My cousin recently asked for my advice on buying a backpack. My mind engaged, my fingers began typing, but I had to stop. I quickly realized that I was about to write a book about it, all within a tiny Facebook chat window. For this reason, I’ve decided to talk about it here.

I’ve learned a lot from other people about gear, and I will link the sources I found most integral in my research. I’m going to be pretty unapologetic about my feelings (because they are actually facts, learned from experience) on this topic. While I did not finish the AT, 1700 miles exposed me to many other hikers, and their stuff.

What did I really learn after living on trail for 133 days? Just as Robert Frost summed up the whole of his life experience with “it goes on;” I too found a succinct, and simple answer:

“It doesn’t matter!”

No, really. It doesn’t matter, so don’t worry about it too much!

Every new hiker gets hung up on this subject, without understanding a few underlying facts, which are really only understood with experience.

Fact One, Weight: You’re going to carry too much weight on your first few trips. Everyone does! Later on, as you build confidence, you might even carry too little weight. Both of these extremes are uncomfortable, but you will find your Goldilocks in time. With common sense, you won’t die in the process!

Fact Two, Confidence: Eventually, you’ll stop caring about what other people are carrying, and you’ll come to disregard critiques about your own gear choices. You’ll come to realize that you are carrying your own pack weight, just as others are carrying theirs. As long as you’re not asking others to hoof your pack for you, what does it really matter?

That Zpacks owner doesn’t like your five-pound Coleman tent? Fuck Em!

That dude with the 85-liter Kelty pack thinks he’s tougher than you, because he’s hauling more weight than you? Fuck Em!

Be confident! You are carrying your own burden, and that burden is the product of choices you’ve made. Sound familiar? Life people. Stop judging others!

Fact Three, Individuality: The most beautiful, inspiring, and wonderful thing about backpacking gear is that it’s completely unique to the owner. Ask two hikers to spill their packs, and you will never find the same exact contents.

Celebrate this! Express yourself!

On the AT I met dudes like Mule, with his dialed-in Hyperlite Mountain Gear backpack. Clean lines, nothing dangling off the back, everything in his pack was neatly stowed away.

I also met a girl named Firefly, who had the most awesome, bohemian hodgepodge of a backpack ever. A Granite Gear pack at its core, but completely her own. She had a steam-punk style leather purse attached to the hipbelt, a dream catcher, bottle opener(s), art, flags, etc. I have few regrets on the AT, and one of them was never getting a picture of that beauty (her pack that is).

In both cases, these packs reflected their owners perfectly.

So you might be asking:

“What does matter?”

What matters is knowing how to use your gear, knowing its limitations, and knowing that it fits your personal needs.

Always try your stuff out before that big trip you have planned. This seems like common sense, but so many people come out (to the AT in particular) having never set up their tent, used their stove, etc.

When you start a thru-hike you’ll have so much going on mentally, emotionally, and physically. The most basic kindness you can allow yourself, is just a tiny bit of confidence that you can set up camp. Knowing that you can perform the basic tasks of sheltering, watering, and feeding yourself with the stuff you have chosen to bring, will bring TREMENDOUS relief during those first few weeks.

In my opinion, knowing how to use your gear is VASTLY more important than physically training for your hike. Get off the treadmill, and set up camp in your (or your friend’s) backyard. Don’t worry about getting in shape for the AT, the trail itself will do that for you.

Know the limits of your gear. If your sleeping bag says it’s rated for a certain temperature, try to test it in those conditions. See how it fairs in others also. I performed many sleeping bag/pad tests on the balcony of my third-floor apartment before taking that stuff into the field. Afraid the neighbors will find you odd? Well, that’s a great exercise in confidence. Read above! Fuck em!

Know your gear fits your personal needs. One example is sleeping pads. There are people in this world who can sleep soundly on a blue foam pad from Walmart. Personally, I think all of them are lying, but hey, if I could sleep on something that durable (and inexpensive) I’d look no further.

For me, a Neo Air X-lite was my choice of pad. It’s horrendously expensive, but worth every restful minute of sleep it provided me on the AT.

Shoes and packs are very personal item choices. Disregard brand names, price, or what your friend likes. Much like the Matrix, you cannot be told what the best choice is. You have to feel it for yourself.

Also, don’t underestimate the importance of quality, reliable clothing. Take the time to do some research. Thankfully, you don’t need a lot of clothes out there, which is why care in choosing them is important.

