SOBO is the loneliest number

October 17, 2013October 17, 2013 / jim fetig / Leave a comment

I met a lot of SOBO (Southbound AT hikers) during my recent two week hike on the Appalachian Trail. But with the exception of the large Millennial flash mob at Pinefield Hut, they were few and far between.

As I met southbounders along the trail, they were eager to talk and enjoy a little company. We always exchanged the usual trail intel – water sources, was Shenandoah allowing thru hikers to pass through, trail conditions, etc. Yet beyond that, they all said theirs was a lonely hike. They just didn’t see that many people.

It was always best to meet up with SOBOs at shelters. Then we had the time to enjoy each other’s company. Usually they were by themselves. On two occasions, other than the flash mob, there were two or three. At Gravel Springs I ran into a thoughtful young man on a post high school gap year. Joining us was a PhD student in cultural geography and his Spanish girlfriend from Madrid.

On that evening and again at breakfast, we had stimulating discussions about books we’d read in common, what America was like in comparison to expectations, and we exchanged a few quips in Spanish. BTW, the American standout was the abundance and types of wildlife. Think real black bears in the wild – no bars, no barriers, no zoo. Very cool to a European.

Mostly I encountered about one SOBO per day, usually a day apart from one another. I’d always tell them who was ahead of them and how far. A couple of them said they were trying to catch up with people. The encounters with hikers whose blogs I’ve followed was especially sweet.

Southbounders have a certain advantage. Weather tends to be better, especially once they’re out of New England. They get to avoid most of the heat, insects and the worst of the cold weather. The shelters and hostels aren’t crowed either.

There’s one thing nobody figured on. Everybody said the trail magic ended as soon as the last NOBO bubble past them by. It was like nobody cared anymore. They were alone. SOBO and solo. I was saddened. They were missing the best parts of the AT experience.

Sisu – Making tracks.

The Benefit of Fitness

October 13, 2013January 27, 2021 / jim fetig / 1 Comment

Thirty-seven lbs. in a 40 liter pack – ugh!

Visions of history’s great force marches gnawed at my mind as I set out on my last training hike. This hike was deliberately designed to test my limits.

I constantly reminded myself that my efforts and challenges were a cakewalk in comparison to the distances both armies frequently marched during the Civil War on some of the very ground upon which I was walking.

The suffering and horror of Bataan or Napoleon’s retreat from Russia were beyond imagination or reasonable comparison.

In this context, my hike was easy. Why, I pondered, do so many people physically succumb and drop out of their thru hike attempts? I learned some about why that happens and would like to share it with you.

The test I created was a simple worse case scenario. I would hike 160 miles in two weeks carrying my full winter kit and 14 days worth of food. While knowing resupply was easy, I chose to be self-contained and heavy on purpose, just to learn how my body would handle the stress of the extra weight.

In the beginning by total pack weight was 37 lbs. That wasn’t a monkey on my back, it was a full grown gorilla! Jane Goodall would have been proud. As I ate the weight down I expected some relief, but Mother Nature had other malevolent ideas.

I ate weight, but Momma Nature countered by turning up the heat. As I basted in my own sweat, my mind played games with my head. I obsessed about and deeply resented the useless weight imposed by my winter base layer, the 20 degree sleeping bag and the now useless puffy down jacket. My clothing bag came to weigh as much as a black smith’s anvil. Thank heaven there were no hiker boxes around tempting me to off-load a little superfluous mass.

As it was, I pushed to finish one day early in order to beat a tropical storm. Doing that involved three consecutive 15s and one 20-mile day in 88 – 90 degree temps. Good training for summer weather I thought – fortunately minus most of the blood sucking insects.

The good news is that the time spent pushing myself to near nausea in the weight room with my trainers at Fitness Together paid off in spades.

This hike was harder than imagined, but thanks to my weight training and running, strength and endurance were never issues. In fact, I was able to keep pushing hard at the end of several painful and frustrating days.

