rock formations that are millions of years old, an age measured by geologic time because that many years is impossible for us to fathom is amazing. To stand at the tip of a mountain top and touch the marble slabs at its peak and to look down at the ridges that were once filled with mile-deep sheets of ice is incredible to imagine.

Your sense of taste will improve as you begin to drive out those daily artificial colors and sweeteners from your body which are dozens of times more potent than they need to be. Food which you might have once doused with flavorings might only need a pinch of pepper or drop or two of hot sauce. You will begin to not want these artificially prepared foods as much, and start craving more healthy and natural foods as you begin to get in touch with what your body needs and not what you are told you want by advertisers. You will enjoy foods more, and appreciate them more because they are not surrounding you in such abundance, 24 hours a day.

Your sleep routine will change and you will find yourself getting tired and going to bed when the sun goes down and waking up when the sun begins to rise. You don't go to bed at 1AM in the wilderness like we do in our homes. Our body gets us up when the sun begins to rise, not at 5AM because we have to shower and hit the road before rush hour. On the trail we often sleep 10-12 hours because it's what our body needs and we have a lot more energy as a result. It's all about connecting.

The changes that wilderness life brings to us include these things and many more. If you think about it, it really helps bring us back in touch with the millions of years of evolution which brought us here today and that make us who we are.

It's easy to get so stressed out with our lives. Trust me on this, I know only too well. But the good news is that relief is available to us, not just the temporary kind that we feel during a vacation and which fades as soon as we return, but life changing relief that can take us from our daily challenging lives full of stress and challenges and deliver us to a place of peace and contentment.

It's all out there in the wilderness, we just have to decide to go out and get it.

Variety - The Spice of Life...

In between my more meaningful blog entries, I put some mundane ones in there. Yesterday I wrote two entries... one deep, meaningful and spiritual entry about the trail, and another about tortillas. But in reality, they are linked as my tortilla experiences were as meaningful as my deer encounters. Any food experiences on the trail are quite meaningful because as you hike your appetite grows stronger and stronger and even things that you would never have eaten before you started hiking are welcomed respites from the daily grind of noodles and pasta.

Tuna. I really don't like tuna and never had. I think the last time I ate it was back in 1968. I was watching Popeye, the one where Bluto steals Olive Oil and takes her over to the ship, etc. I thought I was getting chicken salad and when I bit into the sandwich, it was tuna. I felt betrayed, tricked and humiliated. Ok, maybe not that drastic as a 4 year old, and now that I think about it, I think I was watching Felix the Cat instead. Anyway, I haven't eaten tuna in as long as I can remember.

Oh, perhaps you think I am going to say that I tried it on the trail for the first time in 37 years. Nope, I still hate it and would probably die of starvation rather than open that mylar pack of Sunkist tuna, but I have come close to trying it on those days where I ran out of food a day before town. And that last day or so before town is when you eat all the strange stuff in your food bag or things you've been putting off. Sometimes it becomes a mixture of tastes and whatever you have left over becomes the casserole for the evening. Noodles and peanut butter was one memorable meal. Throwing it all up an hour later was also quite memorable.

But as one's food bag is filled with a variety of foods and tastes, so are my blog entries here; some meaningful and tasty, and others about privies or webwalking. Take what you like and stuff the rest back in your food bag for later. If you get hungry and there haven't been any new blogs for a while, break open the food bag and read some of the older ones.

Muddyshoes

Tortillas

Tortillas are magical in every way. They really are. They are the perfect hiking food as they hold just about everything and can stand up to just about any weather. My favorite things are to roll up peanut butter and jelly in them, or those little packets of cooked chicken breast with cheese and that irradiated bacon that is precooked and supposedly survives for months without refrigeration. You can use them with tuna or if you get some lettuce while in town, you can make all kinds of wraps with whatever you like. But on the trail, a 10 pack of soft tortillas offers a wide variety of options for keeping your meals interesting since just about every type of food that hikers carry can be wrapped inside them.

The only problem with tortillas is that they aren't available all the time. Occasionally, the tiny market which you often come across in trail towns will have tortillas, but generally they are limited to larger supermarket chains. Sometimes you have to buy packs of the small ones, sometimes the large ones or whatever you can find. But when you do find them, it always heralds a week or so of quick, convenient and inexpensive meals.

They may just about be the perfect food.

Muddyshoes

I love the trail...

I really do. You wouldn't think that from all the bitching I've done in my blog, but all things considered, it was the pleasant memories that stick out the most to me. I mean, think about it. I was able to leave a career that didn't fit me anymore; leave all that behind and take six months off to hike in the woods. No cell phone, no pager, no telemarketers, no stupid drivers, no loud television, no barrage of advertising being shoved down my throat at every turn, no crabby boss telling me that my work was not up to his expectations, no shitty work reviews or performance appraisals, no paying $3.00/gallon and up for gas because we've pissed off the whole middle east again, no Jehovah's waking me up on Sunday mornings, no screaming car salesman, no news people or polititians taunting me with fear-based propaganda, and best of all, I could eat whatever I wanted every morning, noon and night and each point in between.

There are countless tradeoffs to be sure, like wearing the same stinky and sweaty clothing for a week, 8 hours of really challenging physical work each day, rain, snow, sleet and hail, loud shelter-mates and bugs...lots and lots of bugs. But over time, you forget about these inconveniences...most of them, anyway, and you remember the kind people you met, the beautiful sunrises and sunsets, the days where the trail was nice to you and your feet and having countless special encounters with wildlife. I think about the many deer that I've seen which foraged just several feet away from the shelter platform where I was laying on many occasions. I remember the hummingbirds that flew just feet away from me and buzzed and hummed assessing me for nectar potential. And I remember seeing my first red salamander which contrasted brightly against the brown leafy trailbed where I was walking in North Carolina. I remember walking through the misty fog after a cool, morning rain and the loamy moss covered rocks and trees which I'm sure held faeries and other mystical creatures. Yes, I've seen all these wonderful things and more, and that is literally a one in a million opportunity.

I think about the effects of my words in my blogs and writings, occasionally. I don't want to paint too much of a negative picture and possibly dissuade someone from making this journey. On the other hand, I want to try and really portray how challenging an experience this has been for me, and indeed it has been the most difficult thing I've ever attempted. But I'm committed, and even though I won't finish this year as I intended, I will finish, which was one of the things I was most concerned about. If you may recall, my life is full of many things that I didn't finish and this trip was hopefully meant to make up for them...well, most of them anyway.

Think about the freedom that a trip of this imparts, how empowering it is to be able to control just about every aspect of your day except for the weather. And then think about how little control you have over the normal aspects of your normal day at home and work. This is a rare opportunity to be sure.

