What I’ve learned so far.

April 10, 2014 / jim fetig / 5 Comments

At the close of every combat operation or training exercise, Army leaders undertake an appraisal known as an After Action Review (AAR) to capture relevant lessons and informative experiences while the knowledge is fresh – both the right and wrong, as well as the bad and ugly. My first half AAR follows.

Thru hikers learn something new with almost every step. I came to realize and appreciate just how much I don’t know. Ignorance is sometimes bliss, but mostly not. The local history, weather, cosmos, biology and geology are deep subjects, and my knowledge of them only scratches the surface. Somehow, my thirst for knowledge seemed to grow by the mile.

As the depth of my own ignorance deepened, it also dawned on me that readers may have questions or topics which they might want me to explore. If so, fire away with your questions and suggestions. You are along for the ride after all.

About three weeks ago I began scratching notes in my notebook on subjects I thought might be informative for readers or useful for those attempting a long distance hike in the future. These observations are a product of my unique experience, capabilities and shortcomings. They may or may not be relevant to others. I just hope they’re worthwhile.

This post is going to be wordy and a bit inelegantly written, but I can’t think of a way to make so much info pretty. These are broad areas I intend to cover:

1. Logistics

2. Town visits and zeros

3. Equipment

4. Cold weather

5. Water

6. Cost

7. Hygiene

8. Electronics

1. Logistics:

When you factor out time off the trail for the holidays and my mother’s passing, but keep zero days, I’m right at 90 hiking days on the trail. That’s a very normal pace. I try to average 15 miles per day which generally means staying at every other shelter. When daylight was more limited, sometimes that was a hard bargain. Now it’s generally a fair day’s work with time to spare.

Logistics for for the first half are far more simple and I could imagine, even after closely following a couple dozen hikers day-by-day last year. The towns are easy to reach making both food and equipment resupply easy. Moreover, many people will go out of their way to help you if need be. You won’t always find exactly what you want, but you can find what you need to get by.

I walked off cycle meaning that much of the hiker support infrastructure wasn’t there – many shuttlers, hostels, restaurants, some outfitters and trail angels only operate during peak season which ranges from mid-February through April starting in the deep south with the dates sliding to the right on the calendar as the hiker “bubbles” migrate northward. Still, I had little trouble finding shuttles, places to stay, getting my laundry done, fuel and groceries at any point. David “Awol” Miller’s guide book is excellent and the phone numbers listed within are accurate.

Food is the heaviest item in most hiker’s packs, and I seemed always to have too much of it. That’s mostly because I didn’t trust the resupply system. In retrospect, I could have schlepped a lot less food and resupplied more often without slowing down one bit.

The average Dollar General, Kroger or other grocery has most everything with the exception of dehydrated hiker meals manufactured by companies like Mountain House. With that caveat, the remaining choices are more than serviceable. Ramen is ubiquitous. It became a staple that I fortified with spices, hot sauce and meat from other sources.

I didn’t start using mail drops until I reached central Virginia. I was unsure of resupply there, so I mailed food and other expendables to Woods Hole, my friend near Roanoke, and to Bluedogart. I’ll continue the practice of mailing directly to places where I’m going to stay. That way I don’t have to hunt for the post office or go grocery shopping. I do call in advance to see if they’re open and willing to accept a package; and let them know approximately when to expect me.

2. Town visits and zeros:

Some of this is individual preference and some is driven by social factors for hikers in season. Since I was solo and alone most of the time, hanging with anyone or any group wasn’t a consideration. I could hike or go to town on my own schedule without fear of hurting anyone’s feelings.

Hostels are as unique as their owners. Some cost more than others. Each is special. They’re hard to rate, but my favorites for the first half is a tie between Woods Hole near Pearisburg, Va. and Bears Den about a day-and-a-half hike south of Harpers Ferry. Each is unique and offers hikers a special high value experience.

Hostels are not hotels. Mostly they’re operated for love, not profit. Being solo offered me the opportunity to spend quality time with many of the owners. These are good folks who will take good care of you. Please take good care of them.

Stopping in town every five to seven days seemed about right. I needed to shower, do laundry, recharge my electronics, and buy groceries. To compensate for winter, I carried some emergency rations (chocolate bars and the like) to cover for unforeseen weather, but not enough to extend my range much.

I did learn that rest days were not required. In my case a hot shower and a soft bed was as good as an entire day off! Weather stops were another matter. On seven occasions I stayed in town at least one extra day to wait for severe weather to clear.

A good example of a wise weather zero is when I chose to spend a second night at Woods Hole Hostel. The forecast was for snow, 11 F ambient air temp, and wind gusts up to 50 mph. That howling night Mother Nature delivered on her promise. Meanwhile, I was inside, warm, dry and safe. The next day dawned with the weather improving, so I hiked out bright and early in a residual snow squall. By nightfall, the sun was shining.

These photos were taken on the same day, about 15 miles and 10 hours apart.

