Post-Hike Reflection

Before I started this hike, I wanted to accomplish certain tasks. I was mostly successful.

I successfully accomplished on the AT:

• Hike in a different state
• Mail supplies to myself
• Carry all my supplies I would need for a week
• Sleep in a tent on the trail
• Sleep in a shelter on the trail
• Collect water from a natural spring
• Be on the receiving end of trail magic
• Be on the giving end of trail magic
• Get the "hiker walk"
• Meet great people

I did not accomplish on the AT:

• Stay in a hostel
• Hitchhike
• Get the "hiker smell"
• Stay on the trail for a month
• Earn a trail name

I do plan to return to the trail, even if to hike small sections at a time. I am so glad I did it. After ten years of wanting to do this, I can say that I hiked part of the Appalachian Trail.

Now, I'm off the trail to go to a job interview to hopefully get a fresh start in a new city.  

Why do people do this?!?

Not only is hiking the AT a challenge (and a lot of people like challenges), and not only is it beautiful scenery, but the #1 reason people hike the trail is the people.

I read that AT people are the nicest people, that locals will put up hikers for the night in their homes for no/little cost, and the interactions with other hikers is the most rewarding component of hiking the AT. I can now attest to this. I enjoyed my experience overall, but the people I met were the most rewarding and memorable.

I met thru-hikers, section hikers, and slack packers. I met single people hiking alone (like me), couples, siblings, friends hiking together. I met retirees, a kid fresh out of high school, and every age in between. I met people from all over the US, including Missouri, Vermont, Connecticut, Florida, New York, and Massachusetts, and one person from Canada.

The thru-hikers I met were, by far, the most interesting. Each one had been on the trail since Georgia, for about four months, before meeting me in Vermont. They were nearing the end, with only 500 miles left of the 2100 mile trail, headed to Maine. I came to one resounding conclusion by the end of my hike: these people are crazy. They hike 20-30 miles a day, rain or shine, fueling themselves as they go, making friends along the way. Two thru-hikers I met had never hiked before this trip. They bought all their gear online, got a ride to Springer Mountain, Georgia, and just started walking. Four months later, there they were, in Vermont. They were sore and tired but just kept walking. Once thru-hiker I met said, "At this point, as long as I can get food, I can keep walking." I wonder where on the trail he is today.

The generosity on the AT was unlike anything I have seen. I saw people freely give up medicine, food, supplies, etc. to other hikers who might need them. Someone in my shelter the first night offered me water and helped my tie up my food. A woman, who had blisters on her feet after walking 10 miles that day, walked down the nearest stream to fill water bottles for a man who injured his leg. When a hiker's uncovered tent got caught in the rain, others went with him to help him carry in his tent and belongings inside. And everyone had just met moments earlier.

My last night on the AT was such an amazing experience, it was no accident it was how my trip ended. There were four of us in a shelter for the night, and we had all been there for a few hours before it was time to settle in for the night. We had gotten to know each other pretty well and got along famously. We shared stories, shared food, and had great laughs. I thought it couldn't get better. But it totally did.

Earlier in the day, we saw a few guys walking past the shelter (not on the AT) wearing only small backpacks.  Where could they be going? We talked to them a little bit, and they lived and worked at a "therapeutic community" down the road. We mentioned that one of us was injured, and they gave us directions to their facility if we had an emergency and needed help.

Now, as it became dark outside, we had a good fire going in the pit in front of the shelter and were still hanging out. One of the guys from the facility, David, who we saw earlier had came back to the shelter. Cool, we thought he wanted to hang out and chat. It turns out, he brought a bag of ice for our injured hiker. Super cool. And then, he brought out a large bowl of food from dinner, including a fresh salad, pineapple, buttered bread, and rice. Whaaat?!? That was a shocker. He was super friendly to begin with, and now he was being superbly generous.

And there's still more awesomeness to come.

