backpack

Vandalism

/ jim fetig / 2 Comments

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A certain number of our fellow countrymen/women don’t like rules and they don’t hesitate to demonstrate their viewpoint.  The AT is far from pristine throughout the 700 miles I’ve hiked so far. 

The A.T. Journey’s magazine recently chronicled the growing graffiti problem.   The story is spot on.  Most every shelter is covered in it.  Of interest, almost all of the graffiti dates no earlier than 2010.  Since then, every year is amply represented. It makes one wonder what change caused such an explosion of orgasmic ego expression.  Did fracking fluid enter the water supply?

Hint to the young folks who do this – and you can tell.  It’s not flattering to you or your generation. 

Trash is another problem.  The Carter Gap shelter and the grounds around it in North Carolina where my most excellent bear experience occurred was full of empty food containers.  My theory is that the bear hangs out there because he can score tasty treats the campers leave behind.

To be fair, not all the trash is left by long distance hikers.  Hunters and weekenders probably account for most of it.  How do I think I know that?  Well, it’s the cans and other detritus one finds which have included frying pans and coffee pots – not the stuff 2,000 miler wanna bees routinely hump, especially after a couple of hundred miles.  I’ve also found spent ammunition in and around the shelters as well as on the trail.  This, in spite of the hunting ban on and in proximity to the AT.

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Property damage also is prevalent in some areas.  This is from that part of Tennessee where the AT right of way was taken by eminent domain.  Every night I was in the area, hunters passed through in their ATVs using the trail itself as their primary right of way.

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There’s a lot of trash in this photo taken on the night the temp dipped to zero at Ice Water Springs in the Smokies in early November.  Too much of it stayed put in the shelter.  I tried to gently shame the young Southbounders who left it into carrying it out when they decided to backtrack into Gatlinburg to duck the weather.  They politely let me know where they wanted me to stick it.

Three things – erosion, trash and overgrowth – are serious threats to the AT.  Any one of them could destroy the experience. Clearly Leave No Trace could use a few more evangelists. 

For those who are following, my hike should resume in about 10 days.  I’m almost done with the aftermath of my mother’s passing, my taxes are filed and I now have a Medicare card.  The National Weather Service reports about 18 inches of snow with deeper drifts at altitude.  Here’s hoping that it’s warming enough to melt a bunch of that snow by the time I can get back out. 

The next stretch will be a treat.  There’s Woods Hole hostel, the Dragon’s Tooth, McAfee Knob, and the Priest, plus a few other chunks of trail candy.  Best of all, several friends who live along the way plan to meet me.  Baring another nor’easter, t should take about a month to reach Waynesboro where one of my high school classmates lives.  Can’t wait to see him.

Sisu – Makin’ tracks.

Worst Case Scenario

/ jim fetig / 7 Comments
Winter Wonderland

Winter Wonderland

The range of winter weather in the southern Appalachian Trail and mountains ranges from pleasantly mild to bitter cold with heavy snow.

The Great Smoky Mountain National Park is both noted as the home of the highest peak east of the Mississippi (Clingman’s Dome – 6,643 ft.) but probably more so for its terrible winter weather.  Just this week a group of ill-prepared hikers required rescue from the cold and snow. http://www.weather.com/video/hikers-rescued-in-snowstorm-42994?

With facts like these in mind, I re-evaluated my winter kit over the holidays.

When I left the trail to celebrate Christmas with my family, my basic sleeping system, due to my distance runner’s stature, was based on a woman’s Sierra Designs woman’s dry down 25 degree bag supplemented by “puffy” down booties, pants and two down jackets sized to fit inside one another.

I am a warm sleeper and reasoned that the sleeping bag was good to at least 20 degrees F in my case.  With the booties, pants and jackets I figured that I could get to -10 F comfortably.  A zero degree night of borderline comfort proved me wrong.

So, I resurrected my zero degree 70’s vintage, but weighty, Holubar sleeping bag .  Holubar was bought by North Face decades ago, for the record.

Please don’t misunderstand.  I adore winter hiking and camping.  To be redundant, it’s unique and there’s nothing like it.  To be selfish, this week I spent four days on the AT and guess how many other hikers I saw?  Zero!  The AT was mine alone for that time.  Not a human track anywhere.

I enjoy company on the trail, but those who have thru hiked during the crowded traditional hiker season may appreciate what it means to have the trail and the woods, not to mention every shelter and privy all to one’s self.  It’s an amazing experience and privileged access to a treasured public accommodation not to be lightly dismissed.

When I hit the trail on Tuesday, I knew that the weather forecast for Thursday and Friday was ominous. As I ‘misunderstood’ it, the chance of rain on Thursday was 40 percent with an 80 percent chance of snow on Friday.  The bottom was supposed to drop out of the thermometer Friday night.  I was only slightly off.

Knowing it “might” rain on Thursday, January 2, I prepared appropriately.  When I bounded away from Thomas Knob Shelter, I was ‘armored up’ in rain gear including waterproof mitten shells and my new (and third) pack cover was battened down with a cat 5 hurricane in mind.

What foresight, if I do say so myself.  Ever seen a cow urinate on a flat rock?  That’s how the rain let loose about five steps after I jumped out of the shelter door!

Bam!!! I was swimming in the soup.  The volume varied, but the precipitation didn’t let up all day as my boots squished steadily southward across White Top Mountain in the direction of Damascus. The going was slow.