What? You can't do this trip because you have family, too much debt, are too old, too young, have responsibilities or are in poor health? The truth is, this journey can wreak havoc on all those things, but then again, if you plan for it, there are none of those things which can't be overcome. I met countless families on the trail or people who had families back home. I met a couple who had a big house and lots of debt back home and they hike a little bit of the trail each year. I met people in their 80s on the trail and a good number of thru-hikers in their 60s. I met a young boy of 10 thru-hiking with his father. I met a couple CEOs of companies who just decided they needed a break. And there's me, an overworked, out of shape computer jockey who couldn't go up a flight of stairs without being out of breath. 3 and a half months later, I completed my 700th mile of the trail and will be getting back on next month to finish walking 1,000 miles this year.

The truth is that there is no good reason or excuse why you can't do this. There is no situation that cannot be planned for, and granted, it may take a while before you are ready. I had to plan for 4 years to make this happen, but if it takes you even 10 years before you can do this...where will you be in 10 years otherwise?

We are the sources of our own limitations, not those things in our lives that we blame or that we put in our way so that we cannot do things. You have to first make the decision that this is something important to you and then start planning for it. There are countless resources and places to go for information. Remember that I had never done any hiking or backpacking when I decided to do it. The next four years were spent learning what all this hiking stuff is and then saving to buy it. Draw from any experiences in your life where you overcame tremendous odds to accomplish something phenominal. C'mon, you know you have something you can remember. You are the same person now as you were then, you just have a lot more life experiences to draw from.

If I have inspired you at all to take this journey, you don't even have to do it in one sitting. You can do it in a year, or over two years, or five years. One couple I met just outside the Smokey Mountain National Park had been hiking parts of the trail for over 35 years and they only had about 135 miles left. Some of the most inspiring, thoughtful people I've come across were those who had made their hike of the Appalachian Trail one of adventure and wonder every year or every time they set foot upon the path over the course of several years or more. I think in many ways, they are more fortunate than shlubs like me who feel they have to do this trail in one year. They see a lot more because they aren't rushed by a deadline, and they have the wonder of starting the trail "new" every time they head out.

So what are you waiting for...a lifetime of cherished memories, physical challenges and personal triumphs beyond anything you could ever imagine are there for you to experience. You just have to make the commitment to experience them.

Oh, and a shitload of bugs await you too. I do love the trail, but I really, really hate the bugs.

Muddyshoes

Broken Values...

It's been almost a month since I've gotten off the trail this year.

The past few weeks have been a blur. I've hidden out from the world, wrestled internally with all of my decisions made so far, and have tried to catch up on sleeping and eating. It's only been this week that I've started answering emails, phone calls and have started to transition back into the real world, only to leave it again next month when I return to the trail. I have visited a department store or two, but nothing could have prepared me for a visit to someplace I hadn't been in over a year... Costco.

Now while that may not seem drastic to you, consider that for the past 4 months, the average store that I've seen, with the exception of a supermarket or two, has been a small 'mom and pop' grocery or 'General Dollar" or some other limited general store. Costco was huge, and loud, stacked high with electronics, giant boxes of 3-Musketeers, paper towels and 36-packs of croissants. People with glazed eyes wandered around the store like zombies pushing large, wide shopping carts and filling them with huge boxes of bulk merchandise with the justification that they are saving money by buying in bulk. Now this is true, but many of these people were rather large, showing that they are also eating in bulk.

I was captivated almost immediately, as was Costco's intention, by the stack of large plasma televisions I was herded through immediately as I entered the store - In just 4 months, high definition screens had become thinner and less expensive and the good folks at Costco conveniently loaded several of them on carts in case I just wanted to 'drive' one to the nearest cashier, pay for it, take it home and start 'slothing' out on the gross of Ring Dings that I was meant to have purchased at the same time.

I fought the urges to buy some camera memory, in part because I really didn't need it but also because I didn't have the money. Costco and other big box bulk stores are as much about impulse buying as they are about buying sensibly. Instead, I walked with my wife to the pharmacy to pick up her prescription. You see, Costco offers better deals on many prescriptions than your convenient, square corner drug store. While I was waiting for the prescription to be filled, I inquired on the cost of my ADHD medication which I have not had in months because of the cost and because I don't have insurance at the moment. $118.00 I was told. "$118.00? Are you shitting me?" It had already gone up another $20.00 since I left for the trail.

This really, really angered me, as if our health care system in this country didn't already do that. Here I am, in Costco, the Mecca of decadence, surrounded by every type and class of product you can imagine at the lowest prices possible, and a month's worth of my prescription costs more than a flat panel monitor for a computer.

So it hit me.

While the prices of all these laptop computers, books, DVDs, tools, pool tables, filing cabinets, water coolers, lawn mowers, digital cameras, bug zappers and other shit that most people don't need keep dropping every day, the prices of the things that they DO need like medications go up in price. What the hell is that? How come our country, the richest in the free world with the most potential and resources for taking care of its citizens, places more emphasis on greed and capitalism than on the well-being of the people who live there? As for my medication, I could work harder for that extra $118.00/month or for better insurance to make the prescription cost less, but there are plenty of other people...people you know or perhaps yourself that can't. That just plain sucks in 2006.

When I got home, without either a new 60-inch high definition TV or a 2,000-count jug of Rolaids, I looked up a couple studies that showed that the wholesale cost of my medication was around $3.00. Now I want you think about that for a moment. Please.

Ok, so that's a markup of oh, around 4000%. Do they really need to make 4000% profit? What if they made 2000% or even 1000%? 1000%, now that's reasonable considering that the profit for merchandise in a store is around 40%, or less with electronics. Computer manufacturers are thriving on profits of 2% or 3% in some cases, and they still have huge facilities, large payrolls and management perks, and they still can fund R&D. But drug manufacturers and their drug store partners in crime are reaping huge profits from the ills of you and I, funded by the insurance industry which pays these high prices without question. Who gets screwed? I do, YOU do, the people you love do, by our having to pay higher insurance premiums. The drug manufacturers and drug companies don't want you well, they want you sick so you will buy more medicine. Think about it... please. Because while my ADHD medicine isn't something that can mean the difference between life or death, the meds that others aren't taking who can't afford them are.

I stopped looking for information about this because I was too disgusted. Michael Moore, whether you like him or not, is working on a new movie called "Sicko" which is about the health care industry in this country. No doubt the health care industry is already working on damage control as evidenced by the increasing numbers of commercials showing how their profits are being put to good use to fund research. To that end, I have to ask, what good is research to make better drugs if people can only afford them with insurance. And then I ask, what good is insurance, if people can't afford it. According to the U.S. Census, in 2004, 12.7% of U.S. citizens lived below the poverty line. That's 38 million people, folks. And 15% of U.S. citizens do NOT have health insurance. That's 45 million people. 45 million people in the richest country in the world do not have health insurance. That really sucks.

About the only thing these people can afford, is a 60 inch plasma TV.

Is it any wonder why someone would want to leave all this crap behind and go walk in the woods for six months?

MuddyShoes

No Rain, No Pain, No Maine...