David has a hobby of recording people's stories and setting them to music, and he asked if he could record us. (I've been a long time fan of NPR's Story Corps, so I was especially intrigued.) He set up his modest recording equipment, got out his mic, and asked us to each share a story. He had a prompt to get us going and great followup questions to keep us going. I felt so honored to hear the other hikers' touching, memorable stories, especially considering we all just met a few hours prior. After we told our stories and had great fun, David offered to play a sample of the type of music he likes to set the recordings to. Of course! He whips out his lap top -- the exact Toshiba model I am on at this moment, interestingly enough -- and plays a song. We change from laughing and being hysterically silly to being completely silent. This song is one of the prettiest songs I have ever heard. I could listen to that song for days. When it finished, we all went nuts about that song. "Where did you get it?" "Who sings it?" "Where can we download it?" Get this: David is playing the music and singing (none of us would have guessed the latter), and his girlfriend wrote it. No flippin' way. We couldn't believe it. Such talent! David offered to take down our email addresses and send us our finished stories, so we wrote down our info and gave it to him. It was all too surreal. David bid us goodnight and returned home.

Once we got settled in our sleeping bags, we kept talking about what an amazing night it had been. Great conversation, a roaring fire, fresh home-cooked food, personal stories, and beautiful music. I asked the thru-hiker who was in our group, "How often has something like that happened in the four months you've been on the trail?" He confidently replied, "Never. That was the coolest night I've had on the trail so far. Music by the fire? That never happens."

That was my last night on the AT; I hiked out in the morning for a few miles and eventually made it back to my car. The experience at that shelter on that night will stay with me for quite some time.

Heat, Rain, & Mosquitoes, OH MY!

I left heat and humidity in South Texas to do this hike. My intention was to enjoy nicer scenery and nicer weather. I was only 50% successful. Vermont is very picturesque, and the locals are very friendly, but each day of my hike experienced mid- to high-80s temperature, humidity, and mosquitoes. I religiously wore my mosquito head net every day, even sleeping in it when sleeping in a (open) shelter. Sleeping in the tent enabled better protection from the bugs, but tenting on wet ground is not fun, and packing up a wet tent in the morning after rain fall makes for a very smelly tent later. These conditions made me really reconsider doing this hike in this location and/or during this time of year. I knew I would not last for  four weeks; I would be happy to reach my supplies at the post office in Manchester Center. I figured I would reach the supplies (including my laptop!), shower and rest, and then reassess my situation to determine if I would continue the hike. After that glorious hot shower and good night sleep at the Palmer House, I did not return to the trail.  

One of the trail shelters 

Restarting in Clarendon

Still on Day 1, just south of Rutland, Clarendon provided another trail head to a section that was not as steep. Even after walking approximately four miles in Killington, I got the the trail head in the early afternoon and started walking.

The Gorge

I came to a suspended bridge and beautiful gorge, and off into the woods I went. The terrain did seem less steep, but my legs were screaming at me. I started planning this hike telling myself to not overdo it, but that's what I was doing. I was determined to not give up. I was going to sleep in my tent on the trail that night, no matter what.

It was almost four miles to the next shelter, which was my intended destination. Enjoying the hike, thunder began in the distance. And then it came closer. And closer still. Being under a healthy canopy of trees, the rain barely made it through to the ground, which was nice. Hearing and smelling rain without getting wet is pretty cool. The thunder ceased for a while, and then... it was back, with a vengance. And it was directly above me. I stopped to cover my pack and get my rain jacket on. Just in time, because it hit hard. I have never been outside in a thunderstorm until that moment.

Good news: It was still beautiful to watch the rain in the forest. Bad news: I had no idea how much farther until I reached the shelter. Bad news #2: The storm decreased my anticipated number of daylight hours and, since I "restarted" late in the day, I might run out of daylight before reaching the shelter. I will add, the shelter area had a shelter structure, a tent area, a privy, and a water source. This was where I wanted to stay the night, not in the middle of the woods. I realized that I might not make it tonight.