Another thing I learned was not to pig out on town food in spite of my worst instincts and deepest desires. Subsequent to the first couple of zeros, I waddled out of town stuffed with rich food like a Thanksgiving turkey crammed with oyster dressing. It generally took about three days to recover from the ensuing lethargy and bloating.

I learned that one hamburger was sufficient, and to eat only until full. For the second meal and beyond, I shifted my diet toward more nutritious green food – salads and the like. Did I mention I have a weak spot for onion rings?

It seems that hiker fare on the trail is low volume and high calorie. Unfortunately, too much of it is sugar. While town food is high volume, but lower in calories except for the beer maybe. The human gut has a hard time making the switch. It needs help from upstairs in self-control HQ.

3. Equipment:

The aphorism goes: You can have your equipment lightweight, sturdy or inexpensive. Pick two. It’s also a trail maxim to make three piles of gear – survival, nice to have and luxury. Pack everything in the survival pile and one thing from the luxury pile. Everything else stays behind. It’s all sage advice unless you’re okay with the weight of a blacksmith’s anvil on your back.

From the time my hike began until winter closed in, I developed three different packing schemes to cope with expected temperature ranges. One each for expected lows of 30F, 20F and 0F. The 30 degree set up weighs 26 lbs with five days food and 1 liter of water. The 20 degree weighs 32 lbs with the same food and water; while the zero degree kit slams the scales at 38 lbs complete with optional micro-spike crampons. Thirty eight pounds is a hard load to tote. There’s no spontaneous dancing on the trail for sure.

Two schemes involved my 40 liter Deuter ACT lite 40 + 10 pack (color red). The zero degree mash up required the purchase of a 65 liter Deuter ACT lite 65 + 10 pack (color blue). I chose Deuter because I’m short and their pack suspension system allows for infinite height adjustment. Deuter packs fit both short and tall people equally well. Really! The cargo compartment design also is ideal for the way I like to organize my gear. http://www.deuter.com/US/us/backpacking-trekking-120.html

The two packs have an identical suspension and cargo compartment design, the difference is that the blue one is larger. Regardless of which I used, the system for organizing my gear in my pack and when I made and broke camp, remained the same. Staying organized on the trail is a critical component of success.

Everything has a place, the same place every day. Call it SOP or Six Sigma. Process consistency pays.

First thing out is the last thing in. In my case it was a medium size Sea to Summit waterproof compression sack guarding my clothing. First thing out of that sack was a fleece hat followed by a fleece shirt, down jackets, pants, dry socks and booties. Once my body was going to remain warm, I could prepare to sleep and eat.

I also separated my sleeping gear and first aid kit from food, stove, personal hygiene items and clothing. Deuter packs have two inside compartments. The sleeping gear – bag, air matress, pee bottle and first aid kit – snuggled in the bottom compartment. Everything else jammed the upper one. Those items that might be needed on a moment’s notice – rain gear, waterproof pack cover, gaiters, TP, headlamp, and water canteen resided in the top or outside quick and easy access pockets. My tent was usually strapped outside whether I had room inside or not. Don’t ask me why. I just liked it that way.

My ample first aid kit was in a place quick and easy to reach with only a zipper to protect it. No straps or buckles to be undone. Inside you’ll find first aid for me and also for my equipment.

Everything in both compartments that could be affected by water was packed in Sea-to-Summit waterproof compression sacks. The entire contents were inside trash compactor bags.

Twice the inside of my cargo compartment got soaked by rain which only underscored that staying dry has to be fail safe. Let’s just say that it is now.

Both packs were durable. They do take about 200 miles to break in though.

Shortly before returning to the trail in March, a friend found my favorite piece of equipment. While Mary Manley and I hiked together, she heard my complaints about not having pockets or pouches that would provide quick access to frequently used items without having to take off my pack. She discovered Ribz (www.ribz.com) Ribz resembles what the military dubs “load bearing equipment or LBE.” You don Ribz before your pack. The pouches and pockets can carry gloves and hats, snacks, tools, hand warmers, guide book pages and virtually every small item you need. After 350 miles, I declare Ribz a winner.

Wearing Ribz

My food bag is a ZPack Cuben Fiber bag designed specifically for that purpose. It was expensive, but held up fine. In a pinch I could cram up to eight days rations within.

“Feets don’t fail me now” is a slogan seen occasionally on marathoner’s shirts. If it’s true for marathons, it applies ten-to-the-tenth for thru hikers. Foot health is everything, and it all begins with boots.

I got really lucky in the boot department. I have a high-arched, narrow foot and 30 years ago I discovered that Salomon’s last conforms perfectly to my foot shape. I haven’t had a blister since.

My current hiking boots aren’t really boots per se. They are actually high-topped lighter weight Gore-Tex trail shoes – Salomon model X Ultra Mid GTX. The rocks on the AT are so ubiquitous and unstable that, with the pack weights I had to carry, I needed high tops to protect against rolling my ankles. The insides have a silver threaded lining that seemed to work like my Columbia Omni-Heat base layer to reflect body heat back. My feet never got cold – never! Not even at sub-zero temps. I wore polypropylene sock liners with heavy “Smart Wool” socks.