Here’s the good news and bad news.  First the bad.  The temperature all day hovered around 32 degrees.  The ground remained frozen. As proof, I nearly crashed and burned crossing a gravel parking lot glazed with a hidden layer of slick black ice.  On the positive side, my rain gear and base layer did their jobs.  I arrived in camp in very good shape considering.

I had hoped for a 24 mile day.  If I could do that, I’d be in Damascus by noon Friday and home Friday evening.  That was not to be.  Oh well, flexibility is a key to happy hiking.

At 4:30 p.m. I made Lost Mountain Shelter.  The temp was dropping and the rain was just beginning to mix with snow.  With my quota still six miles away, I realized that I’d be night hiking yet again.  This time with early darkness caused by the cloud cover, it would mean almost three murky hours in sleet and snow.

The decision to stop for the night was a no-brainer.  I was fatigued from the previous two tough days.  Given the day’s rain volume, who knows how heavy the snow might become.  Headlamps penetrate snow no better than car headlights see through fog.  The trail bed was icy in spots.  Check dams can form frozen skating rinks in winter.  Not safe.  Time to check my ambition at the door and brake for sanity.

Good decision.  The shelter was clean and in good repair with convenient amenities thanks to the local trail club volunteers. The spring and privy were handy.  The setting was aesthetically pleasing.  It doesn’t get better than that on the AT.

It also was nice to have extra time to settle in.  I wouldn’t have to cook or set up my bedroll by headlamp.  As the curtain of darkness smothered the landscape, my appetite was satiated and I rolled into my sleeping bag. It was around 6 p.m.  Hiker midnight is a relative condition… set at any time you want if you’re solo.

Since the previous two nights bottomed out in the low 20s, I expected the trend to continue because my understanding was that the super cold would arrive overnight on Friday.  By then I could now anticipate being comfortably ensconced once again at Crazy Larry’s.  Accordingly I chose to wear fewer layers and not don my down pants or booties.  I did, as I habitually do, tuck into bed with me a liter of water, a butane canister and a pair of mittens.  Since it was time to change socks, I put on fresh liners and socks.

I fell asleep almost immediately.  When I winked out, rain drops were still tapping the shelter’s tin roof.  In time nature called.  Without glasses I glanced at my watch.  I thought it read 5:30 a.m.  I felt like I’d slept through the night.  That would be a record.  As I parked my glasses on my nose to confirm the time, I realized it was only 9:30 p.m.  Oops!

The weather was calm.  The rain had stopped.  Not much snow was falling.  The temperature was moderate.  I plugged in my iPod to a vintage radio playlist and drifted off to an episode of “Richard Diamond, Private Detective.”

Ever imagined what sleeping next to a thousand-car freight train at full speed sounds like?  That thought jerked me awake around 11:15 p.m. as the wind howled and trees cracked and groaned.  Thank you Benton MacKaye for imagining shelters built like military bunkers.

The snow was swirling like icy diamond dust as it sprinkled my face with surrealistic pin pricks.  I cinched down the opening to my sleeping bag to the size of  grapefruit.  My nose was colder than I could remember it being for a long time, yet my body was toasty.  Back to sleep.

The wind kept blasting away.  Falling branches and trees served as multiple alarm clocks trough the night.  My exposed nose-o-meter sensed remarkably lower temperatures.  What layers should I wear tomorrow if this continues, I worried?  That the next day’s destination, 18.5 miles away, was Damascus was the saving grace.  With that in mind, I reasoned I could gut through most anything.

A sudden silence awakened me around 5:30 a.m.  The driving wind stopped like Mother Nature flipped a switch.  Check.  The front moved on.  One problem solved.  Extreme wind chill was out of the wardrobe and safety equation.  Amen!

Knowing I had big miles to go, I was up and moving well before six.  As I stumbled to the privy in rock hard boots, the light powdery snow squeaked and crunched.  Oh oh.  It’s colder than I thought.  Snow doesn’t make that sound unless it’s 10 F or colder.

The thermometer on my pack read -15 F.  The bottom had fallen out a day earlier than I expected.  In spite of all that, I was comfortable through the night without the benefit of my full kit.  The added tonnage on my back paid its dividend.

Think about it.  At 4:30 p.m. the previous evening, the rain had soaked all my exposed equipment.  My pack straps, nylon webbing, including my trekking poles, had been thoroughly dunked.  How about my rain jacket and rain cover?  Oh boy!

I’d hung my gear up in hopes that dripping and some evaporation would occur before everything froze.  As every professional manager knows, hope is not a method.  By morning everything was crunchy to say the least.  What an understatement.

This is the worst case scenario that I have seriously worried about since contemplating a thru hike.   What happens when hikers get soaked right before the temperature crashes to a dangerous level?  At -15 F, skin freezes on contact with any material that rapidly conducts heat.  Frostbite and hypothermia are clear and present dangers.  You can be serious trouble before you even know it.

Fortunately I have profited from previous soakings.  In those cases, luckily timed town stops saved my bacon as I slopped thoroughly waterlogged beyond imagination into Erwin, Tenn. and Damascus, Va.  This time, the cargo compartment of my pack was dry inside and out.  The base layer I was wearing dried out because it was only damp with sweat.  The waterproof mitten shells worked.  For redundancy’s sake, back up gloves, mittens, socks and a base layer were in the ready rack if need be.

When it is seriously cold, everything takes at least twice as long.  After unzipping my sleeping bag, I slipped on my glove liners; then my mittens.  You never want bare skin to touch anything.  When I needed dexterity to stuff cargo sacks or manipulate zippers and the like, I took off the mittens.  When the task was complete I jammed my hands back into the mittens until they warmed up again.  Only then did I attempt the next task.