“But you didn’t tell me what to buy?!”

No! That was my intention! Do your own research and remember that the gear between your ears is all that matters. Just don’t stress about it too much.

I will be posting some reviews of how my stuff fared, things I changed, etc. On the whole of difficulties faced during a thru-hike however, I found my load-out to be a fairly negligible part of the equation. Day to day budgeting, and managing your mental needs are far more important in the grand scheme of things.

In the meantime, you can learn a lot from these guys:

Ryan Grayson: http://ryangrayson.blogspot.com/p/advice.html

Seven: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DV4lmQU2zyQ

Andrew Skurka: andrewskurka.com/section/how-to/gear-and-supplies

 

I have many videos that were never uploaded while I was on the trail.  I’m going to post them up now that I have beautiful, unlimited wifi!

How to become a human salt-lick:

 

The small shifty-eyed one on the right kept trying to chew on my shorts, hence the sudden phobia of having my clothes eaten…  My friend Shortcut actually got nipped by one of these guys.

It was one of the most fun days I had on the AT.

Vermont had some incredible fungus.

AT Symbol on top of Bromley

Bromley!

When bored hikers find incomplete signage.

Oh there’s water here?  Oh I haven’t had breakfast yet?  This is how you turn the trail into a picnic table.

 

Only in Vermont will I drink lake water.

 

The most sketchy bridge on trail.

The view though.

My home for 4.5 months.  I wouldn’t trade it!

Composed shot.  I choked up a bit after this.

I bought one of these “Buff” things, pretty handy, makes me look like a pirate.

Post-hike body and beard.  Now to rebuild my upper-body…

I love Vermont!

We had been camped out in the McDonald’s for nearly three hours now.  We were busy charging our phones, ordering gear online, and fielding the disgusted looks of patrons who wandered too close to us and caught a whiff.

Lazy as it was, we were actually quite productive that morning.  Stumbleweed had contacted Big Agnes and had a new tent pole on the way.  I called Altra and inquired about the sizing of their Lone Peaks 2’s compared the Superior 2’s I was replacing.  In the end I went ahead and replaced what I had.

Ladybug worked out the logistics of having his winter gear sent in, and I too had some phone calls to make in that regard.  AWOL had misprinted the address of the outfitter in Hanover, NH I was trying to mail to, and UPS had placed my shipment on hold.

A half-dozen McChickens down, and feeling lethargic, I heard Sasquat mention that he needed to take a trip to the outfitter in town.  Eager to take a walk, I offered to join him.  My pack was actually at the outfitter’s, as they had offered to keep it there for me while I made my town errands that morning.  While the ladies working the morning shift at Eastern Mountain Sports were accommodating and offered great service, the men on the afternoon shift had much to learn about customer service.

Sasquat purchased some Darn Tough socks, which are the beloved standard foot-underwear of AT hikers everywhere.  Made in Vermont from a blend of synthetics and merino wool, you will not find a better hiking sock.  Their warranty is iron-clad, offering lifetime replacement in the event of wear, which justifies the sixteen to eighteen dollar price per pair.  Both pairs I took on this trip are hole-free after 900 miles each, and I’ve owned them long before the AT.

Hikers like to talk, but we found the conversation here to be curt and impatient.  Essentially shooed out of the store, I grabbed my pack from the front and left.  As we made our way back to the golden arches, we stopped to chat with two Long Trail hikers.  They warned us that previous Nobo’s had pissed off every hotel owner in town.  Supposedly all of them refused to accept hikers.  I was refused at two hotels down in Virginia for the same reason.

Safely back at our wifi enabled base of operations, we found the Long Trail hikers to be correct.  Every hotel in the guidebook was either “full” or coming in at $50+ over the listed hiker rates in the book.  One property remained, and it seemed the least likely of all to be hiker-friendly.  An indoor and outdoor pool, golf course, etc.  The guide book did not list pricing, but instructed us to call instead.  Sasquat made the call.

“Fifty-five a per person?  Okay…  We each get a queen bed?  Oh cool, the house is on the green.  So, we’re getting a house to ourselves then?  Right on!  Well thank you!”

We could not believe our ears.  To the Palmer House we walked.  Of the group, Ladybug, Sasquat, Gandalf and I decided to take up lodging.  The property had long since seen its full glory, but it was still very nice.  The ladies at the front desk mused at the opportunity to see the faces on our IDs versus how we looked now.  The surprise on their faces put a smile on ours, a badge of honor for our long miles and months.