Here’s the bonus. My first pair of boots lasted 850 miles! The norm is 500 or less. The reason the boots lasted so long isn’t brand magic. There’s a special circumstance. I spent most of my time walking on fluffy leaf litter and snow. The soles show plenty of wear, just not what one might expect from 850 miles.

Toward the end though, my faithful boots started giving up the ghost. The stitching in the uppers stretched to the point where the toe and forefoot areas leaked in the snow. I also poked a stick through an upper toe box which I repaired with Tenacious Tape and silicone seam seal. RIP my intrepid friends. Ya done good, and I’ll miss you.

I bought two identical replacement pairs of boots with my REI dividend. One for now and one for a planned tire change in Hanover, NH.

4. Cold weather:

When I decided to hike on after my planned trip from Springer to Fontana ended, I thought I was well prepared for seasonal weather, even in the infamous Smokies. After all, it was barely the first week in November. I planned to heavy-up my gear during the Thanksgiving break which was slightly more than 10 days away at that time.

The season’s first winter storm on Nov. 5th challenged that premise. The overnight temp unexpectedly plunged to 0F and the trails turned to sheet ice. In spite of having only a 30F kit, I dozed off and on at the Ice Water Spring Shelter that night, but only after wrapping myself in my tent fly for extra insulation. I was not as comfortable as I would like.

The real issue was the absence of mittens. I did have thick gloves and liners, but they were not sufficient to prevent light frost nip. I backtracked into Gatlinburg to buy mittens and microspikes from the large and well-equipped Nantahala Outdoor Center outfitter there.

SOL. No mittens in stock! I was stunned, so I bought a pair of extra large fleece gloves into which I could cram the gloves I already had and pushed on. A couple of fingertips got nipped, but a warming trend prevented further damage.

Staying warm is all about light weight layers. Purely by accident I discovered Omni-Heat clothing by Columbia. The premise is that Mylar microdots embedded in the fabric reflect body heat back and improve the R value. I’m a data guy without real data in this case, but in my experience Omni-Heat is nothing short of magic. It really, really works. As an added attraction, the base layer wicks moisture well too. I also have a lightweight Columbia down jacket with the same feature. Everything has withstood heavy laundering. Score! http://www.columbia.com/Omni-Heat-Reflective/Technology_Omni-Heat_Reflective,default,pg.html

The layering concept is the basis of my various temperature-based packing schemes. Clothing worn while hiking wasn’t a big deal. Hiking generates so much heat that it didn’t take much to be warm. The real issue was not to sweat too much and get soaked.

On my coldest hiking day it was +5 F with 18.5 miles on the menu. I wore my Omni-Heat base layer with a light fleece over that. The top layer was a hooded, high collared rain jacket with pit zips. The windchill was about 10 below. My hands were protected by fleece glove liners and thick mittens inside water/windproof shells. That’s why I only took two photos that day – about 50 yards apart. It was just too hard to unwrap everything.

The real challenge to staying warm isn’t walking, it’s sleeping. My sleep system is based on a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Xlite air mattress. Most heat loss while sleeping is from the bottom. This air mattress is also magic. I was warm every single night. http://www.cascadedesigns.com/therm-a-rest/mattresses/fast-and-light/neoair-xlite/product? Its technology also captures radiant heat.

My sleeping bag is a Sierra Designs Dry Down 25F-rated woman’s bag. I’m 5’6″ and it fits my stature well and saved me about $100 over a comparable men’s bag designed for longer people.

The sleeping bag is supplemented by combinations of the following: A silk liner, a light weight fleece hat and shirt, light weight down booties, pants, and two light weight down jackets sized to fit one inside the other. Add fleece gloves and dry socks and I’ve slept in an open shelter, warm and toasty, at five below with degrees to spare.

These items are mixed and matched in various combinations and are supplemented buy extra hats and gloves as the various temperature ranges dictate.

One important cold weather factor is keeping your hands warm and DRY. Waterproof hand coverings are essential. In fact, rain and 34F can be more threatening than snow at 30F. I used REI mittens with a waterproof shell – and sometimes the shell alone supplemented by fleece gloves – or dishwashing gloves with glove liners inside as circumstances dictated. No problems.

Cooking in colder weather also has a different dynamic. I purchased a highly efficient Jet Boil stove to replace my Pocket Rocket. Boiling ice cold water took less fuel and time with the former. I also made an insulating cozy into which I could put my food while it rehydrated.

If it’s cold enough, your food can cool dramatically during the 10 – 15 minutes it takes to fully rehydrate. The cozy is simply a double layer heavy duty plastic frozen pizza bag cut down and taped together with HVAC tape. It works well and weighs little.

5. Water:

In the beginning I was trucking two liters of water. That’s four fat pounds worth. Ultimately realizing that water would be plentiful, I cut back to a single liter and purchased a Nalgene two liter collapsible canteen for in-camp use. I’ve never run short.

Water treatment is personal preference. I use iodine tabs because that’s what I’ve always used, and I know they work. They’re light and take up almost no space.