Age-imposed limitations are the bad news. After it was over, three full days elapsed before I could even contemplate resuming hiking. The message there is that I essentially gained nothing by force marching for 13 days. Zero mileage days actually gain time in the future.

Today, one week after finishing, my knees are still sore. The extra weight in my pack conspired with rocky downhill slopes to impose maximum stress on them. Trekking poles helped some, but not enough. I vowed that my total pack weight will never exceed 25 lbs. again, no matter what, when or why.

As the hike wore on, small aches and pains asserted themselves. My calves wanted to cramp no matter how much I drank. A muscle in the middle of my back decided to go on strike. My triceps got sore from pushing and lifting myself up with my poles. My glutes staged 60s-style protests. I developed a stiff neck from sleeping the wrong way. Joy was everywhere.

The object lesson is that a zero (rest day) about every fifth day would be optimal. Zeroing at least once every seven days is mandatory for me. Otherwise, my body will start rapidly breaking down. Good to know now while there is still time to plan before the main event begins.

Without the extra fitness level, I would have been screwed. It is good to know, however, that I am able to push as hard, far and fast as necessary if need be. It’s not too late for anyone hiking in 2014 to get in better shape. Training hikes help, but weight training, boot camp fitness or cross fit under the supervision of a coach/personal trainer can impressively improve your odds of success. Think of it as insurance.

The reason I suggest coaching, if you can afford the investment, is that most folks profit from the expertise they offer and their ability to maximize the benefit of your workouts. For months mine have been specifically designed for hiking and they paid off. For example, box jumps with weights are perfect training for high-stepping up stone steps and over ledges or big boulders.

And now some breaking news. Plans have changed for my next training hike. Roadrunners often train on the same course upon which they will race to gain familiarity. I’m hoping this rule of thumb applies to hiking.

On October 25^th class of ’14 member Mary “Hey Man!” Manley and I will begin hiking the 165 miles from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Fontana Village, North Carolina. She’s a recently retired nurse. We’ll travel at her pace and on her schedule. After reviewing “Baltimore Jack’s” notes, I think about five days worth of grub is the most I’ll ever need on this stretch.

Not sure how it will go, but we’ll let you know how two retired folks do and will share what we learn from our individual age, gender and hiker perspectives. You can follow Mary’s blog on WordPress and Trail Journals.

Sisu – Making tracks.

Stink Bugs + Notebook Odds and Ends

October 11, 2013 / jim fetig / 1 Comment

Avoiding stink bugs at Dick’s Dome Shelter

Some days you get the bears, and some days the bears get you.

Day nine of my hike was the most difficult. Hard rocks (Aren’t they all?) punctuated most of the day and I had a lot of miles to log. A little bit of serendipity want a long way, and on balance, I got is good as I gave.

If you read my blog post on music, you know that I’ve given it a lot of attention. Three times on day nine, music lifted my spirits and lightened my load.

The first musical magic was Willy Nelson singing “A Little Bit of Karma” just as the trail leveled out after a long steep climb. I muttered a weary thanks to Karma, my 2013 thru hiker friend, for her kindly intervention. This woman has certain super powers. Could she be a saint, I wondered? Then, just as soon as the song finished, the trail turned upward again.

Not much later, John Denver crooned “Country Roads” just as the blue hills of West Virginia hung on the horizon. I sang along. After all, West Virginia was destination and it would be “almost heaven” when I got there.

Better yet, a couple of hours later, as I worked my way up Pass Mountain with twilight close behind, Hanna Montana uplifted my stride with “The Climb.” Music saved the day.

Needless to say, after day nine, my feet ached, but not as much as they might have. My podiatrist made me special orthotics to protect against plantar fasciitis. They are worth the investment. They did need an adjustment to widen the heel cup on the left one. Once it’s back from the lab, I’ll be back agitating AT gravel.

The first thing I heard a southbounder complained about was stink bugs. This surprised me because I didn’t recall anyone complaining about them on Trail Journals. The further north I got, the more prevalent these nosy pests became.