I'm writing this blog entry in the style of my friend, "AWOL" who thru-hiked in 2003 and whose chronicle is outlined in his book, "AWOL ON THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL." It's a great read and I recommend it:

http://www.awolonthetrail.com/

There are several mantras that thru-hikers repeat while on the trail...one of them is "No Rain, No Pain, No Maine." As it might imply, the trail from Georgia to Maine is full of opportunity for both, rain and pain. Here is an experience common to anyone who has undertaken this journey.

It was a rough night, my hips are hurting a bit from the many times that I rolled around last night on the hard wooden shelter floor. One bird nearby has begun his song this morning, heralding the first specs of light which are appearing on the horizon outside of the shelter. I poke my head out lightly from my sleeping bag and a cold wind chills my face. I glance above to my shorts, shirt and socks which were hung wet in hopes that they would magically dry during the night, but I know that they are still wet and stinky. And they are actually colder as the wind has been blowing through them all night.

I also notice that the rest of the birds that usually would be singing at this time of the morning are absent and it is not as light as it usually is. I roll over onto my back again, warm in my other set of dry clothes not looking forward to getting up and hiking out in the cold. A distant clap of thunder announces the coming rains which will make it even colder. I pull the hood of my sleeping bag over my head and try to get a little more sleep just as a couple loud drops of rain tap loudly on the metal roof of the shelter.

About 10 minutes later, a loud crack of lightning hits somewhere outside, followed moments later by a steadily growing tapping noise of rain hitting the leaves in the canopies above, until they can no longer hold the weight of the drops. The shelter roof starts to receive the rain. I sigh and notice that the twinge of pain in my left knee has not subsided. Uncomfortably, I roll over onto my right side.

The rains come slow and steady telling me that they aren't going to stop anytime soon. Water dripping down the roof of the shelter results in a small pool of orange water despite the attempts to create a drainage path away to the side. Every once in a while, the wind causes the rain to spatter inside the shelter onto the platform next to me.

I have 12 miles to go to town today. I'm nearly out of food except for a couple food bars, I can't sit here another day despite how much I would love to just stay in my warm bag. I glance up at my wet, cold clothing knowing I have to put them on. I can't go out in my dry clothes because those will get wet quickly, and dry clothes may save my life should something happen requiring me to setup my tent before I reach town. I've already experienced the onset of hypothermia, previously, and don't want to go through it again.

My knee throbs again. I reach for my Ibuprofin and take 4. Usually they help, but the cold weather makes it even more sensitive.

Reluctantly, I pull down the zipper on my sleeping bag and feel the chill along my body. I don't want to get up but I have to. I'm out of food and I have to get to town before the post office closes today at 1:30pm.

I take off my warm dry socks first and put on the cold wet socks. They stink and they don't go on easily. I get chilled goose bumps from the coldness and water drips from the toes of the socks as I press them. Next are the wet shorts. I slip off my warm dry shorts and surprisingly, the cold wind doesn't chill me like I thought it would, at least not until I pull on the wet shorts which I do as my teeth begin to chatter. The ice cold wind blows into the shelter through the wet clothes I'm wearing. I begin to hurry since I'm starting to shiver.

Lastly, I take off my warm shirt and pack my dry clothes into my clothes bag and put on the ice cold wet hiking shirt. Every inch of my body begins to get colder. I know I have to pack up quickly and get moving before hypothermia sets in. The rain continues but now I've committed. I put on my rain jacket which will function as a vapor barrier keeping me warm while I hike, but will do nothing for me until I get going. Rain jackets don't work to keep hikers dry, only to keep them warm. The heat I generate while wearing one makes me perspire heavily underneath it. Lightning strikes again nearby, the rain isn't going anytime soon. My knee continues to throb and I can't wait until the Ibuprofin kicks in.

I finish the packing of my pack and put on the rain cover. It isn't the greatest but does keep a bit of rain out of my pack and possessions, assuming the wind doesn't blow too heavily. Lastly, I sit down and struggle to pull on my stinky, muddy wet shoes and tie the laces. They are ice cold to the touch. My knee twinges as I pull on my shoe but I stand and feel water pressing through my toes and outside the tops of my shoes. The trail is no doubt muddy already and I will be "washed" from the sides by the bushes and trees I bump into as I hike.

I pull on my pack, clip the hip belt and then the chest strap and pull the straps taught. I grasp the edges of my pack cover to make sure it is covering as much as it can and take a quick bite out of an oatmeal bar that was in my pocket. I take a quick last glance into the shelter to see if I've forgotten anything and find that I forgot to take the headlamp off from around my neck. I take it off quickly and stash it into one of my pockets in a ziplock bag that has a little room. I grasp my hiking poles and wonder why I am walking through lightning in ankle-deep pools of water carrying metal sticks. I step down from the shelter and feel the rain tap on the outside of my nylon hood and plod onward. Not 15 feet outside of the shelter I step into the first of countless pools of water up to my ankle completely soaking my left shoe.

But I hike on, hoping to build my body temperature to keep from getting too cold and sick. It's what we hikers do. The water squishes inside my shoe with each step.

I plod onward. It's about 12 miles to town, 6 hours if I'm lucky and the trees don't crash down on top of me. I can't wait until I can be dry for the first time this week.

No Rain, No Pain, No Maine...

Muddyshoes

The Privy Experience...

You are missing it all... really.

A privy is basically a modern day outhouse and they appear in all shapes and sizes along the Appalachian Trail. Privies can be little houses or huts, or they can simply be toilets sitting on top of open platforms 5 feet above the ground so you can share your business with all the creatures of the forest.

Now privies, as you might imagine, attract flies and bugs - and as you also might imagine, things that eat flies and bugs, namely spiders, also like privies. When you come to a privy in camp, or at least when I do, the first thing I do is to take a broom with me and lift up the privy toilet seats which are usually standard toilet seats. Covering the bottom are piles of spider webs and of course spiders.

It's well known that black widow spiders inhabit the undersides of privy toilet seats and I have seen them on many occasions along with other types of spiders and webs.

So, to shit in the woods or shit in the privies...

If I have a broom to clear out the webs and if the privy isn't too creepy, I will generally choose the privy and make a quick job out of it. The goal is to plan efficiently enough so you can unzip, drop the drawers, sit down, do your business and then stand up in under 10 seconds. Any time longer than that gives ample opportunity for the spiders to leap across and latch on to something I'd rather not have them latch onto. "Hey look Jose...bite the pinata and get a prize, homez..."

Indeed, half the fun of using a privy is finishing without a scratch...in any form. But still, they are welcomed sites in the forest and do not appear without a lot of work to get them there and maintain them by the volunteers who do so. Thank you, volunteers!

Muddyshoes

Webwalking - Part II

Ugh.. I hate it. I still hate bugs.

This time of year, since I often walk alone, I spend entire days clearing webs with my face - In many cases I come across them about every 5-10 feet, literally hundreds of webs broken per mile. It's disgusting.

But, after a while you just get used to it. It takes too much energy to keep stopping and clearing them away - So you walk along, feeling them wrap around your ears and your head, your arms and hands. You just try to put it out of your mind.