The valve on my NeoAir was frozen shut.  Why not?  Breath is full of water vapor.  Only bare hands could wrench it open.  That smarted.

Once the pack was set, the real adventure unfolded.  Everything that had been exposed to rain was stiff and solid.  Think of a pack harness forged of wrought iron.  Board-like straps didn’t slide in buckles.  The frozen-solid rain jacket stood up by itself.  The straps on my trekking poles which had been hung on a peg resembled rabbit ears…

Fortunately, I always loosen the laces on my boots before bed.  If I had known just how cold it would get, I would have put them inside my sleeping bag.  Thanks to the thick dry socks, my feet never got cold in spite of wearing icy boots.  Walking saved the day.  Gaiters kept the snow off my socks and out of my boots.

The snap, crackle and pop sounds of Rice Crispies echoed off the walls as I struggled into my gear. Had you been there, you would have had to pardon my occasional “french” expletives.

The shelter faded behind me around 8:30 a.m.  Not bad considering.  As the day unfolded, body heat thawed the equipment, the straps loosened, and everything ultimately began to fit properly.

The day’s high hovered around 5 above.  My water bottle even got slushy inside my jacket.  That NEVER happened at -20 in northern Minnesota!  I had different and a heavier outer layer then which may account for the difference.

The day and trail itself were awesome.  Brilliant sun reflected off a snow frosted landscape.  The tracks on the pristine path read like a story book with Br’er Rabbit and his pals eluding foxes and bobcats.  Wild boar and deer made their separate grocery shopping trips.  Guess what?  No bear tracks.  That was a surprise.

I’m home now in preparation to fly with my daughter to Colorado on family matters.  I can’t wait to get back on the trail.  As for future weather? We’ll see.

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Winter Tips

/ jim fetig / 13 Comments

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Two members of the class of ’14 contacted me privately to ask about hiking in winter temperatures and conditions.  One recommend that I publish what I’d shared with him.  Needless to say, I was reluctant.  The information is generally well known, and is readily available elsewhere. 

I thought about it during the last leg of my hike and eventually, decided to share it for what it may be worth to others.  When I was in the Army, I taught winter operations and  survival for a time.  Since this knowledge has paid dividends on my hike thus far, I thought there might be a benefit to sharing it.

Obviously, my musings are not comprehensive.  Others may feel free to add their two cents as appropriate.  If you do, please keep it civil.  Dear trolls out there, neither you nor I are idiots. 

The good news is that winters tend to be mild in the southern Appalachians with notable exceptions.  Even when the weather turns bad, it doesn’t often last long.  That said, the recent five-day nor’ easter in early December brought a load of moisture to the mountains.  Fortunately only the last day of the storm was cold.  Otherwise, we might have experienced several feet of snow, so it pays to be prepared. 

Where to start?  In my view, the most important winter concepts are layering and moisture management.

The key to staying comfortable when it’ cold is layers and staying as dry as possible.  Modern poly prop and other wicking fibers are game changers in helping your skin stay dry.  Note I said comfortable, not necessarily toasty warm – a relative concept that changes with each individual’s tolerance. 

You absolutely don’t want to be hot and sweaty all the time.  If you are, not only is dehydration likely, you’ll rapidly chill when you stop moving.  Moreover, all the wet stuff will eventually need drying.

On top I’m using a Columbia Onmi Heat base layer (it’s got Mylar dots that reflect heat back — and it works) with three additional light layers that can be added or subtracted accordingly. For the outer layer I have a light weight nylon wind jacket backed up by my rain parka which has pit zips, a wind collar and hood.  Most times I don’t need more than one or maybe two light layers so long as I’m moving. 

My rule of thumb is that less clothing is more so long as it helps keep your core at the right temperature and your skin as dry as possible.  In my experience, most people put on way more clothing than they need.

Once I stop, I usually don’t have to take off the base layer.  It is normally only wet in the back and seems to dry quickly on its own under the other loose layers I put on when I stop.  There have been exceptions to this practice, of course.  When the day is over, I change into a large fleece shirt, a loose fitting hiking shirt, plus one or both of my down puffy parkas, down pants and the fleece cap in which I sleep. 

On the bottom I hike in bike shorts and compression running tights alone or under a water repellant pair of Columbia camping pants.  My rain pants go over this or substitute for the camping pants as needed.  That’s potentially three layers – more than enough to take you well below zero in a stiff wind in my experience.

Head, hands and feet are the key to real comfort and mental comportment. 

For my head, I carry a fleece ear band which keeps my ears warm while allowing the heat to vent from exertion without wet hair.  I also have a polly prop knit hat I used for cross country skiing.  It can go on over the ear band or replace it. Since I wear glasses, I have a Gore Tex bill cap to keep the rain/snow off the lenses.

I clomp around in Salomon Gore Tex boots with medium weight smart wool socks (I carry three pairs) with sock liners.  I start each day with a dry pair of socks.  I also take off my damp socks and put on dry ones as soon as I stop for the evening to help keep my feet warm.  The damp socks and liners go in between my sleeping bag and air mattress at night.  They’ve always been dry in the morning.

For my hands, I carry two pair of light polly prop glove liners so that one pair is always dry.  I also have a pair of polar tec gloves and a pair of heavy mittens with a waterproof Gore Tex shell.  I didn’t have the mittens in the Smokies when the ambient air temp hit zero F and paid a price for their absence.  Mittens are absolutely the key to warmer hands.  I’ve added chemical hand warmers and used them once.  They work well enough.