View from the trail

At one point, I just sat in the heavy rain. I was, of course, drenched, but hopefully items inside my pack were still dry. I won't know until I stop for the night.

I decided to keep going until it got dark, and then I would set up my tent no matter where I was. Just before dark, I saw the sign for the shelter. It was a short side trail, and there was the shelter. Success. Fortunately, three people were already there for the night, which meant I wasn't going to be alone. I decided to sleep in the shelter, which was preferable to setting up my tent in the rain. Not much conversation happened since it was so late, which was fine since I was exhausted anyway. I estimate I walked about 8 miles on Day 1.

The other hikers left pretty early the next morning with little time to chit chat, but that was the last time I encountered other people with so little conversation occurring. My encounters with everyone else I met on the trail from that morning on was a different story. I could not have predicted how amazing the following days were going to be.

Getting Started in Killington

Day 1 was July 5th, in Killington, Vermont. Why Killington? Well, I picked Vermont as my starting state based on the Appalachian Trail Conservancy recommendation to hike Vermont during June through September, and it seemed North enough to escape the warm, humid climate I had left in Texas. (There was no escape, of course, but more on that later.) On the map, Rutland was a big enough city to get a few last-minute supplies close to the trail, so I thought I would start in Rutland. Once there, however, I had a difficult time finding a good AT Guide Book in the area. I called the Green Mountain Club, the group overseeing the AT in Vermont, and they recommended Base Camp Outfitters in Killington, about a 20-minute drive away, for all my trail needs, including guide books. They were amazing, super nice, and did indeed have a great selection of maps (in addition to any other gear I might have needed, but I was all ready to go). I stayed the night in Killington on July 4 and waited for the post office to open the next morning to mail myself supplies.

Trail head

The do-I-mail-myself-supplies-or-resupply-in-stores-along-the-way debate is one which has been discussed and published by many experienced hikers. I decided, in the interest of avoiding high supply cost due to remote locations, to buy a month's worth of food, pack one week in my pack, and mail myself the remaining three. Just in case I actually do make it four weeks on the trail, you know. (I didn't. More on that later, too.) I decided, almost arbitrarily, to mail my supplies to Manchester Center, Vermont. As soon as I walked out of the post office, I thought, "Wow, I just mailed all my stuff to myself and now have to walk to go pick it up. This is really happening." I drove to the trail head and parked my car, not knowing when I would see it again. 

As I loaded up my (inconceivably heavy) pack to start the hike, I was more excited than I anticipated I would be. My plan was to take it slow, stop when needed, and be flexible. This area of Vermont had been experiencing unusually high temperatures (high 80s) and rain. That wasn't going to stop me. I was determined to walk this flippin' trail. 

As soon I got into the woods, I was in awe of its beauty. It was a little warm, a little muggy, a slight case of mosquitoes, and a little muddy from the previous day's rain. No biggie. I got this.

AT in Killington

I was walking in an uphill direction, which was alright for while. My pack was feeling heavy, so I made sure all the myriad of straps were nice and tight to ease the load. (Nothing says, "Dude, lay off the beer and bratwurst!" quite like cinching that wide lower strap around a soft midsection, let me tell ya.) 

The scenery was amazing, but I kept going more and more uphill. And uphill still. I thought about how the amount of work performed is determined by force applied across a certain distance multiplied by the cosine of the angle in the direction the work is being performed, blah blah blah. The greater the incline, the greater the amount of work required to move. I kept hoping for a section where Mr. Theta in my mental equation would be closer to zero, but it kept going up and up. Whenever I would stop and look at the path ahead, I was definitely looking upward toward the sky. Rocks were slippery, muddy sections tried to claim possession of my hiking shoes on several occasions, and I was sweating something awful. I had fully realized the effect of (1) only lightly training for this hike, (2) walking uphill when my legs were used to coastal, flat, constant zero feet above sea level terrain, and (3) adding significantly more weight via the pack. 