Occasionally, after a "webrunning" you see or feel a spider crawling up your face -The amount of time it takes for a spider to climb from any area of your face to your nose, eyes or ears is exactly 2.3 seconds. At this point, you stop, do the hokey pokey screaming and wave erratically until your fellow hikers think you are mad. But you get it off you in a jiffy, and plod on knowing there are more spiders ahead.

I hate spiders and all other bugs - always have, always will... Where are the bloody bats?

Muddyshoes

"Getting HIgh" on the trail

I love getting high on the trail - Not with drugs..but with altitude.

When the trail rises above about 5500 feet, there is a dramatic change in the appearance of trees and bushes. Conifers begin to appear and trees in general start to appear smaller. Rock faces become more 'rough' and the air is replete with the Christmasy smell of fir and balsam. The trees are often dense and close together and there is an a little bit of a spooky feel. Tiny pine cones coat the ground and because the canopies create dark enclaves, you expect a sasquatch to jump out at you at any minute.

Clingman's Dome was the first opportunity to see this beautiful environment, and Roan Mountain was the second. I have since seen these beautiful trees on Mount Rogers and a couple other areas. While I live decidedly at sea level, I'll always remember the clean, fresh scent of pine and balsam, long after I return home.

If you haven't gotten 'high' lately - I highly (no pun intended) recommend it ;)

Muddyshoes

Trail Reroutes...

Thousands of people walking through the woods with 30-50 pounds on their backs can take its toll on a hiking trail - Combine that with rains and the footsteps of other forms of wildlife and the trail bed can drop down even lower in the ground disturbing the root systems of trees. When it gets too bad, then the A.T. clubs will often choose to reroute the trail through a different path in the forest. But there's more too it than just digging a new trail.

The process, as explained to me by one of the A.T.'s senior trail maintainers is roughly as follows:

- The local club ties ribbons along trees along the new proposed path in the woods.
- The Appalachian Trail Conservency, the group that oversees the A.T. as a whole then follows along the trail making changes that it wants to ensure a consistency in path 'experience' for the hikers.
- Then the Forest Service has to approve this path making changes as needed.
- Then, the state archeologist has to walk the proposed path to make sure that no historically important areas are being disturbed.
- Finally, a botanist has to walk the trail - 4 times, once for each season, to make sure there are no rare plants or flowers that are being disturbed by the proposed trail or shelter.
- When the final inspections have been done, the trail is then dug by the local trail crews and the blazes are painted, distances taken and maps updated.

The whole process takes about three years.

The Berries are In...

I started to notice about three weeks ago that the wild black raspberries were starting to ripen - It's usually when the trail emerges into an open space where you can find berry bushes lining the trail - Black raspberries, blackberries, white and black mulberries and wild cherries are becoming more and more visible along the trail. It's a nice addition to a boring regimen of oatmeal and when mixed with vanilla ice cream in town, it's pure heaven.

Sometimes, however, in bush areas that are heavy with berries, you have to contend with local wildlife and blackbirds actually drop sopping wet blackberries on you from above, staining your clothes and skin. You can almost hear them laughing as they drop their bombs. But still, it's worth it, having a handfull or two of fresh, wild berries in the middle of a scorching hot day.

An adventure you really must try...

On the way back from Orlando, I decided to take a Greyhound bus.

I did this for a couple reasons. One, the price was the best price I could find to get back to the small, remote town of Damascus, Virginia. And two, I needed some compelling reasons to want to be away from civilization and sure enough, by the time I stepped off the bus in Bristol, Tennessee, I had plenty of them. Now if you haven't had the pleasure of taking a Greyhound bus, you really should do it before you die. That, and you should take a train which I did from Damascus to Orlando. That was another story in itself, but allow me to share what I learned from the 'bus experience.'

Two types of people take bus transportation across parts of the country: Those who don't have any money to take anything better, and those running away from something who need to get away from whatever that is as soon as possible. I suppose there is another type, people like me who are gluttons for punishment.

When I arrived at the Greyhound station in Orlando, the first thing I saw was a large sign on the front door which stated, "No concealed firearms are allowed inside this building." I was concerned about other riders carrying machine guns and bazookas, so my fears were put to sleep when I saw that they had to leave those outside. But when I entered the facility, one whole wall of the waiting area was filled with video games that had those red and blue plastic guns so you could still shoot people while you waited for your bus. I'm sure this was a welcomed repreive for those criminals who would be my bus mates for the duration of my voyage.

As I looked around, I was also fascinated to see that this station, which I assumed was cleaned with some regularity, was still three times dirtier than the wilderness mud-strewn shelters I passed each day on the trail. But the station was not only dirty, it was sticky. Everything was sticky, no doubt from a combination of tobacco spit, baby saliva, fecal matter and drool from the local patrons who were forced to wait hours for the pleasure of "going Greyhound."

I popped in the customer service line and made a painless adjustment to my ticket, and then moved to another line behind gate number 5 where I was to board my bus in about 45 minutes. Along with me stood:

- Two very drunk and obnoxious construction workers with farmer tans, mullets and disagreeable attitudes.
- A family of "J-Los" (Jennifer Lopez-looking women) which included their ultra super hot mom who also looked quite yummy in her tight designer jeans.
- A white trash mother with a two year old who told his mom to "FU_K You" twice before the mom pulled the kid into the rest room and whipped him until he was screaming.
- A man of about 22 who would be thrown off the bus for drinking before it even left the station.
- A woman who boarded the wrong bus requiring us to turn around and take her back to the station so she could get on the right bus making us 45 minutes late.
- A slew of average folk
- Two older men, to whom life had clearly been unkind, and who would walk very slowly to and from their seats at each bus stop, but the same speed as I was hiking when my foot pain was at its worst.

It was 20 minutes till boarding and so I decided to look my tickets over.

Now bus tickets aren't like plane tickets or other tickets that are actually helpful. Bus tickets look like they are giving you the information you need but they aren't. For example, my ticket said the following:

"Route 0516 - Departing Orlando 1:15pm, Arriving Savannah Georgia 7:15pm"

Now one might assume from this that it means that the trip will take approximately 6 hours, but one would be mistaken. First of all, there are 37 stops scheduled between these two cities and at each one of them, there is a stampede of nervous smokers who must depart the bus past your seat to get their tobacco fix in 2 minutes, and then bring a stench cloud of burned nicotine and body odor back through the bus past your seat again so they can await the next stop.

Also at each stop, those people lucky enough to have an empty seat next to them do all they can to send bad vibes to the new passengers to keep them from sitting next to them. I did this successfully for the first couple stops, but clearly I lost my mojo when a large Hawaiian fellow with double pinkeye and a moist sneeze chose my empty seat and the party was over.

Riding a bus allowed me to use a whole new slew of "never used before" conversation openers which I had been itching to try; things like:

- "So, how long have you been out and what were you in for?"
- "Are all 12 of those kids yours?"
- "Shouldn't you really have a bandage on that open wound that's oozing pus on the floor?"
- And many others.