I buy several bottles of the tabs, and the white clarifying pills that remove the bad taste, and repack them into two-inch plastic tubular containers. The one drawback is that iodine tabs take 30 minutes to be effective. In contrast Filters are immediate, but they freeze, clog, require maintenance and take up valuable space.

I did pick up a Life Straw filter to take on the second half for emergency use. Sometimes in the summer heat, you can’t wait 30 minutes to rehydrate.

6. Cost:

Ker-ching!!! Being out of cycle and buying extra gear for winter has been costly. The rule of thumb for an in-cycle hike is amortized at $1,000 per month which includes the cost of gear. Gear for a largely summer hike reportedly ranges from $1,000 to $1,500.

My costs have averaged about twice normal – including a lot of extra winter gear. Off cycle, there’s usually no one with whom to share the cost of shuttles and lodging. Some of these services cost extra then too. The weather zeros add up as has some down time waiting until my wife could come and collect me for the holidays. Towns are expensive, especially the restaurant food.

After crossing the Mason-Dixon Line, I’ve noticed that I can anticipate fewer inexpensive hostels and more expensive motels. The price difference is up to a factor of four in many cases. Ouch!

Could I have shaved some of these costs? Not really, unless I switched to a normal hike. It is what it is.

6. Hygiene:

After packing my “survival pile,” the luxury I chose was personal hygiene. My mother is the principal reason. She used to admonish us as adolescents for smelling like “Boy Scouts” when we’d come home from a camping trip. Later, as an Army leader, I learned that throughout history more soldiers have died from preventable diseases than at the hands of their enemies. Keeping clean is the key, and I am obsessed with it.

My hygiene kit includes a comb, plastic mirror, tooth brush, floss, waterless shampoo, Dr. Bronner’s (very eco-friendly) soap, hand sanitizer, fingernail clippers and file, a ration of two “Wet Ones” per day, and a small microfiber towel. The hand sanitizer doubles as deodorant. Just remember to rub it in to activate the alcohol.

I also use table napkins as TP – much stronger and less likely to tear. When digging a cat hole, I carefully burn the paper before filling it back up. It’s an old practice I was taught in dry climates where paper can last a hundred years. Just don’t burn down the woods.

Keeping clean differs some between winter and summer conditions. Below 40F, I don’t wash my hair daily or shave everyday. Too cold. But hands can be washed, body wiped down with Wet Ones, and teeth brushed.

In summer, I sponge off he sweat residue as soon as I reach camp. Clothes can be washed and rinsed in a trash compactor bag, two liters of water and Dr. Bronners. Just fill up the bag and shake. Repeat for the rinse cycle. Oooom. Irish Spring.

I carry two base layers in winter, plus several light outer layers. In summer, I always have two sets of shorts and t-shirts, plus a cotton sleeping shirt and a decent shirt to wear in town that only comes out in town. Accessorize sans hiker funk, and note the clean hair and fingernails. No hiker trash here.

7. Electronics:

Cold temperatures raise hell with lithium batteries. Once the battery itself reaches temps under 50F, it can shutdown in a matter of minutes. By March I was carrying 4 1/2 extra iPhone battery equivalents, plus the phone. Most of them were manufactured by Mophie. During the day I couldn’t do much except keep my phone as close to my body as possible. Twice I used dry handwarmers to keep my phone battery viable enough to phone for shuttles.

At night the batteries snuggled inside my jacket pocket. Once warm and bedded down, I’d recharge my phone or iPod as needed. Not an ideal situation, but the best I could do.

In town, most hostels don’t have enough plugs to charge several devices at once. During hiking season it must be a zoo. I purchased a single plug, multi-port charger into which I could connect everything I carried. It was slow, taking all night to recharge everything, but much better than charging the phone and storage batteries one at a time. Can’t wait for summer.

Summary:

The age old truths apply. In particular, when there is will, there is a way. Best of all, if you don’t mind, it don’t matter.

Sisu – Makin’ tracks …

Hair today. Gone tomorrow.

April 9, 2014 / jim fetig / 4 Comments

I started cultivating my beard the day after my mother’s funeral. I just needed to change things up a bit. If nothing else, I needed to see something different in the mirror. We were beyond the fuzzy stage when I returned to hiking in early March.

Until the stubble showed up, I was clean shaven on the trail. As winter progressed, the cold forced me from shaving every day as had been my previous habit. So shearing the crop shifted to join my weekly town routine along with laundry and a shower. I should reverse those because the shower always comes first!

Believe it or not, on the trail having a beard made a huge difference. Sans beard I had a hard time convincing people I was a thru hiker. I just didn’t look the part. Thru hikers are supposed to be scruffy. Almost by definition facial hair is an expected part of the male uniform along with a distinct odoriferous funk and filthy fingernails.

I didn’t fit the picture.

A typical conversation would go like this:

Q: “Where’d you start?” A: “Georgia.” (I didn’t want to complicate matters by explaining that I started first in the north before going south.)

Q: “Where ‘ya headed?” A: “Maine.”