At night I almost always sleep in a tent (Big Agnes Fly Creek UL2) unless I think it’s going to storm.  The tent blocks the wind and is about 10 degrees warmer than an open shelter. 

My bag is a woman’s Sierra Designs Dry Down rated to 25 degrees F.  My guess is that a male would be comfortable about five degrees cooler.  As I wrote in my previous blog, I’m exchanging the sleeping bag for my 1970’s Holubar zero degree model in which I have more confidence at lower temperatures.  

At night any wet clothing – usually socks or the base layer – goes between my sleeping bag and air mattress (Themarest NeoAir).  Everything’s dry by morning.  If I think that the temp will drop below freezing, I always put my water and fuel canister in the bag with me or they’ll freeze.  If they do, I’m screwed.  Note to self:  Screw the water bottle cap on tightly so it doesn’t leak!

On seriously cold days – 20 degrees F or less – I hike with my water and fuel inside the inner pockets of my wind layer.  Butane lighters stay in pants pockets or they too will freeze.  Fortunately, the electric starter on my Jet Boil works.  This has magically turned the lighters into dead weight.

I’ve described every item of clothing I carry except my bandanas.  Almost all the clothing gets used every day.

BTW, in the rain, the objective is not necessarily to stay dry.  It’s to manage heat.  That’s one time when the wet base layer comes off quickly at the end of the day.  It’s usually soaked.

Here are some additional tips that may be helpful in preparing for a winter hike.

1.  Practice setting up your tent, operating all your zippers, hooks, snaps, buckles, stuff sacks and cooking with gloves on.  Modify your gear accordingly.  For example I’ve added extra long zipper pulls and replaced the miniature spring-loaded chord keepers with larger ones on some of my clothing.  I modified my tent with extended guy lines and oversize tension keepers so I can manipulate them with mittens on, and or tie the to rocks if the ground is frozen too hard for tent stakes. 

2. Quality backcountry clothing tends to have two distinguishing features.  The first is large inner pockets.  They are to keep, next to your body, water, fuel canisters and any other liquid (medicine) you need to keep from freezing.  You can store gloves, hats and mittens there too.  The other is pit zips.  Clothing designed for fashion tends not to feature these extras.

As I noted, when you’re out there hiking hard, dumping heat is a high priority.  During the recent storm in the Smokies, the pit zips on my wind shell remained open all day – the temps ranged from 18 – 22, the wind was moderate, and it was snowing.  I closed them only when the temps began to plummet and the wind picked up.  Meanwhile, I was comfortable and dry.  The zipper pulls have been modified with extra long pull chords so I can find, open and close them using gloves or mittens without taking off my pack. 

3.  When pitching your tent in snow, stomp down or scrape off an area big enough include your extended guy lines.  Make sure that your tent ventilates well or you’ll have to deal with frozen condensation in the morning.  Pack up quickly inside your tent.  Your body heat will create a thin moisture layer underneath that freezes quickly. To negate this, immediately when you get out, lift the tent off the ground so that the floor/footprint doesn’t freeze to the earth.   A couple of bloggers reported that problem last winter and their light weight nylon tent floors shredded when the tried to pick them up.  Of note, a Tyvek foot print won’t tear.

4.  I carry two 1-liter plastic bottles as canteens.  When water is plentiful, I only keep one filled.  Their key feature is a narrow mouth.  If they should freeze per chance, and mine started to in the Smokies because I didn’t pay attention soon enough, you can get a narrow mouth bottle open with your hands and punch down the ice plug that forms.  You have no prayer of opening a frozen wide-mouth bottle like a Nalgene if it freezes.  The threaded area is large and poses too much friction when frozen.

5.  You need to drink as much water in winter as you do in summer even if you don’t feel thirsty.  You lose a lot of water just by breathing alone, not to mention sweating.  By the time you’re thirsty, it’s too late.  Watch the color of your urine.  Pale yellow is optimum.  Urinating every two hours or so is about the right amount.  Be aware that urine the color of apple juice is trending the wrong way.

Dehydration helps bring on hypothermia much more quickly – as does exhaustion, alcohol use and smoking.  The combo can be like cotton – deadly.  A properly equipped hiker died of hypothermia in the Tri Corner Knob shelter in the Smokies this past winter.  Rangers I met on the trail told me that in addition to being cold, they theorized that he might have been tired and dehydrated.  Regardless, he suffered a tragic end. 

You can Google the incident for details.  http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2013/apr/18/national-park-releases-hikers-cause-of-death/?comments_id=2612673 

Here’s a report from the same area in  2012 that had a better ending:  http://www.wate.com/story/19985736/smokies-emergency-responders-search-for-missing-hiker

6. I keep a Gatoraide bottle in my tent for use as a pee bottle.  Does anyone really want to get up and go out into the hyper cold or driving rain at night?  If it’s below freezing, BE SURE AND SECURE THE CAP and put it in your sleeping bag so it doesn’t freeze. Ladies, this may be one male advantage that is hard to overcome.

Along this vein, I know of two NOBOs last year who had water bottle accidents that soaked their sleeping bags when their flip top bottles accidentally opened at night!  Word to the wise.

7.  I shave with a disposable razor every time I stop in town.  Beards may look cool, but in the winter they form icicles — and worse — snot-cicles because when its cold your nose runs constantly.  This does not include food.  The beard problem comes when the liquid in your beard melts and is absorbed by your clothing and sleeping bag at night.  Sooner or later you develop a moisture issue that can be problematic.   For me, it’s easier to scrape it off when I go to town.  Others obviously disagree.