When we finally boarded, the driver took a walk down the aisle giving a quick glance at each of the passengers and promptly kicked a young man off the bus who was drinking. These drivers were tough and clearly had seen it all. When she was confident that things were as ship shape as they were going to be, she sat down and pulled out of the station into downtown Orlando traffic- After about 20 minutes, a woman stood up and went to the driver and asked if this was the bus to Miami. It wasn't and so in the middle of traffic, the driver turned the bus around to return the lady back to the terminal. 30 minutes or so later, we departed again for I-95.

Oh, the two drunk construction workers who were mimicing the Spanish people and who would have been shot if concealed weapons were allowed in the terminal had missed their bus to Daytona Beach. Fortunately, they were not on MY bus. When informed of this, they began a loud verbal altercation among themselves and moved away from our boarding line. Mama "J-Lo" bid her daughters goodbye and fled the terminal. The young boy who told his mom the "F" word continued to scream on the bus until he hyperventilated himself to sleep. The two older gentlemen took seats behind me and were quite for the duration of the ride.

Ok, so my ticket said that I would be going from Orlando to Savannah and it appeared to indicate that I would be changing buses in Savannah. But that's not true. I actually had to change buses before Savannah. When I realized there was no rhyme or reason to the route, I was forced to ask several times at each stop where I was to stand and when and what bus I was to take. Fortunately, the Greyhound people understood their system and somehow I always made my destination.

At each of the "Po-Dunk" stops, some folks got on and some got off. Everyone smoked and so the insides of the buses, which were also sticky, carried a foul, everlasting odor which was a combination of smoke, body odor, butt and whatever food was dripping down the front of the kids that were on board that particular leg of the trip. It was really quite neopolitan in a way and a true cultural experience.

At several points along the way, the bus drivers had to yell at the riders for a variety of offenses such as cell phones that were too loud, blocking the aisles, talking too loud or general roudiness. You don't get this kind of excitement on a plane.

At my last stop in Whyteville, I waited for my final bus at the bus station/shed which served as the bus station office there. A truck driver was pulling past the bench where I was sitting, too close to an SUV and quickly ripped off the side view mirror in a shattering and dramatic display of falling vehicle glass. Being in the location I was, the truck driver saw no reason to stop for this paltry inconvenience. and quickly fled the scene. The SUV it turns out, was owned by the single Greyhound employee who was feverously checking in people's luggage. When he realized it was his SUV, he flew out of the building screaming profanities but the truck driver was long gone. A thick-necked highway patrol officer responded to his complaint call a half hour later and filed a report. Only a pile of broken mirror and window glass was left on the ground to tell the story.

My final bus in Whytville arrived about an hour late. Despite the lateness, the cranky driver got out of the bus, help up her hand and stated that the bus was going to sit there for half an hour before departing, despite its already being an hour late. The driver hauled her very large driver ass into the nearby McDonalds to fill up her face and chat on the phone while I waited outside with the other riders. Before she left the bus, she warned some young hoodlums that the next time she has to tell them to get their feet out of the aisle, she was going to have the police remove them from the bus.

So there you have it - 20 hours to get from Orlando to Damascus for $118 including the shuttle versus $240 to get there in a few hours via plane and shuttle.

While the trip was certainly 20 hours of hell, it was surely more entertaining than the crabby flight attendants of US Air would have been.

You really should try it - Go Greyhound and leave the driving to them!

MuddyShoes

I am a hiker - once again...

Ah, the feeling...

I was picked up from the Greyhound station in Bristol, Tennessee this morning, by Dave, the founder of the famous Mount Roger's Outfitter in Damascus. He was to give me a shuttle back to Damascus so I could get back on the trail and finish my thru-hike.

He was the first long distance hiker I had seen in over a week, as far as I knew. You keep an eye out for these things much like people who buy a new car are always on the lookout for others who own the same make and model so they can give them a little "high sign" or wave of some kind. I don't remember seeing anyone in Orlando this past week that I would think was a long distance hiker, but I don't know for sure. I had shed blood in the woods, I had cried in the woods, I had slept there, prepared my meals there and even took regular shits in the woods. I longed this past week for conversation about the experience but found no one. So when Dave showed up with his long beard, khaki shorts, Chacos and an outdoor's tan, I felt like I was finally getting back into my element.

The ride to Damascus ran across familiar ground that I had traversed over the past few weeks a couple times since Trail Days last month. When we approached the turnoff to the main downtown area and passed the 'red caboose' I knew we were almost there. Dave pulled into Mount Rogers Outfitter parking lot where I got out, took a breath, turned a 360 to see the mountains that I had been missing all week and then dipped inside the shop to pay my $40 shuttle fee.

I passed through the shop to get a few things I needed...little convenient rolls of hiker-sized toilet paper, a couple packets of electrolyte powder to keep my heart from stopping during any long climbs and a visor. The hat I had been wearing was retaining way too much heat as the summer sun was definitely here. I looked around at the gear again but left confidentally knowing I had everything I needed save a lighter and smaller tent which would save me three pounds of carry weight.

When I walked outside, I felt the heat...it was Florida heat, muggy, hot, bright and tomorrow I was going to strap my full pack on for the first time in 2 weeks and sweat my ass off...literally. But I was 'home' so to speak. I stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat from my brow, shift my bag of goodies to my other hand and plod down the street to the Hiker's Inn where my pack had been waiting for me all week.

I grinned a little - one of the few times since I had gotten into Damascus, as I thought.. Finally... I am a hiker, once again!

MuddyShoes

My friend...the Grampus...

So you've been in your tent all night listening to the rain tap on the outside of your rain fly. You check the sides and bottom of your tent now and then to make sure there isn't any rain pouring in. You have to do this by 'feel' since you can't actually see anything unless you turn you headlamp on. And at some point in the morning, the rain subsides, you realize you aren't going to drown or succumb to a flash of killer lightning and you fall asleep.

As the birds begin their chirping around 5:30AM, you awaken gently to the realization that you aren't home, you are in your tent on the A.T. and you now have a soaking wet tent to pack. You'd love to sleep a little longer but realize you have a long day ahead. You roll over onto your back, twisting your sleeping back as you do and open your eyes to find about 15-20 4-5 inch long cigar shaped things on the outside of your tents netting. Then you notice that these things are moving and snapping these large claws on their heads. Their bodies wriggle around and their legs propel them around the netting on your tent and you are sure they are trying to find some way to chew through, enter your ear canals and take control over your body.

You have met the "Grampus" or Hellgrammite.

These local things are relatives of the scorpion family and come out after rain storms, obviously to take control over the minds of hapless hikers who dared to camp on their feeding ground. These things actually turn into giant flies at some point, but not at this point. They are a favorite with fishermen who use them as bait.

But I'm from Florida and I've not seen these "minions of hell" before.

So you begin tapping your tent to get them off and just know that the mother of these beasts is standing outside your tent, 10 feet tall waiting to grab you around the neck with her giant snapping jaws, ending your hike right then and there. But after a bit, you get up the courage to pop outside, quickly gather your tent up, hopefully without any of these creatures, and get on your way.