When I reached the Tom Floyd shelter at mid day, hundreds of them had taken up residence. A day later I set my tent up inside Dick’s Dome so I could get a peaceful night’s sleep. Precautions aside, a couple of dead ones fell out of my pack as I emptied it back home. I’ve got a bad feeling about these guys fellow fourteeners.

Electronics and storage batteries became a challenge. My 10.5 amp hour storage battery failed for the second time. I had to heavily ration my phone and iPod batteries. I did get to charge them at waysides and Bear’s Den. However, I wasn’t able to blog or take many photos with my phone, or listen to my iPod except for an hour or two at night. I’m working on the fix.

Phone battery hell. Temps around 40 on the first few mornings played hell with my phone battery, cutting the charge from 50 percent to zero. I was surprised at this level of sensitivity to cold. All I had to do was warm it back up, but figuring out how to keep it next to my body in the much colder temps next spring is a must. Batteries like to be comfortable.

Last, my wife and I developed a system for staying in touch, not knowing how reliable phone service or email might be. At each opportunity I texted her the AWOL guide NOBO mileage number as I passed landmarks and had phone service. A simple 968.3 was easier to get through on one bar than something more complicated. While I couldn’t always text my final daily location, we never went more that 12 hours being out of touch.

Flash Mob at Pinefield Hut

October 9, 2013October 9, 2013 / jim fetig / Leave a comment

It was a dark and thirsty night, but the old folks at Pinefield Hut didn’t know that yet.

Meanwhile, day three of my Appalachian Trail training hike had just closed. In spite of my heavy pack, I’d made good time walking on the contoured terrain around the Loft Mountain camp ground. Put it in the books as a good day.

There I was making camp with a couple of younger guys just out of the Army and an older 70-something thru hiker recently back on the trail following a long injury recovery. He was hiking from his home near Delaware Water Gap to the place in southern Virginia where he had to leave the trail this past spring with his hopes for completion long dashed.

It was dark and quiet with hiker midnight fast approaching. The military guys decided to tent leaving the shelter to the two older guys. It would be my second night in a shelter, but given the hour, it didn’t seem like we should be expecting more company.

Wrong!

Just as we were settling in a couple of young Millennials drifted in. One was a young woman whose blog I’d read and we had a nice conversation about that and other mundane aspects of the trail. Than a few more young faces drifted in from the darkness – and a few more after that. The dynamic of one of those You Tube flash mobs quickly took over.

Once the crowd reached critical mass, out came beer, wine in one and two liter bottles. In a flash the picnic table was groaning under their weight. I checked my watch. Ten thirty. For me, it was past time to sleep. For them it was party time.

A roaring fire accompanied a solo guitar. Alcohol fueled voices harmonized – more or less. The rowdy revelry continued well into the wee hours before dawn. The other adult hiker and I scrunched into the deep shadowy recesses of the shelter and tried to sleep, me with my iPod cranking out an alternative soundtrack.

It was a stereotypical display of Millennial self-absorption. I generally hold young folks in high regard having worked with 18 – 24 year-olds most of my life. This group, other than being inconsiderate, wasn’t that bad with a couple of obnoxious exceptions. As minor payback I certainly didn’t hesitate to make noise when I broke camp at the onset of morning nautical twilight.

One thing came out of it, a new song to add to my AT playlist. Judy Collins’ “Send in the Clowns” seems a most appropriate way to memorialize the evening.

Stolen Sign Epiphany

September 1, 2013September 1, 2013 / jim fetig / 1 Comment

I lunched today with two fantastic southbound thru hikers, a couple of folks from the great state of Tennessee. Their blog on www.trailjournals.com is so creative, I just had to meet them.

Since Maine, they’ve been living for the day when they’d slide south of the Mason-Dixon line and return to the land of sweet tea, mac and cheese, biscuits and gravy, and almighty grits.

We met at my usual spot in Harpers Ferry. The Appalachian Trail Conservancy headquarters is like a temple where thru hikers memorialize their hike with an official photo that is filed in the official data base forever. They can bring their kids back decades later, open the book, and there they are in full glory. There’s even a copy to be found on line, so you don’t actually have to visit.