Sure enough, they gave us a house to ourselves.  Two double rooms with a shared wrap-around porch.  It was the best lodging value I had had on trail.  Gandalf and Ladybug took one room, and Sasquat and I took the other.  I opened a closet and was delighted to find an iron.  I produced the North Face button-down I purchased in Waynesboro, VA, and set to work.  Just because I am hiker-trash, does not mean I need to look like hiker-trash all of the time.

Sasquat emerged from the shower, saw my task and raised an eyebrow.  A thru-hiker ironing a shirt?  I can understand his surprise.  While I hate this activity in normal life, the two or three times I got to iron this shirt on trail left me with a sense of pride, and frankly, control of my situation.

Soon enough we found the loaner clubs, and were on the green hitting balls.  I’ve never played golf before, but Gandalf was a patient teacher.  He’s also a fellow iaidoka.

“Why aren’t your wrists breaking?  Oh I see.  Dirty Girl, stop holding it like a katana…”

We had a lot of fun.  Ladybug made a beer run, and we made our way around the course with a large brown paper bag full of Budweiser.  After nine-holes we were pretty buzzed and feeling quite satisfied with the place.  We went out for food and called it a night.

One of the best things about the AT, is that you never know how a day might end!

 

 

I will be spending this first week back in “civilization” on my bike and with my sword.  Long Sensei teaches that the sword is a barometer, and often ripples in life will be noticeable in your technique, before the full wave is upon you.  I’ve found this to be very true in my studies.

After four and a half months on the trail, I am hoping the lax feeling in my shoulders will help my technique improve.

I am hoping to enjoy new fitness on my bike, and a welcome change from hiking every day.  Essentially, I’m trying to take my time in getting back to the daily grind, and not rush into the wrong job.

I’ll be working on some fun and hopefully informative posts for anyone wanting do a thru-hike in the future.

If anyone wants to go backpacking or biking within the next two weeks or so, please let me know!

I walked into the bathroom.  My brother-in-law had purchased soap, shampoo, epsom salts, a loofa, tooth paste, and a toothbrush for me.  The items were arranged neatly on the counter top.  When my eyes assessed them, my first thought was “trail magic!” and I literally broke down into tears.

I was completely overwhelmed by this simple kindness, and equally grateful to be among family.  I knew the roof overhead was solid, and would not be stripped from me at 11am, like so many others had been before.  My tears continued as I bathed.  I thought as I so often had, about the baptismal back into society.  Hopefully, this would be the last one for a while.

Roughly forty hours previous, I walked out of the hostel atop the Yellow Deli in Rutland, VT.  The course of events which brought me back here will be exposed for inspection someday, but not today.  Game Warden informed me that I had left my shoes here, and so I came, arriving around ten in the morning.  I met the Twelve Tribes member who helped me the night before (sadly, I cannot remember his name at this time) in the hallway.  I shook his hand firmly and thanked him for his help during the wee hours of that morning.

Casper had my shoes, and Game Warden asked me about the events of the previous night.  I told her I was probably off trail at this point.  The Twelve Tribes member gave me a generous helping of food for the road, and despite repeated invitations for me to stay, I knew I had to be on my way.

I left the hostel, but paused for a moment outside.  Realizing how hungry I was, I dove into the bag of goods, and wolfed down two bananas.  Game Warden came down to check on me.  I told her I was going to try and get myself together, and get back on trail, but she knew it was goodbye.  We bid farewell and she went back upstairs.

After this, I decided the trail was worth one more try.  I resupplied at Walmart, and took the bus out to Killington where I left off.  It didn’t feel right.  I found a field, one I camped in a couple nights ago, and took a lengthy nap.

When I woke, my intentions were clear.  I walked across the road to the Inn at the Long Trail, hoping to get a ride.  I was invited to sign their log book, which I did, and dated 9/3.  In the comments section, I simply could not write down that I was leaving the trail.  The pen was poised, but I could not write the words.

Three hitches got me to the bus station in White River Junction, the driver of each leg congratulating me on my accomplishment.  Soon I boarded a series of buses headed for my sister in Columbia, where I was greeted by the kindness described above.

I made it a bit over 1700 miles before calling it.  I have much more to write, so stay tuned if you care to.

To those who question why I left the trail, I leave the account above.  When your mental state is so eroded that you cry at the sight of hygiene products, it’s time to go home.  When you miss your family to the point of tears, yet push past that for weeks on end, it’s time to go home.  I had roughly 485 miles left.