Q: “What section are you doing this time?” A: “Not doing sections. I’m a thru hiker.”

Puzzled look. :~{

Q: “Geez. You don’t look like a thru hiker. When did you start?” A: “Late September…”

And so it would go. Even Crazy Larry labeled me a section hiker on his hostel’s Facebook page – after I had explained my unconventional hike more than once, but then again Larry admits he’s crazy.

Once the beard showed up, the entire social dynamic changed. People assumed I was thru hiking and were interested in the number of miles I averaged each day, how much my pack weighed, and how long I thought it would take to reach Katahdin. It just goes to show that judging a book by its cover can be very misleading.

By now, someone out there is wondering why I whacked off the whiskers. It’s simple.

Last week I chanced to stumble through a swarm of freshly hatched gnats. There were ‘zillions’ of them, and more than a fair share opened a game of hide and seek in my facial hair, and were still squatting on my property several hours later when I reached camp for the evening. Combing them out was a pain in my posterior. While tending to my nitting so to speak, my subconsciousness recalled reading last year about guys combing ticks and other unwelcome guests out of their beards. Yuck!

Fear the beard! The scariest animals on the AT are not bears. Lyme Disease carrying deer ticks strike deep dread in every hiker’s heart. Why offer those pests an extra opportunity to lay you low? So it was bye-bye beardie.

Maybe the beard and I will meet again when this is over. I’ll think about it. My buds at Fitness Together like it, though my spouse does not.

Major Milestone Complete

April 5, 2014 / jim fetig / 5 Comments

George Harrison with the Beatles had it right. “Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold, lonely, winter!” You bet! One thousand and eight, point eight northbound miles on the odometer.

“Here comes the sun,” I hope. Of course, along with warmer weather I realize that in trade I’ll be sharing the trail amenities with other thru hikers, section hikers and recreational users of the trail. That’s been the (very welcome) case pretty much since spring break. Actually, it’s been nice to have some company after weeks playing a combination of Daniel Boone/Grizzly Adams/Kit Carson going solo in the wilderness.

Being alone does help foster peace of mind. I’ve come to understand and embrace the appeal that solitude brings monks, nuns, hermits and those who spend hours in meditation. On the other hand, sometimes your mouth fills up with stuff you just have to share with someone. In those cases, when two hikers paths cross, the stacato wordy eruptions from the two parties can be positively Vesuviun as they lock on like Blue Tooth, spouting information at rates that would melt fiber optic cable.

Since I trekked from Rockfish Gap to Harpers Ferry in the fall, when I closed on the Gap, my hike flash forwarded the 160 miles through Shenandoah National Park and on to the Maryland border where the Potomac washes the West Virginia line.

As I ensconced myself at a convenient popcorn stand, Tim, my high school classmate once again saved my bacon. He scooped me up for an Italian lunch in downtown Waynesboro, a shower at his house and a visit to a very cool museum within walking distance of his house as we killed time until my wife could arrive and drag me home. Of course we treated our spouses to fine dining first.

Day 1: 10:04 a.m. Sept. 24, 2013

11 a.m. March 3, 2014 – 25 lbs. lighter. Notice the big difference in body language.

A popcorn/jhot dog stand right on the trail. What a concept!

The Frontier Culture Museum in Staunton, Va. (http://www.frontiermuseum.org/)is a living history affair modeled on Colonial Williamsburg, featuring the ethnic groups that settled the Shenandoah Valley – including the original Americans and the ethnic Nigerian Igbo enslaved population. The perspective it offers about how the valley was settled and evolved was absolutely awesome.

Along the way, I learned that those stone walls I previously wrote about were actually built by rented slaves. That tale is not as romantic as the image of hard-scrabble farmers clearing land by the sweat of their brow.

When to reenter the northbound hiker flow is to be determined. The Conservancy staff suggests waiting until late April or early May or risk riding winter’s tail all the way to the end. That option would add the social factor associated with more people too. On the other hand, I’m not inclined to wait that long. Therefore I’ve arranged to consult with several successful of thru hikers who reside in the northern states and seek their advice. My departure date will be based on how their insights fit with the experience I hope to have.

Meanwhile, there’ll be more in this space on lessons learned, Tarzan, and a couple of other subjects that banged against my skull as I bumped along the trail.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Sisu – Makin’ tracks …

Today brought to you by the color green

April 2, 2014 / jim fetig / 6 Comments

Maupin Field Shelter, Va., AT NOBO mile 837.0, Tuesday April 1, 2014 — Got myself vertical at the crack of dawn knowing I had a big day in store.

I wanted to hike 20 miles today to reduce tomorrow’s haul from 22 to 18. That sets up an easy jaunt into Rockfish Gap/Waynesboro where this adventure kicked off last September 24.

Today was the last of the trail candy – a dandy mountain called The Priest. I understand there are others nearby in the genre named the Bishop and Rabbi.

An unusual rock formation atop The Priest may account for its name. The adjacent shelter is known as a place where hikers confess their sins in the shelter log. Unfortunately it was both fairly new and soggy. Nothing salacious and I couldn’t write in it. Another “Oh fer.”