As I drove in, I couldn’t miss them. There they were marching up the hill distinguished by their bright orange pack covers. The international orange pack jackets are supposed to protect hikers from deer hunters figuring no one would ever confuse a deer with a traffic cone – would they?

After the obligatory introductions and photo ceremony, we headed out for lunch in the historic district where John Brown’s raid on the arsenal and some anecdotal civil war history happened.

We found a eclectic eatery nestled in a house erected in the early 1800s. We settled into a cozy patio carved from the rocky cliff behind the house. Shaded on a hot day, it was nice.

The conversation superseded pouring over the menu, so we ordered on the fly.

I need to digress a bit. I have lived enough in the south to be an honorary southerner with certain southern culinary habits. I like all of the aforementioned southern delicacies, and often substitute them for haute cuisine.

Back to the story. It wasn’t until I ordered sweet tea that my guests fully realized they were back on Confederate territory. You see, someone has stolen the sign demarking the Mason – Dixon Line. Without that reminder, who knew!

A quick check of the menu revealed mac and cheese and most of the other great southern dishes. So, there they were. Hike only half way done, but almost all the way home.

Trooper and Number 2, thanks for letting me have a tiny share of your most excellent adventure. Godspeed.

The Value of Zero

August 15, 2013August 15, 2013 / jim fetig / Leave a comment

Some people know the cost of everything and the value of nothing. That’s the rap on more than a few of the bean counters out there in the business world.

It’s a fact: 1 x 0 = 0. That equals nothing, nada, zilch, zip, empty, nil, naught, nix, nicht, and without value. It follows that 2 x 0 = 0 and so on. So, zero’s worthless? Don’t kid yourself. On the AT a zero can be priceless. A zero can save your hike.

Recently a hiker I’ve been following wrote a blog post embroidered with frustration and punctuated by despair. It wasn’t unlike dozens we’ve seen in all seasons this year when hikers have reached their wits end. Cold, heat, sow, rain, mud, bugs, discomfort and falls all add up. My hiker friend, who has anonymity, was ready to cash it in and go home.

Enough was enough. The rain, mud, bugs and all finally added up. But no, that wasn’t enough. Then came the fall. It wasn’t the first, but this one was serious – a faceplant into a rock. There was blood, and it hurt – a lot. I was heartbroken for my friend.

Every hiker has an inner reservoir of mental resilience much like a checkbook balance. The balance ebbs and flows as a hike unfolds.

Debits are obviously related to cumulative experiences with rain, cold, heat, snow, rain, plague, mud, fatigue, hunger, aches and pains, etc.

Deposits come in many forms – trail magic, hot showers, town food, trail angels, new friends, and cool experiences, etc. Everyone tries to keep the balance in positive territory.

My friend was in a mental overdraft situation – out of gas and without the will to even take another step. Worse yet, there were no zeros on the schedule and the nearest exit was literally in the middle of nowhere, and probably the most austere “trail town” there is with a hostel. Its only claim to fame is jewelry literally made out of dung and we’re not talkin’ buffalo chips! Think of it as the only fly-over burg on the whole AT.

Then a miracle happened (Enter deus ex machina.) in the form of two unplanned zero days (2×0) notable for the hostel owner’s generous hospitality and remarkably spiked with the company of a gaggle of friendly hikers who showed up to duck some nasty storms.

Gently stir (not shake) it up over a couple of days and guess what? Total rejuvenation. Mental over haul complete! Back on the trail and ready for the next challenge.

Cue the bugles. Charge! Never quit on a bad day, right?

Who says zero has no value? Sometimes a zero or two can be the difference between success and failure. What’s that worth?

Virtual Reality. Hiking the AT by correspondence course.

July 30, 2013 / jim fetig / Leave a comment

A lot of people would love to thru hike the Appalachian Trail (AT), but they just can’t find the time or the money to do it when they want. There has to be an alternative to having to wait until retirement.