Thus, that is one more bug you never would have met if you had not made this journey.

MuddyShoes

You can do this...

I don't know if any of you are actually inspired by my 'tales' or if you are instead, deterred from thinking about a journey like this. Overall, I have to say that it's been a positive experience with some challenging days thrown in for good measure.
I've lost about 25 pounds so far, which is to say, the hard way, but I feel much better physically, and that was one of my goals. Still, the climbs are challenging as are many of the aspects of doing this. But you can do this...almost anyone can, really. The key is to find some compelling reason why you should. You do have to want to do this, to say the least. But it has to be more than that.

Some people have asked if I am going through a mid-life crisis, if this was my red convertible and I always laughed a little when they asked. But after thinking about it, perhaps this trip is in part, out of my realization that I'm not 20 years old anymore. That doesn't mean I'm ready to join AARP, but it does mean that I need to start taking more of a notice of my health and physical condition.

You know when you visit a doctor and you have that big long questionnaire about all the diseases and ailments that you ever had? You have to check the "YES" or "NO" boxes and when you're young, you almost always check the "NO" boxes. But as you begin to get older in your 30s or 40s, you start finding that you are beginning to check some of the "YES" ones. And then, if you've ever helped a parent or older person fill out one of those forms, many times, there are more "YES"s checked than "NO"s. Well, the last couple doctors I went to, I started checking a couple of "YES"s and that's when I decided that it's time to really look at my health and find some way to get things back in order.

I've joined the "Y" before. I did really well when I went, I worked out hard, enjoyed the workout and felt better in the evening when I came home. But over time, started to miss appointments or go less often or find excuses to take more days off. I've tried to walk around the neighborhood or do any one of a dozen other exercises but quickly became bored just when I was starting to notice great improvements in my health. Some people at the health clubs will switch themselves into "Zombie" mode while they do their 45 minutes on the treadmill or bike, watching television if there's one there or read a book or listen to their MP3 player or do anything else to take their focus off of the exercise itself.

It's tough to stay motivated...especially, it was for me.

But this Appalachian Trail thing. Once you're out there, you are out there. You are out in a million-acre wilderness on a trail with your backpack. You hiked out there and you need to keep hiking if you want to get back home or you will just die of starvation or thirst and get eaten by the bears, possums, field mice or those other creatures that would have to be really hungry to eat you. But they would eat you, none the less, and that would be it. No, I wouldn't want to go that way, so the motivation is to get to the next town, or any of a million reasons. There really are plenty of reasons to stay motivated on the trail, you just need to look a little to find them.

So you aren't in great shape? I sure the heck wasn't, over 50 pounds overweight. I had never hiked or backpacked before. I camped, but my Jeep was always close by...along with my case of bottled water, bags of snacks and a radio. But this trail thing... You really don't have to do it in one year. In fact, most people do what's called "section hiking" where they hike a little different piece of the trail each year. This one couple has been hiking a piece of the trail every year for the past 35 years and now have less than 100 miles to go. They only go out for a week or two each year, but the thing is, they do it.

Section hiking allows you to experience the same wonderful terrain that I, and countless others get to see every day, and you don't have any problems with deadlines, or to push a certain distance every day. You just go at your own pace and experience some of the most beautiful wilderness this country has to offer. All you have to do is to commit yourself for a day, a weekend, a week, month or longer, if you want to. And, even then, you can stop or go farther at any time. It's not like work. ... Ok, sometimes it is, but not usually.

So far, I have written a good amount about the challenges I've faced, and not enough about the good times, granted. But I've been going through a tough transition from computer geek to mountain man. But each day, as I become more and more accustomed to the new environment which I call my "home" I become a bit more comfortable with the paces I'm putting myself through.

Already I have seen people in their 20s and many, many people in their 50s, 60s and even 70s out on the trail. That has been inspiring, to say the least. And granted at times, it's a bit disconcerting, as these older folks are way outpacing me.

At least so far.

So the truth is, if you have thought at least a bit about doing this, for a weekend, a week or longer, then check out the "Links" page of my website for countless resources which will give you a great idea of exactly what to expect along your journey.

It really is worth it...no matter how much time you choose to spend out here.

MuddyShoes

Transportation

One of the biggest things we take for granted in the 'civilized' world is the ability to get from place to place. We've becomed so accustomed to just getting in our steel boxes and driving from here to there that we don't even think twice about it. Forgot to get milk from the store? No problem, just pop in the steel box and drive for a few minutes to get what we need and get back home. Want to eat out or go shopping? Want to see a movie, take a walk around the city park (which of course we drive to) or maybe visit some friends? No worries... just pop in the box o' steel and drive there.

On the trail, granted, we use our feet for locomotion. For some crazy reason, this is by choice. When you're on the trail and you want to hit a restaurant...no problem. In about 3 days, you'll be walking near one, after you hitch-hike a few miles into town from the nearest road crossing. Of course, it won't be a restaurant you've ever heard of, more like "Bubba's Country Vittles and Pig Fat" which closes promptly at 3pm, so you better get walking quickly...they are closed this weekend because Bubba's helping the neighbor duct tape the rat holes in his double-wide.

Even when you are in town, the lack of wheels is a challenge and you are dependant upon the hostel/inn folks to shuttle you around if they even offer that service. This requires you to be ready on their schedule and if you forget something, like to pick up your mail drop at the post office while you were in town, you may have to stay an extra day or pay for a taxi to get you to the places you need to go.

The upshot, is that you become much better about planning your town stays and making sure you get your business taken care of when you are in town. This makes your use of discretionary time more efficient and ultimately, helps you to save money. I think I figured out that staying in town costs you about $1-$2 per hour including your stay and meals. That can add up very quickly.

When I came home this week and actually had my Jeep to drive again, it was strange sitting in the driver's seat. Well first, it was strange, because it was the first time that I sat in a driver's seat in almost three months. But it was also strange because as I was sitting there, I realized that I could drive anywhere in town I wanted to...whenever I wanted to. This was a strange feeling but was one that I liked. But also one that I learned not to get too comfortable with because I was to be heading back to the trail in a day or two.

I will be taking a Greyhound bus back to Bristol Tennessee and then getting a shuttle back to Damascus...on their schedule of course. And then, once back on the trail, it will be another four days before I reach "Bubba's Country Vittles and Pig Fat" restaurant. Well, that's if I can get a hitch into town, that is.

MuddyShoes

City Life versus Trail Life

I think everyone should walk at least part of the trail, or do some week or two-week or more long distance hike in which the bounties of excess of our daily lives are not so available. It will really serve to help each one of us appreciate a little bit more those things that we have.

On the trail, things are much simpler, our needs are much more basic and we tend to become more appreciative of the things we do have. I wanted to illustrate this a little bit and hopefully give folks some idea of what I'm talking about. Here are some comparisons of life in the city, versus life on the trail:

Stuff:

In civilization, we accumulate stuff for whatever reason, for decoration, because we like to collect, because it makes us feel better or maybe just because we got a good deal on it. We accumulate stuff and store it in closets, attics, storage sheds or sometimes we rent storage facilities and pay them monthly to hold our stuff. We may use it regularly or not, or may never use it until we dump it at a garage sale or thrift store.