Unlike the weather forecast, the morning started cold and cloudy, but around eleven everything changed. Today’s temp on the trail eventually reached a whopping 75 big ones!

Concurrently the wow factor kicked in. At an overlook I noticed for the first time that GREEN was visible in the fields. Old Man Winter you can vote against green all you want, but your gloomy brown and white can’t hang on much longer. You’re outa here dude. Wow.

Shortly thereafter I stumbled on a familiar face in the form of two hikers, Tracy McG, who thru hiked last year, and her sister are hiking all the way in the form of a double “flip flop.” They started at Harpers Ferry headed to Georgia. When they reach Springer Mountain, the southern terminus, they’ll flip to Mt. Katahdin, Maine, the northern terminus, and head south to Harpers Ferry for their finish.

All in all, it was a fine day.

Cut your losses

March 27, 2014March 27, 2014 / jim fetig / 5 Comments

Buena Vista, Va., AT NOBO mile 802.6, Thursday March 27, 2014 — Yesterday’s wind storm did a number on the trail.

This morning Butch, who co-owns Bluedogart with his wife Susan, shuttled me to the trailhead parking lot located a mile downhill from AT NOBO mile 818.9 so I could scamper back toward Buena Vista for a 5 pm pickup.

The one mile uphill trek was moderately steep, taking 40 minutes slowed slightly by the six inches of snow clogging the old dirt logging road.

Once up top everything changed. Yesterday’s stiff winds mounded the snow into an endless series of deep drifts, some to midthigh, but most just above the knee. A genuine posthole experience for those who know about these things.

Since the trail started on an exposed ridge line, I thought I would walk out of it. Not so. After almost two trail miles I realized the drifting was for keeps.

The sun sparkled and drifted snow drastically slowed my pace. When I reached a definable land mark on my trail guide, I realized that at my blistering pace, arrival at the pick up point would be after midnight rather than 5 pm. Time to reverse course and try another day, especially since I wasn’t carrying a tent or sleeping bag.

With rain in the forecast starting late tomorrow, lasting into Saturday, I don’t expect the snow to clear until Sunday morning. Being only two hours from home is tempting with three nights to kill. I have a call in to my wife to see if she can swoop in and rescue me tonight. If so, I’ll be home for our anniversary Saturday!

I’ll drive back Monday to hike the section to Waynesboro in three days, then recover my car.

Decision made with no phone signal, I reversed my footprints and retraced my course down the old logging road.

As luck would have it, there’s a Virginia Fish and Game fish hatchery at the bottom of the hill equipped with a phone and a really nice manager named Tim. You’re a gem big guy.

I arranged a shuttle only to arrive at the hostel (built in the 1890s) to find an overheated electrical socket. Butch and I pulled it out of the wall and disconnected it.

Upon reflection, today deep snow was a lucky break. Aside from the obvious reasons, I had $1,500 worth of gear stored on the other side of that wall!

Can you believe it?

March 26, 2014March 26, 2014 / jim fetig / 13 Comments

Buena Vista, Va., AT NOBO mile 802.6, Wednesday March 26, 2014 — Taking a weather zero (mileage) day off. The prevailing winds on the AT are from the southwest. Today a stiff wind is ripping from the northwest and I’d be walking dead into a subzero windchill. My mamma didn’t raise a fool.

Tomorrow I’m planning to slack pack about 15 miles back to Buena Vista. The advantage is twofold. One, it solves a distance problem that enables me to avoid hiking a 20-plus mileage day my second day out. Two, I get another night indoors and the free breakfast that comes with it.

Slack packing is when hikers are driven a distance down the trail and hike back to their point of origin. I so doing, they empty their packs of tents, sleeping bags, food and other nonessentials for a day hike. First aid, rain gear and water about everything that goes along for the ride.

The moving is faster ’cause the load is much lighter. I’ll still have to contend with six inches of melting snow, e.g. slush, but I’ll take that bet.

Got a huge surprise last night when I prepared to shower. A tick was noshing on my leg – as in locked on tight. It was too large to be a deer tick, the Lyme Disease vector. Nevertheless, I was a bit dumbfounded. During the past month, the overnight temps have been above freezing only twice. Moreover my base layer is skintight so the little sucker really had to work to get there. Could it be that Spring has sprung and nobody told us?

At the moment I’m soaking up lunch at the Bluedogart Cafe complete with a slab of that heavenly bee sting cake. Turns out that it’s homemade by a local Amish lady. Butch, the owner, is holding down the fort at his favorite roost.

Blame the Weatherman

March 25, 2014March 25, 2014 / jim fetig / 1 Comment

Matts Creek Shelter, Va., AT NOBO mile 778.6, Sunday March 23 — Today’s my daughter’s 25th birthday. Happy birthday Tiger. Go get ’em!

Today’s forecast was for sunny and 70F. I dressed accordingly.

Had a lousy night’s sleep. Don’t know why. The night was too warm, maybe. At around 2:30 am the temp dropped 20 degrees. That did it. I slept ’til 7 am; was hiking by eight.