8.  I have worn my MSR microspikes on three occasions to great advantage.  I could have managed to hike, albeit a lot more slowly, without them.  They’re are not a necessity.  But, their utility is such that I am willing to pay the weight tax to carry them.  I did carry snowshoes for awhile, but no longer.  A lot of the trail is unsuitable for their use – too rocky or too narrow.  As an alternative, I decided to hike around the weather.

Another reason I don’t think snowshoes are needed.  Look on the bright side, during NOBO season, some other eager beaver can always be first out of camp and punch the post holes through deep snow for everyone else.  When you’re solo, you’re on your own. 

The trail in winter is peaceful and almost surrealistic in its appearance.  With the right skills and gear, you can have a wonderful experience that is uniquely yours alone.

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600 Mile Gear Review

/ jim fetig / 2 Comments

PackNo two hikers are alike – in their experience, size, strength, comfort levels, ambition, motivation, fears, concerns and confidence level, and expectations. That’s part of what makes interesting the beast that an Appalachian Trail thru hike is.

After more than 600 miles, I thought a gear review might be in order. Remember that this experience has been mine alone. Your or anybody else’s reality could be very different.

First to recap. I hiked the 160 miles from Waynesboro, Va. (Rockfish Gap) to Harpers Ferry, WVa. starting Sept. 24th and finishing on Oct. 6th. During that period the daily high temperature ranged from 54 to 92 with about a week of each. The experience was instructive to say the least. I still can’t get the funk out of my sleeping bag.

On Oct. 24th I started hiking north from Springer Mountain, Ga. with 13 days off for Thanksgiving. My marker is now in Damascus where I left the trail for Christmas, New Years, income tax and to file for Medicare.

With so many people focused on starting early this spring, my hard learned lessons may be helpful to some.

Philosophically, I am not an ultralight hiker. I’m not a tank either. Ever mindful of weight, I carry what I need to be comfortable, warm and safe. Just understand that I am willing to pay a weight tax in the areas that are important to me – but may not be important to anyone else. My spring/fall pack with 1 liter of water and five days rations weighs around 26 lbs. My full winter weight clocks in between 32 and 34 lbs.

My pack itself is a Deuter Act lite 40 +10. That means that it’s basically a 40 liter pack with about 10 liters of expansion room. When I bought the pack, I thought that its size limitations would help impose some weight discipline. My catch phrase was: “If it don’t fit. It don’t go.” That’s been true, but if I were to do it over, I’d buy a 50 liter pack. Forty liters is very tight, but I have been able to make it work.

Deuter packs have a brilliantly adjustable suspension. I have the build of a marathoner – which makes it hard to find a pack that fits. Deuter’s infinitely adjustable suspension helps my pack fit like a pair of comfortable old slippers. That’s the reason I’m staying with it. I also like its ability to create compartments which help me stay organized. That’s where my love affair ends.

Deuter could improve all its packs tremendously with a few simple fixes. Watersealed seams and water resistant zippers would be more than helpful. This pack leaks like a sieve, even with a rain cover on. You listening Deuter? I really don’t like that.

The hip belt could use properly sized (meaning large) side pockets on both sides. The one pocket it does have is on the right and far too small. Worse, it is located in such a way that I can’t see its contents. The left side has space to attach something – heaven knows what. There are no after market products specifically designed for this pack that could stimulate my imagination that I can find. I made do with a zippered item I found at REI.

My sleep system works – barely. As a winter hiker I need to be prepared for ten below zero. I’m finding that zero is about the limit of real comfort. The system is based on a woman’s 25 degree dry down bag by Sierra Designs. My stature allows me to use a woman’s bag which saves about a pound of weight and $100 in cost. I really like the extra insulation they put in the area for your feet in a woman’s bag.

The bag is supplemented with a silk liner – mostly for the purpose of absorbing grime and managing drafts. The question is, What happens when the temp threatens to plummet below 25 degrees?

Since I can expect a huge range of temperatures on the trail during the winter, I have to have an adjustable clothing/sleeping system. To supplement both, I truck two puffy down jackets – one medium and one large so they fit inside one another. Then there’s the puffy down pants and booties. Combined, with clothing layers, I figured this system would easily get me to `10F.

Not so. The sleeping bag itself is made of light weight fabric. When stretched by water bottles and a butane fuel container, the bag develops cold spots when the temp nears zero. It hasn’t bothered me much, but I don’t like it. Moreover, the zipper snags both up and down because the fabric is so light. That’s not good.

When I return to the trail after the holidays, I’m switching to my 1970’s zero degree bag. It’s bigger and heavier, but it is absolutely bullet proof to zero. With the puffies added, it’ll take anything mother nature can throw at it, and I’ll be more confident.

My Thermarest NeoAir mattress is awesome!!! Can’t praise it enough. If I could marry it, it would. I’ll just sleep with it instead. 🙂

I switched from a Pocket Rocket stove to a Jet Boil Sol. Since I cook exclusively in Zip Lock freezer bags, that was the right move. The size increase was miniscule. The efficiency increase is remarkable and well worth it. With the Pocket Rocket, I used up a full size butane cartridge about every 10 days. With the Jet Boil, the mini cartridge lasted 18 days with fuel to spare.

I use a Zpacks food bag. It’s NOT waterproof. Moreover, it needed to be modified with an extra tiny snap link and some chord to make it easily hangable and operable with mittens. I’d buy it again. The size is about right for up to a week’s worth of food.

Speaking of modifications, I’ve had to modify about everything – tent, rain jacket, food bag, and pack – for winter and mittens. Try and operate everything you own with mittens on before you actually hike. You’ll be surprised.