I will bag the Whites, Washington, and Katahdin.  A mantra I developed early on for myself on the trail was to “take care of myself today, so that I can have a tomorrow.”  This justified every hostel stay, shower, meal, etc.  All of them seemed needlessly extravagant at the time.

The truth is, each of those peaks will be there tomorrow; long after all of my tomorrows are gone.  I will face them in the future.  Now it’s time to take the best care of myself, so I can give them my best, when the moment is right.

My intention in writing this has been to be honest about the realities of my thru-hike.  In reality, very few make it.  This will not be my last thru-hike.

Words cannot accurately express the gratitude I have for having taken this journey.  So many people ask:

“Are you hiking alone?”

The beautiful thing is, no one does.  I have been bestowed such innumerable kindnesses in the past four-plus months, I often wonder if my karma will ever recover.  This has been the single most challenging, wonderful, soul-wrenching, and rewarding experience of my life.

If you’ve ever desired to do a thru, just do it.  At the worst, you’ll make a friend and learn a few things along the way.  Why not go for it?

Thank you for reading as always!

 

 

 

A few days ago, while hiking through ankle-deep mud, Gandalf told us about some advice he was given early on the trail.

“You see, I was told that the first seven hundred miles are about the physical body. The second seven hundred are about the mental aspects, and the third is about the soul.”

I’ve been thinking on this for days. A challenge like this has to be compartmentalized in phases, less one lose their sanity. While I agree with the categories above, I feel that they are all overlapping all of the time, in varied levels of concentration. Crossing the Smokies was a very mental and emotional time for me. There were many times where I thought about everyone I had wronged in my life. Other hikers I’ve talked to have had the same experience.

“I love you, thank you, please forgive me.”

This is a mantra Pretzel used to repeat while he hiked. When we separated at the NOC that rainy morning, I adopted it as well. About halfway through the Smokies I ascended a ridge with this mantra and literally burst into tears when I reached the top of the mountain. I wanted nothing more than to call Tracy, and ask for forgiveness, but my phone was blessedly out of service at the time.

I’ll be picking up my divorce papers in Killington the day after tomorrow. When she told me she was sending them, I got angry. Not for what they were, or what they represented, but simply for the intrusion on my trail life. I wanted to wait till after Katahdin to deal with this. How incredibly selfish of me. I still had the nerve to be curt and pretentious on the phone.

It’s this very lack of consideration to her feelings that got us here. I’ve realized now that I should have thanked her instead, for taking the initiative on this. It was difficult for her to do this, really difficult in fact. Instead I responded like an angry child. Sad that it’s taken this trip for me to become fully aware of how much of an asshole I’ve been to her for so many years. Maybe this is that “soul” part of the trip.

I’m ready to bring this journey to a close. Five weeks of cruising, I will make it. Tomorrow the distance to Katahdin will have a four before the last two digits. The trail will teach what it will though, and class is far from dismissed.

I found Gandalf’s solo camp spot this morning, and sat with him for a while. We mused about what our emotions might be like upon summiting that final mountain. The only thing we decided with certainty, was that it really didn’t matter. The only wrong feeling would be indifference. I’m probably going to bawl my eyes out, and that’s okay.

More often I’m getting asked about how I’m getting home. The truth is that I don’t know, and I know better than to try to know this far out. Planning more than two days ahead of anything out here is disastrous. Maybe I’ll hitchhike, maybe I’ll share a car or get a bus. The trail will provide, and staying open leads to adventure. Why worry?

I still have five hundred miles to clear. I still have things to see, people to meet, and much to learn. The last one there wins, and oddly, I already find myself missing the trail. That doesn’t even make sense, but there it is.

Sometime in October I will be headed back to Woodstock. I’m moving in with my friend and brother Tyler. There will be space for me to swing my sword, shoot some arrows, and build things. I’ll be finding work of some kind, and going to night school for welding. Somewhere in there I will be making trips down to Florida to see my sword teacher. Within two years I want to move to PA and train with Long Sensei full time. Every single night on trail I’ve dreamt about training at Hombu. I might pursue a degree in Japanese history.

Kind of an odd post, but an accurate representation of where my head is at. Now to sleep and pull twenty in the morning. Here’s hoping my shoes can make it till the new pair in Hanover!

HiC Trail Magic.  It was really tough to only drink one.