There I was cruising up the first of two scheduled climbs for the day when, two hours in, nickel-size snow flakes began bombarding the woods as if dropped from a fleet of B-52s directly overhead.

“Where the hey did this come from,” I muttered. Faster than a NASCAR pit crew, my wet weather gear was on me and my pack. Everything needed fits in pockets outside my pack, making for quick access. “That’s not what the weatherman said!”

Just then a gaggle of Boy Scouts trooped by. Some were in shirtsleeve T-shirts. ‘Nuff said, I thought. I’m not the only one.

Being a bit underdressed kept me moving at a hasty pace all day. I reached my planned destination by two o’clock. Stopping for the day at 2 pm in the cold, empty shelter wasn’t a viable option, so I pressed on for a total of slighly more than 22 miles on the day. Now I’m much lower in altitude and out of the snow.

The old aphorism about everybody complaining about the weather – and by extension weathermen – but nobody ever does anything about it.

As I passed through the trail feature known as the guillotine, the answer to the age old complaint flashed between my ears.

“Off with ‘is ‘ead!” The answer was obvious.

Transitions and Contrasts

March 12, 2014March 12, 2014 / jim fetig / 1 Comment

Trent’s Grocery, Bland (indeed), Va. March 10 — The seasonal change is about to burst forth. The signs are everywhere. We’ve been seeing fresh bear scat all week. They are around and about. Nearly every plant is preparing to bud. Today I saw a butterfly and a water doodle. Could mosquitos be far behind?

What a day of contrasts. The sides of mountains facing away from the sun – generally the north sides – we’re freezing while the southern exposures cooked. Our high temp on the trail today ladies and gents was a big 72F. Let’s hear it for the weather service.

So there I was wearing a Columbia Omni Heat shirt. For the uninitiated, this winter clothing line features Mylar micro dots that reflect heat back toward your body. I can testify that this technology is a working miracle. Only it over achieves at high ambient temps. Not wearing any tomorrow. Nope. I am not. Tomorrow’s forecast is the same as today’s.

Of course, this early in March, way too early to count our weather chickens. Sleet and snow rear their ugly heads again Wednesday and Thursday.

We’re tenting on the back lot of Trent’s Grocery – grill, off sale beer and hardware emporium. In our honor, the proprietor hasn’t opened the shower or laundry facilities. He’s waiting for the last freeze. He did let us clean up in the store restroom. That’s the one with the out of order sign on the door, except it’s in perfect working order. What a guy. Their hamburgers = A+. Just know before you go.

Earlier in the day we passed a place where seven deer carcasses had been dumped along the road. Just after that the forest floor had been burned. The trash and liquor bottles around the deer and the fire suggest a correlation of deviant behaviors, but I am not so certain. Appalachia is so poor that many families have to poach deer in order to eat. It does not necessarily follow that they engage in other irresponsible activities. It’s a hard life here.

We also saw an interesting suspension bridge.

Tomorrow it’s the famous yoga enshrined, organic and granola encrusted Woods Hole Hostel. There’s only 16 miles and a healthy climb between us.

Are we there yet?

March 1, 2014 / jim fetig / 6 Comments

In October, the weather at White Blaze number 1 was a harbinger of temperatures to come – The ambient air temp registered a unseasonal 17 F frosted with a stiff wind.

_____________________

When 2014 rolled over on Father Time’s odometer, the annual blossoming of the Appalachian Trail (AT) commenced as hikers slowly began pollinating north Georgia’s Springer Mountain. Each new arrival swelled the cavalcade expectantly streaming northward. From a few in January, each successive month bears witness to new hopefuls joining the annual rebirth and migration.

From Springer, they follow the nor’ easters stormy track for 2,185.3 miles – all the way to Baxter State Park in central Maine. Their ultimate hope is to hug that battered placard atop Mt. Katahdin. Undeterred, they willfully ignore the overwhelming odds against their success. Historical evidence suggests that least three of four of us will be unsuccessful.

As a family strung out over the miles, individually and together we hikers navigate a unique ribbon of reality. It twists and turns in a slow motion parallel universe to I-95 which, just a few miles east of the AT, rages relentlessly northward in the direction of our common destination. We are confident in our slower but equally determined pace, and fortified by our greater peace of mind as we leave civilization in the rear view mirror.

For the next several months we inhabit a migrating colony of free-range hikers. Our feral existence is defined by day-by-day adventures all our own. That’s how our story unfolds.

The class of 2014 has done all the preparation possible. From now until Katahdin, for any chance of success, each of us needs luck, and above all, the courage to keep on keeping on, no matter what challenge comes our way.

Feet to brain, “Say what! “

Not one of us is an island. The support of family, friends, the trail community, complete strangers, and those who read our journals is a necessary condition of success.

The long march for the Class of 2014 is finally underway in significant numbers. If we have the physical stamina, enough luck to avoid major illness and injury, and the mental fortitude to repeat the first stride five million times through ups and downs, snow, rain, mud, heat, humidity, ugly rocks, injuries and blood sucking insects, then we too will claim the high ground and tag that weathered scoreboard almost 2,200 miles north of white blaze number 1.