My iPod and iPhone serve as communications and entertainment – the entertainment is mostly at night. Since lithium batteries suffer from cold, I carry three Mophies that will fully charge my iPhone a total of one time each, plus the charge in the phone itself. The priority is to the phone because I frequently text my wife and family where I am. I reserve one battery for my iPod which serves as evening entertainment. This arrangement usually works.

I keep the phone in airplane mode most of the time and a battery usually lasts a couple of days, if not more.

My rain gear – pants and jacket are traditional. They work. My jacket is a North Face with pit zips. It’s functional, but the chords that tighten the hood and waist are not designed to use with gloves or mittens. So much for the compromises necessary to honor North Face’s identity as a fashion brand.

My clothing is in a Sea to Summit compressible dry sack. I carry an extra base layer, plus a sleeping shirt, four layers, a sleeping hat and three pair of socks in addition to the aforementioned down gear.

That’s about it for equipment. I carry gloves and waterproof arctic mittens. My first aid kit services me and my equipment. My headlamp is a light weight single LED by Princeton Tec.

I also carry one charging cable and iPad charger for each battery and electronic device I carry. There are not enough outlets at the hostels. They’ve not caught up to the 21st century in that regard.

My return to the trail is indefinite. My mother is struggling with cancer. I may fly home to Colorado to be with her before continuing my hike.

I also plan to sneak in the Grayson highlands between Christmas and the New Year with the help of the kind folks at Mt. Rogers Outfitters who will shuttle me 60 miles north so I can hike back to my car in Damascus. Once past Grayson, altitude will be less of a weather factor.

Gizmos, Gadgets and Acquired Knowledge

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When you’re hiking day in and day out, your mind sometimes drifts to the whimsical.  Other times it’s strictly focused on not tripping, the next drinkable water or whether or not you can make the next shelter before dark.  Unfortunately, there’s much more of the later. 

The all too familiar scenario became: 3 p.m.  Dark at six.  Six to eight miles to go.  All up hill. 🙁 

Along the way, I had an idea.  Water weighs a pound per pint. In round numbers, that means two liters weigh slightly more than four lbs.  That’s a lot.  Fortunately, I learned to carry only a single liter when I got word that the water was good up ahead.

Still, I have a challenge for all my scientist friends at Georgia Tech.  What you geniuses need to invent is dehydrated water.  You know, open the bottle and just add air.  Air has the essential ingredients –  hydrogen and oxygen.  Certainly, someone could figure it out.  Sure would help a bunch of tired hikers!  Every hiker to whom I mentioned was certain that the scientist who invents dehydrated water would be canonized for sainthood!!!

As for the rest of the gizmos and gadgets, there’s good news and bad.  First, I used everything I brought in my pack from sewing kit to the Kindle.  Obviously, not everything in the first aid kit was used, but parts of it were.  The Kindle didn’t get used enough, so it’s stays home, as much because of the cold weather’s effect on batteries as anything else.

Lithium batteries are terrible in cold weather.  No way around that.  Even when kept in my front pocket, my phone/camera power level would dive from 100 percent to zero after a couple of minutes of exposure on cold days.  (It was in airplane mode.)  The same goes for spare storage batteries.

The best I could do was store the phone close to my body and the spare batteries deep within my clothing bag.  At night I put the phone and/or iPod under one armpit after diving into my sleeping bag, and the storage batteries under the other.  Once everything warmed, I could recharge or listen to the media stored within.

Cold is for lovers.  Everything wants to get in bed with you – that is your water bottles, your fuel canister, your electronic devices, extra batteries and your sweaty clothes.  I’ve never felt so loved in my life!

My Salomon GoreTex boots froze on a couple of nights because I had no room for them in my extra skinny light weight sleeping bag.  It wasn’t a big deal.  So long as I had dry socks, my feet were never cold, even in frozen boots.

Sweaty clothes.  Only once did I have to whip off a soaking shirt and replace it at the end of the day.  The polyprop shirts I had wicked dry in a very short time after I stopped hiking.  Usually I just covered my base layer with a couple of loose wind shirts I carry for layers.  Over them, snuggled my down puffy as needed.

I often hiked in a pair of compression tights that I use for running and cross country skiing.  They don’t hold water at all.  Best of all, they provide excellent support for leg muscles and joints.  At the end of the day, slipping my rain pants over them did the trick.  No problem wearing the whole giddy-up to bed.

In an earlier blog, I nominated the ziplock freezer bag to replace the Swiss Army knife as the universal tool.  Subsequently, Tenacious Tape gave its zippered brethren a run for their money. 

Somehow, a mouse got into my pack and ate a hole in the baffle between the lower and upper compartments enroute to building a nest.  My sleeping bag developed a hole on the inside.  Wondered why my tent was full of feathers in the mornings…  A three-seam corner in my tent leaked.  The stuff sack for my tent got a small rip. 

Tenacious Tape (and a little silicon sealer) to the rescue. By NOC I had used nearly a whole role of tape.  I bought two new ones from the outfitter at NOC just to play it safe.  Ladies and gentlemen, this stuff works.  It’s specially formulated to STICK to the light weight nylon used in our equipment.  Keep the AMEX card, I wouldn’t leave home without Tenacious Tape. 

Duct tape.  What’s that?

David “Awol” Miller’s guide is the gold standard.  It’s highly accurate, though not perfect.  I carried the AntiGravity Gear strip maps as a supplement.  Gave up on them quickly. 