After two hours, realizing there was no flat ground near the trail to rest or set up my tent if I needed to stop for the day, I wondered how far I had hiked and, consequently, how much farther I had to go until I reached such a spot. I took a few short breaks by sitting on a rock, drinking water, etc. I got out my handy trail guide to reacquaint myself with my route, looking ahead on the map, and I found the next stop on the map: Mount Killington Peak.

I was walking up the side of a mountain. How did I miss this? Why did I start here? 

I had walked up almost 2000 feet in elevation, and it was going to continue. My legs were shot. I took a reality check and decided to turn around and go back down. I didn't want to risk going farther and getting stuck, so I started back down the mountain. I knew I was going slow, which was acceptable, until a family of six started coming up the trail. They blazed right past me. They were not carrying packs, which I decided was one reason why they were able to go so fast, but they also seemed to have hiked this section before. We exchanged pleasantries and up they went. I didn't think too much of it until, not long after, they started coming back down. Again, flying by. I must have been close to the peak (or summit, I'm not sure anymore) when I turned around, since they went up, made it to the top, and were coming back down. I'm carefully navigating my way down the slippery rocks and mud, and the tiny kindergartner is jumping past me in galoshes - not falling down once! - with a very sweet "Have a nice day!" and a smile. 

I am clearly out of my element and far beyond my comfort zone. 

This, of course, is one of the reasons for doing the trail, but this was ridiculous.

Two hours later, I reached the trail head and my vehicle. I estimated I walked two miles up and two miles back. Being a little disappointed that I turned around, I decided to find a better spot to start. I found another trail head on the map that had a less drastic elevation change and started driving for my "restart".

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Later, I looked up some information about where I started in Vermont using the Step-by-Step Trail Guide, which I somehow failed to consult prior to starting in Killington, and it reads:

"Between the Connecticut River and the Green Mountain National Forest, the Trail passes through high, rugged country with woods and overgrown farmlands. ... The Trail approaches treeline at Killington and Stratton mountains, and parts feature strenuous ascents." 

Nice.

July 4 in Vermont

I thought I would start the hike today, however... It is a holiday and I need to wait until tomorrow when the post office opens to mail myself supplies. (Forgot about that whole post-office-closed-on-national-holiday bit.) Fortunately, my unexpected extra time in Killington, Vermont, has resulted in (1) discovering a roadside trail that actually *gasp* crossed with the AT, including the famous white blaze and blue blaze markings, (2) finding a restaraunt/bar/laundry/internet cafe, enabling me to have 100% clean clothes before starting the trail, and (3) being invited to a fireworks display tonight with some Killington locals.

Have I mentioned that Vermont is gorgeous?

Happy July 4th!

Almost there...

Spending time during the summer in the Midwest always reminds me of summers as a kid. I was at a park in Ohio at 9pm yesterday, with dusk just starting to settle in, and I caught a glimpse of brief flashes of light. It's been a long time since I've seen lightening bugs (fireflies). I definitely went to sleep last night with the warm fuzzy feelings that only a reminder of simpler times as a child enjoying summer can bring.

On the 'gear' front, I tested my new stove this morning to boil water. After research on stoves, I decided on an Esbit stove that has two pieces: a stove and a 400mL cup included that fits neatly on top of the stove. The fuel cubes are cheap and light. The box says they burn for 12 minutes. I didn't time it - how very unscientific of me - but it did almost boil all 400mL of water with one cube. I'll be playing with this more in the upcoming days.

Niagara Falls was... interesting. The sights and sounds in New York (practically Canada) were very different than South Texas, some good and others not so much. The varied languages I heard spoken by people as I walked around are a welcome change. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't gone on the day before a holiday, which would presumably resulted in larger than normal crowds today.

Tomorrow is July 4, and I hope to enjoy some celebratory festivies in Vermont tomorrow!