My hike is highly unconventional, although not originally planned that way. On September 24th I started a 13-day, 160-mile practice hike from Waynesboro, Va to Harpers Ferry WVa. It was so much fun that I did not want to waste it. So, I decided to get down to Springer Mountain and start northward as soon as I could.

With my friend Mary “Hey Man!” Manley, I took the on-ramp to the northbound hiker super highway on Oct. 24. Mary plans to resume her hike from where she suspended it in about a month from now. I know this tough cookie is going to make it all the way.

As I crunched my way forward on the snow and ice-crusted trail as the days darkened, I heard of three NOBOs hiking ahead of me with the intent of driving on to Maine unless weather drove them off the trail. Reports are that one left the trail in Damascus just prior of my arrival there. I have no word of the others.

Now it’s my turn to rejoin the class. The administrative tasks related to my mother’s passing are complete, the taxes filed, and all the rest.

My official return to the trail is Wednesday. High octane drop boxes packed with calories were mailed last week. During the interim, I’ve been working hard at Fitness Together. The plan is Katahdin or Bust by July fourth – give or take. Fingers crossed.

As always, armchair hikers are welcome to enjoy the rest of the journey.

Sisu – Making tracks

Humor does not diminish the pain – it makes the space around it get bigger. – Allen Klein

“The most certain way of ensuring victory is to march briskly and in good order against the enemy, always endeavoring to gain ground.” Fredrick the Great

A version of this entry was previously posted on Trail Journals.

Dumbo’s Feather

February 26, 2014 / jim fetig / 7 Comments

I am thru-hiking the AT this year with fond memories of my late friend Bob Schwartz.

In the mid-1970s, when we were young, hard-bodied and living in Colorado Springs, Bob was my favorite hiking, climbing, and biking partner. We would hit the Rocky Mountain high country as often as our lives and wives would allow.

Together we summited “fourteeners” in winter and summer, bouldered and swam through the 1,800-foot-deep Black Canyon of the Gunnison River, rode centuries through the rolling plains around C-Springs, and contemplated the cosmos as we camped at starry-eyed altitudes.

Bob in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison River, Colorado

Bob loved New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Walking there in his footsteps there will be the most cherished part of this experience.

Bob was a native New Yorker (Brooklyn). Through his eyes (and accent) I learned my way around the city long before I ever set foot there. His quintessentially Jewish sense of humor and piercing intellect were extraordinary.

Bob graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Yale in only three years on his way to becoming a distinguished physicist, NASA scientist and university professor. During our journeys we often camped above tree line where the deep velvet sky is sequined in stars. His education was my good fortune because, ever the professor, he never missed an opportunity to expand my mind and share his appreciation for the cosmos.

Bob tragically died of Creutzfeldt-Jacob disease (CJD) in 1980. At the time, his doctors believed he might have contracted this brain-destroying disease while doing post-doc work at Cambridge University. Bovine spongiform encephalopathy (mad cow) was present in the UK then, and researchers believed that CJD could be contracted by eating contaminated beef.

The irony of a mind-robbing disease destroying a brilliant intellect remains heart-breaking to this day.

After he died, Bob’s wife Mary wanted me to have his climbing and camping gear. In Bob’s memory, I will carry one of his carabineers.

How would I know the carabineer was Bob’s? Climbers mark their equipment because during climbs it often gets co-mingled with hardware belonging to others. Since Schwartz sounds like schwarz – German for the color black – Bob marked his gear with black electrical tape. Duh!

If Bob were part of this hike, and believe me he would have jumped right on it, we would literally fly like Disney pachyderms. ‘Quit’ and ‘impossible’ were not in his vocabulary, although he spelled PRUDENCE in all caps.

Once while ascending the south route of Colorado’s Crestone Needle (14,197ft.) in February, my toes were suffering from frost nip on their way to something worse. We descended to our tent pitched on a saddle below, warmed my foot and changed into dry socks. I was thinking zero and a very early dinner, but Bob pointed his mittened hand upward, and back up we went to keep our appointment with the blustery summit.

My friend, we will be united once more, especially on those magical midnights when stardust rains from the sky. Your carabineer will serve as a talisman inspiring me to press onward relentlessly and always. It will remind me to be courageous, to challenge my imagination and to encourage my mind to travel far beyond what little I can actually see.

I am so thankful to have Mary’s bequest. It reminds me that life and good health should never be wasted. You have my solemn promise to give this journey every ounce of energy, fortitude and kindness to others that I can muster.

Just as Dumbo clutched his feather and soared, I hope having Bob’s ‘beaner’ along for the ride will do the same for me. BTW, It’s not useless weight. In addition to its function as totem, it moonlights by clipping my micro spikes to my pack by day and as my bear bag hanger by night.

Sisu – Making tracks

“Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.” Marcus Aurelius

(A version of this essay was previously posted on Trail Journals.)

A fork in the road

Yogi said, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it." So I'm following the white blazes.

camp