The universal challenge with the AWOL Guide is reading the trail profile.  On days the trail looks easy, it’s hard in reality and visa versa.  A lot has to do, not with the trail incline angle, but the surface condition of the trail bed – how rocky, number of steps and boulders, roots, etc.  Just don’t be lulled into a false sense.

A lot of the trail infrastructure listed in the Awol Guide pops up during hiking season; then disappears by the end of April.  That was a tough one to learn.  Shuttlers, hiker rates, and other conveniences haven’t been there in some cases.  Also be advised that those listed in the Guide pay to be there.  (I asked.)  Nothing wrong with that, but caveat emptor. 

Saw evidence of a lot of bear bag hanging disasters in the form of ghostly and mossy derelict food bags tangled way up high. Alternatively, there’s ample evidence of cut ropes decorating prime hanging trees like nylon tinsel.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed.  So far, so good.  Just hang your food, please.

Speaking of food, since I’m cooking exclusively in ziplock bags, I switched my stove from a Pocket Rocket to the small Jet Boil Sol.  It’s incredibly more efficient at boiling water which is all I do.

Lastly, I tented most nights near shelters.  My tent was warmer and easier to keep my “stuff” organized and safe.  Unfortunately, at a shelter in the Smokies, three meals disappeared after I hung my food bag on the bear line.  At the same shelter someone rifled my pack when I was outside cooking and took three twenty dollar bills from deep within. Lesson learned.  I’ve since acquired a wallet that hangs around my neck.  $hit happens. 

BFRs. What are they good for?

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BFRs. Yup, Big Effing Rocks! What are they good for? In Appalachian Trail maintenance, most everything.

The Hoodlum work crew had another great weekend, our final regular outing until March.

The work group to which I was assigned built two check dams and a water bar on the Pass Mountain trail – a blue blaze trail in Shenandoah National Park.

This video offers a little bit of insight into the work we do and the fun we have doing the work and afterwards.

The water bar we are constructing in the video was much needed to help keep the trail in good hiking condition.

Hikers sometimes wish the trail was in better condition with fewer rocks and less erosion. Rest assured there are a ton of volunteers up and down the full length of the AT working had to keep it in the best condition possible.

If you think the rocks are bad now, imagine the AT without erosion control and other maintenance.

All erosion control structures require building material. Stone is best, but simple swales only require mounds of dirt. Logs, particularly extra hard woods such as Ash are long lasting substitutes when stone isn’t available.

If stone is preferred. Than BFRs are the best you can get.

Rock potentially lasts a lifetime. Moreover, if the stones used are ginormous enough and set deep into the trail tread, the bears have a hard time digging them up to get at the grubs that take up residence underneath. Yup, the bears love to play three card Monte with big rocks. Sometimes they even score a treat.

Chunking BFRs around is hard work with dependent mostly on brute force and ignorance. You really only need one smart person who knows where the rocks should go for best effect. That means I’m pretty much qualified be a rock technician, but not for the engineering jobs.

Erosion control structures on the AT come in a simple variety. Check dams are perpendicular to the trail with the purpose of slowing down the water flow. They should stick up a few inches and require frequently cleaning to ensure sediment doesn’t render them useless.

Water bars are set at a 45 degree angle to the trail direction. Their purpose is to direct water off the trail. Check dams and water bars frequently work in coordination with one another

Parallel drains are canals/ditches that run parallel to the trail tread for some distance until they reach a point where water can be sent away. Sometimes the trail tread is raised and the canals are made of carefully fitted stone.

Steps help prevent erosion or may simply improve the hiking experience by adding safety or by making the trail easier. Stone is preferable and more durable, but logs and compacted dirt or gravel work.

You’ve all seen the ladders and rebar in New England. Those are special cases.

Sometimes dirt swales are dug and the spoil is mounded and compacted to form a check dam or water bar that works fine as long as it lasts.

If you live close to Shenandoah National Park, consider joining the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club and channel your inner 12-year-old. Become a Hoodlum Trail Crew member. It’s fun!

Close Bear Encounters of the Third Kind

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Bear busted for shopping in store at Shenandoah National Park’s Skyland Resort.  He was a nice guy!

Psst!  Hey you…  Yah, you.  Wanna lose weight?  You do.  Guess what?  Hike for 13 days and 160 miles straight through on the AT without a zero and eat only what’s in your pack and YOU too can lose a pound per day.  I did.  Betcha!  One more hike like this and I might be willing to take my shirt off at the beach.

My first training hike is in the books.  Sept. 24th was day one.  I launched at 10:08 a.m. from Rockfish Gap, Va.  It was 55*F.  At 10:12 I saw three bears before I could even get off the road and into the park!  An auspicious beginning if ever there was.

By the time they get this far, 858 miles into their hike, most thru hikers can knock out the distance from Waynesboro, Va. to Harpers Ferry in about 10 – 11 days.  Since this was a test of my injured right foot, my gear, food, and much more, my pace was deliberately slower.

The first day was seven miles to the Calf Mountain shelter.  Most thru hikers would want to bang out more miles, but maybe not the 20 miles to the next shelter at Blackrock.  For those wanting to do more than seven, but less than 20, I counted 14 excellent stealth camping sites scattered between Calf Mountain and Blackrock.  The only caution is that  water is available only at the shelters.  Tank up at Calf Mountain and you’re good to go.

I set the first day deliberately short followed by two 13s in a row.  The schedule next called for rest following an eight mile NERO.  I reached my destination just after noon and cooled my heels until some great guys showed up to spend the evening.  Following that, the days averaged around 12 until I got word that the remnants of a tropical storm would clobber the trail on Monday Oct. 7.  Not wanting to ride out a tornado watch and a deluge in some shelter, I hiked three 15s and a 20 in order to finish a day earlier than planned.  Two weeks without rain – priceless!  Pushing that hard – ouch!!