On the trail, we have to carry everything, so we try to limit the things we carry to those things that serve at least two purposes and which we will use every day. A large mug will serve as a coffee cup, a bowl for oatmeal, a water-gatherer to collect water during the day. A small stuff sack will hold our clothes but will also serve as a pillow at night. Everything we have, we look at and evaluate carefully to see if we really need it, and if not, we give it away or send it home...to store in a closet, attic or shed :)

Food:

In civilization, we buy as much as we can in larger quantities so we can store the rest to eat later. The larger quantities we buy, often the better price we get on a particular item. We bring it home in multiple bags, store it in cabinets, the fridge, the freezer and eat it the same day or days, weeks or maybe months later.

On the trail, we try to only buy (or carry if mail drops are sent to us from home) quantities to last us for the duration of the next part of our hike. The food needs to represent a good balance of calories, protein and carbs to carry us for our long days of hiking. Ideally, when we are strolling into the next resupply point, we will have an empty or near empty food bag which means we've planned our food resupply properly. Sometimes we will carry an extra day of food for emergencies.

Water:

In civilization, we always know that a reliable water source is only feet away with clean, unpolluted (for the most part) fresh water. Or we may have purified spring or bottled water at a cool 40 degrees in our fridge or nearby water cooler. If we don't we can usually buy some wherever we are at a store, cafe or vending machine. We may flush our toilets often, let the hose run outside watering plants or maybe we'll leave it on accidentally or leave a faucet running inside a house. No big deal, just turn it off and hope that we didn't use too much and run up the water bill.

On the trail, our days or planned around where our next water source will be, which will either be a stream, a spring or maybe a stagnant pool of water teeming with mosquitoes, bugs or salamanders and a good amount of slime. We have to fill our water bottles or water bladders with this water and filter and/or purify it to make it safe to drink. In some cases, the water supply may be near non-existent requiring that we sit at a spot for a half hour or more scooping up drops at a time until we have enough to drink. In other places, especially during the hot summer months, there may be no water supply for many miles leaving us dehydrated. We may also have to carry a gallon of water or more a half mile or more back to camp before we can even purify and use it and sometimes, polluted water may carry diseases that we have not fully treated it against. Every drop is precious and we are careful to use all that we take.

Weather:

In civilization, we can watch the weather channel and get some idea of what the weather will be for the day. We can pick the apppropriate clothes out of our wardrobe and dress accordingly, taking an umbrella or suitable 'options.' We have our whole wardrobe to pick from and worse case scenario, we can just avoid the weather by careful walking outside, or by driving in our cars or staying under awnings or inside buildings until the weather becomes more suitable.

On the trail, we generally have a pair or shorts or two, a shirt or two, rain clothes and maybe a little clothing to provide warmth like gloves and a hat. But we have no weather channel and we must learn to read the clouds and temperature and the sun and try to anticipate the weather. Out in the woods we have no places to duck if a rainstorm starts. Sometimes we can hide under some large leafy trees or bushes but when those leaves become soaked, the rain falls. We are often caught by sudden storms, must traverse deep muddy paths of slush, dodge hail storms, lightning, freezing weather and whatever else mother nature throws at us. If we are not careful we could literally succumb to the temperatures as when our core body temperature becomes too hot or too cold, we start to lose touch with reality and can make some fatal decisions.

Friends:

In civilization we have a great deal of control over how we can interact or not interact with our friends. We have lots of people around us to choose from to be with. We can meet certain friends in certain places and other friends in other places. We can spend an hour or several days with our friends.

On the trail, you share a common bond with your fellow hikers and some of them do become close friends. In some cases your hiking styles might be similar to the point where you can spend a few days or even months walking together. In other cases those people with whom you might most want to walk, you won't be able to because of your hiking speed or schedules. And sometimes, those people who you least want to be around can 'glom' onto you for hundreds of miles and it's not like you can just go home to avoid them. But the toils of the everyday challenges make many hikers 'friends' by default.

Health:

In civilization, we can let ourselves 'go' and still function. We can live unhealthy lives for many years at a time and just cease activities that strain us until we are living quite sedentary lives. If something in our body breaks, we can get it fixed, hopefully, or make small changes to our routine to make that 'thing' stop hurting. Doctors can fix much of what's wrong with us and even if we can't walk 10 feet without being out of breath, we can still sit in a chair somewhere and make a living doing something.

On the trail, your getting from point "A" to point "B" requires your physical ability to not only traverse that distance, but to do so carrying 30-40 pounds on your back. And you must do this up and down hills, over rocks, roots, grassy terrain and the rare but occasional track beds of pine needles. You must do 12-15 miles a day and you must do this in a certain amount of time. This requires that you are eating a diet to support this acitivity every day and that you are hydrating yourself properly and that you do not have body parts that are hurting or broken. You must be extremely careful to ensure that your body is funtioning properly or it will just break down. If you have pains, you must address them, somehow, which many times just means taking Ibuprofin until the pain stops or use some other kind of 'band-aid" until you can get to a town and have it looked at.

And so...

These are just a few ways that civilization life differs from trail life. There are many others, but one thing I have experienced personally, is that living life on the trail has really given me a perspective and a greater appreciation for those things that I do have. I do fear a bit that when I am finished with my hike, I may succumb to the pure excess that civilized life has to offer and forget how thankful I am for these things. But I hope that each time I turn on a water faucet at home or in town, I will think about how important and valuable clean water is on the trail. I hope that when I open up a fridge to make a sandwich, that I will remember that on the trail, most of these things are not available. And mostly, I hope that I remember that when I am back in civilization, I should live each day as if I had to carry a heavy backpack up and down mountains and to keep my body healthy accordingly.

Muddyshoes

No Steer...

Apologies for the "A.T.-Speak" tone of this blog entry - It's mostly for those who have hiked through the Roan Mountain to 19-E section of Tennessee on the A.T.

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I was sad to have missed the Longhorn Steer on Hump Mountain this year. When I got to the top of little Hump, I saw them off in the distance about a half-mile away near the base of the hill, but I wasn't about to make the steep descent as lightning was hitting the balds. I pushed on to Hump Mountain, through the cow fence and followed the trail of giant steer patties looking all around but found no steer. I buried my Leki a good 8 inches into a couple of the fresh cow pies accidentally when I wasn't paying attention...those took a bit to clean off and flies followed me all the way down to 19E and to Mountain Harbor B&B where I could finally wash them off.

I didn't see any goats either after the ascent out of Overmountain Shelter area. The night before, we saw them up on the bald from the picnic table outside next to the barn but they were gone by morning. Almost every hiker ahead of me and behind me had some great shots and/or movies of the longhorn steer that seemed to approach them out of nowhere.