Recently colleges and university professors started offering MOOCs. (Massive Open Online Courses) MOOCs remind me of the old days when students took college courses by correspondence if, for some reason, they couldn’t be present on campus.

Maybe it’s time to think outside the hiker box and solve this dilemma.

If you can’t hike the AT for real, how about doing it by correspondence course? You could make it legit with reading, quizzes and simulated practical exercises such as practicing PUDs (pointless ups and downs) and learning how to stumble and fall while freezing, baking and boiling?

Imagine what the AT correspondence course might be like. Cue the dream sequence music….

It’s late winter. You’ve registered, and there you are anxiously awaiting arrival of your course materials. You hitch or hike to your local post office. Hey Mr. Postman! Look and see. Is there a letter or package for me?

Lesson One: Reading Material. Find a cell phone provider that radiates one bar in your area. On that phone, read a dozen Trail Journal blogs every day. Fill out the quiz you will receive by email by typing long answers with your pfat thumbs. You get bonus points for doing it while standing in the rain or snow.

Later, the doorbell rings. You look out side. Looming in your driveway is a ginormous Terex MT6300 dump truck. It carries 400 tons in a single load!

Just your luck. Today it’s brimming with specially sharpened and oiled Pennsylvania-grade hiking stones.

Lesson Two: Terrain. The MT6300 dumps a mountain right there on your driveway. Leave it be. It’s for practicing PUDs. But, do spread some of the extra stones a foot deep over half of your yard. You’ll be having your sleep on the rocks for the next six months.

Dig up the other half of your yard and turn it into a swamp. Don’t forget to wet the rocks frequently and scatter the rubber snakes found in the miscellaneous parts package.

Of course you scrounged up everything on the equipment list.

Lesson Three: Drinking water. Find a mud puddle and fill your water bottles. Add two Aqua Mira pills to each. Wait 30 minutes, then drink.

Just a little later, a muddy brown UPS food truck pulls up with cases of dehydrated oatmeal, spaghetti and jars of peanut butter, tortillas, pop tarts, and Knorr noodles with tuna. Yummy!

Lesson Four: Indoor environmental simulation. This is the one time you’re allowed inside. Put on your rain gear. Prepare a meal and go into your bathroom. Eat the meal while standing in a cold shower. It’s also the last shower you’re ever going to get.

Lesson Five: Blogging. Write a Trail Journal blog about how great the meal tasted and how much fun you’ve had so far.

Obviously, the course is just warming up. With each passing weekend you hike or hitch to the post office for new lessons. Why mail? WIFI and cell phone connectivity is iffy out on the trail. We need to simulate as much realism as possible. That’s why you can’t take this course on line.

Let’s fast forward. Weeks pass. You hike up, down and all around your rock pile for eight hours every day. Your feet blister. Toe nails turn black and fall off. Finally spring arrives.

Lesson 75: Flora and fauna. Plant your yard full of the poison ivy you received by FEDEX. Set out pots of stagnant water. Time for the mosquitos and ticks. When nature calls, good luck with that.

And so it goes on endlessly. Each night after work, every weekend, your two-week vacation, month in and month out. In circles you march.

Lesson 82: Mud flopping. Practice falling into the muddy part of your yard while wearing your pack. Roll over and do it again, and again, and again. Extra points for breaking your hiking poles.

Those special high quality Pennsylvania rocks shred your boots. You fall. Ankles and knees twist, yet you persevere endlessly onward in the rain, sleet, snow, humidity and burning summer sun. You even have to climb an extension ladder and hike over your roof a few times.

Each night you file a blog post about your wonderful experiences. Once a week on the way to or from the post office you stop at Mickey D’s to pig out on burgers and fries just like a real hiker.

Last Lesson: Climb to the top of your rock pile. Take stereotypical photo with cardboard Katahdin sign facsimile and declare victory!

If you enjoyed the shower sequence, you’re qualified. Sign right up.

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.

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