My initial pack weight was very heavy on purpose. For example, I carried all the food and supplies needed for a full fortnight. I also lugged my full winter kit since that’s the heaviest weight scenario.  Other small things added up such as packing a full bottle of Dr. Bronner’s liquid soap.  

As time passed, the weather changed.  In the beginning morning temps hung in there around 40 with day time highs around 60 – 65.  This near perfect hiking weather shifted to sticky windless summer temps in the second week with the final day ending  above 90.  My sleeping bag smelled worse than my socks – and my socks smelled so bad they actually woke me up one night!  They got kicked out of the tent after that.

In spite of the weather, I managed to stay relatively clean.  I did laundry and shower at Lewis Mountain camp ground and again at Bears Den.  I washed my shirts out in streams a couple of times.  Twice I was alone at night and use the solitude as car wash moments.

Lessons learned?  You can bet I’ll never do that again.  When I finished I was still strong, but sore and beginning to notice some of the classic overuse injury symptoms.  For me, a zero is in order at least once per week. 

My initial pack weighed 37 lbs.  That’s at least 10 lbs. too heavy.  I’m glad I could manage it, but even as I ate the weight down, the dead weight on my back sapped my morale much more than I would have predicted. 

Most of the extra weight was food.  I had way too much in the beginning, so I gave some away.  Regardless, I still finished with two extra meals. 

I can also cut weight elsewhere.  My fist aid kit could treat a decimated army. It can be much smaller. A little Dr. Bronner’s goes a long way.  I’ll repackage it and other liquids and consumable supplies into week size portions. 

Beyond that, I’m chopping up David “Awol” Miller’s guide book into bite size chunks.  That thing is a brick.  Speaking of Awol’s AT Guide, it’s excellent, but as many in the class of 13 noted, the trail profile is hard to decipher.  When you think it’s going to be hard, it isn’t and visa versa.   Fortunately I had topo maps which don’t lie and never run out of batteries. 

What’s going on with Awol’s guide may have more to do with the trail surface than anything else.  The rocks make a difference.  If the rocks are difficult, the trail is hard in spite of its ascending or descending grade. Stay tuned for my rock classification post.   If you’ve never heard of a Susquehanna snot slicker, you will.

This is a family blog, so scatological discussions are not normally part of the genre.  However I did have one eureka moment.  You’re gonna use a lot more TP than you think.  When I needed to resupply, the store was out.  Table napkins are a most excellent replacement.  Never goin’ back if you know what I mean.

The special orthotics my podiatrist made saved me from the pure brutality the rocks inflict on your feet.  Excellent investment they were.

Last note.  Bears Den is a jewel of a hostel.  Dana and her husband are warm and welcoming hosts.  I wasn’t the only one who could not eat the entire hiker special – pizza, pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a soft drink.  Also, the guide doesn’t mention that you get to cook your own free pancakes for breakfast.  My trail crew will be at Bears Den Nov. 2 to help with some projects.  Can’t wait.

As soon as I get new boots, get my orthotics adjusted, a sleeping bag liner and a couple of other things.  I’ll be on my way from Harpers Ferry to Duncannon, Pa.

Sisu – Making tracks.

 

 

Slaying Vampires

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Gotta call it like I see it.  Ticks are vampires.  They engorge themselves with mammalian blood.  The redder, the better!

 Ticks aren’t picky.  They want blood, and don’t much care where they get it.  They love all 31 flavors.

 Worse yet, ticks are stealthy.  They hang out on tall grass, weeds and low hanging branches.  The idea is to score a passing Happy Meal in the form of a hapless mouse, squirrel, deer, bear or even the occasional hiker. 

Hikers must taste good ‘cause the ticks sure seem to like ‘em.  Unfortunately, they are too small to drive miniature wooden toothpicks through their evil little hearts.

Currently a research scientist funded by grants from the National Park Service and the Appalachian Trail Conservancy is thru hiking for the purpose of studying ticks.  He has reported in his trail journal that most hikers attachment to ticks seems to come from trailside vegetation, not the shelters where he has found few ticks.

 The Hoodlum maintenance crew gathers on the third Saturday of most months to groom hiking trails in the northern district of Shenandoah National Park. This trip tick habitat reduction was the mission of my work team.  That’s a fancy way of sayin’ weed whacking and pruning trailside trees and bushes. 

 Even if you’re a yard work klutz at home, you’ll really jump on this.  It may be more fun to saw blowdowns or build check dams, but anything done to reduce exposure to Lyme disease is all good. 

 So what do trail maintenance crews do after the equipment is cleaned at the end of a hot sweaty and buggy day?  Here’s the secret.  You don’t have to ring the dinner bell more than once! 

 The North District Hoodlums retire to the Indian Run maintenance hut where some camp overnight and most everyone shares in the potluck dinner, swaps stories and revels in party games until the stars brighten and the fire fades.

 The AT is a complex system with a rich culture.  Trail maintenance is done by thousands of volunteers from Georgia to Maine.  It is usually hard physical and dirty work.  Some of it is mundane.  All if it is necessary to keep the AT active and safe.  Best of all, it’s time well spent with fascinating people who share a common love for the Appalachian Trail.

For those who discover this blog in preparation for AT hiking, I hope this little bit of insight deepens your understanding of the behind the scenes work that helps improve the the trail and improves all of our odds for success.