I'm getting on at Damascus again on Wednesday, about 35 miles from Gracen Highlands. I'm really hoping my luck with the ponies is much better there. I have some salt packets and a bag of baby carrots to appease them.

MuddyShoes

October 15

There isn't a thru-hiker on the A.T. anywhere or anytime that doesn't understand the significance of that date. It haunts us and for many, it overwhelms us. It is the cause of much of the pressure to press onward despite the aches and pains of our joints, bones and other body parts. Every decision to press onward or to stop early, to get up early or to walk for record miles on a given day is made with that date somewhere in our mind. It has caused people to stay 'true' on their target to finish their hike and for others it has made them hike beyond their body's limits resulting in sprains, broken bones, fractures, 'blown' knees and on and on.

October 15 is the advertised date when Baxter State Park stops hikers/climbers from making the ascent of Kathadin, the final 5 miles of the Appalachian Trail. In actuality, the park may close up to two weeks earlier or perhaps even a little later. It all depends upon the weather, the rangers on duty, the parties attempting the climb and a little luck from God. The idea is that after about October 15, the weather can be severe enough to prevent a safe climb or to require a risky rescue should the climb turn badly, thus costing a huge amount of money and putting the safety of the rescuers at risk as well.

When many thru-hikers realize that they will not be able to finish their hike by October 15, they will do what's called "flip-flopping." This means that they will jump ahead at some point to complete the Kathadin climb, and then backtrack or get back on the trail where they got off. While this will still allow a hiker to finish his thru-hike in one season, it provides for a very anti-climactic finish to a 2,100 mile trek by ending in a small po-dunk town. For myself personally, I can't visualize myself getting my picture taken at the Kathadin sign with a smile knowing that I had hundreds of miles left to hike somewhere south of here. But as I go along, that is become less of an issue.

Another alternative is to wait until after the first of November when the park reopens for winter hiking, but you must get a permit and make the ascent with a party of four or more experienced winter hikers. While I don't know how I could work this out, at least it's an option to explore as the time draws near.

But in the mean time, October 15 continues to haunt old and new hikers alike...at least those people who haven't yet reconciled their psychological need to finish a thru-hike. I'm not sure where I stand yet, so for now, it's just one day at a time.

MuddyShoes

Onward!!!

Ah... 10 days off. A welcomed retreat. A chance for my body parts to heal, to visit home for a week in Orlando to see my wife and friends and family. A week of good nutrition, advice from trainers at the "Y" and blessings from doctors that nothing is broken, permanently, anyway.

Coming back home was strange. Even after only two and a half months, it felt strange being back in the city surrounded by so much cement, traffic and people who were all focused on different things. I feel like I don't belong here and now eagerly await the chance to return to my journey in Virginia.

This is good.

I was a bit afraid of returning home, thinking that I might not want to go back. I even left my pack and gear in Virginia with instructions NOT to return them home. But even in Virginia, I never felt like I wouldn't want to return, even when I was hobbling down the trail, soaked to the bone from rain and even on the verge of hypothermia.

After two and a half months, the trail has gotten into my blood. It is challenging and daunting at times, but it is a place of refuge, a place where I can be alone or with others who are of like mind. It's a place to communicate and share with other hikers or simply to be alone for a while. It is a place where I can be myself and laugh or cry, or simply ponder things for a bit. I've been gone for about 6 days now and miss the trail.

Within hours of arriving back home in Orlando, I grabbed my DVD of "TREK," a video documentary of some A.T. hikers who made a movie of their experience. When the video started, I watched them walk with their packs and instantly shed a tear. I'm not sure why, exactly, but think it was because I was already missing that path of dirt and stone, of roots and leaves and of pain and joy.

There is no question now whether I will be returning to the trail. I have Mount Rogers area of Virginia coming up, and White Top mountain, the wild ponies at the Gracen Highlands and so many more things to see and experience. I have some new tools to take with me on the trail, and some more knowledge. And I know that my pains, while enough to slow me down, are not stopping me.

When I look in the mirror now, I don't see a lost computer guru with no direction. I see a scruffy, wild-haired mountain man with a goal and desire to press northward to Maine. I don't know if I will reach the summit of Kathadin this year or perhaps spring of next, but one thing is for sure...there are many miles to go before I sleep.

Muddyshoes - GA --> ME, 2006

Sore Feet

I've been walking around like Fred Sanford again today.

When you walk on the trail, day after day there is usually some regular soreness, but after about a half hour or so, you get into your routine and don't think too much of it. At least you try not to think too much about it. Ibuprofin helps a lot there.

But when you take a day or two off, that is when you really begin to feel it. Whatever defense mechanisms your body has used to stave off pain while hiking shut down and you feel everything. Even on a day 'off' the trail, the pains start to subside after walking around a bit... it's just that first half hour or so getting up when you feel it.

Guess that's my penance for years of slothy and lazy living.

Ron

Smoking on the trail...

One thing that has surprised me on the trail is just how many hikers smoke. One of the hikers I've met is 70 years old and he smokes like a smokestack. He thru-hiked the A.T. 10 years ago and is thru-hiking again. And yet, despite having a cigarette in his maw every time I see him, he still outhikes me mile for mile.

I just don't get it...

It's a trail - but it's so much more...

It's a damn path of dirt and rocks. It goes up and then down again. It travels through the misty forests and then on top of tree-less 'balds.' It gets rained on, baked by the sun and is strewn with rocks and roots of all shapes and sizes. It is lifeless, and yet it is alive. And it sits there day after day getting walked upon by creatures of all kinds only changing as those who tread upon it change it. But despite how seemingly lifeless this path is...it changes people.

It can take young child and fill him with wonderment and inspire him to spend his life playing in the wilderness. It can take a woman who has lived a suppressed life and show her the way to a life full of courage and self-respect. It can take an old man hardened by a difficult life and help him find sanity in a world that seems anything but sane. And it can take a "40-ish" computer geek and turn his life upside down. And that's only after 9 weeks.

The "Trail" is a mirror and one's experiences, for better or worse, reflect the individual's state of mind. One who sees the trail as an endless trail of mystery and wonderment is one who has learned to embrace this philosophy in his life. One who sees the trail as an endless string of challenges and disappointments probably perceives his world the same way. And one who walks the trail and learns nothing, probably had little ambition in the first place.

But those who gain most from the trail, in my limited perspective thus far, are the ones who dare to change their life's perspectives and become different in some way, to become better or to choose a better life for themselves. Indeed this is what I'm trying to do for myself and I must tell you it scares the hell out of me. But somehow, I find the courage to plod on knowing, or at least believing at this point, that this change, this epiphony lies somewhere up the trail.

As I mentioned in a previous blog entry that part of me is scared to death that I might struggle and fight every step of the way only to find that there is no epiphony to be found, no great lesson to be learned and so my trip will have been for naught. But another part of me has faith that this epiphony is lying in wait, somewhere inside me waiting for that flowered hillside, or mountain-filled vista or the right animal to come out.

I really hope that's the case.

The trail is a path of dirt and rocks and roots. But alas, it is so much more.