Appalachian Trail

WHY AM I DOING THIS?

Someone asked, “Why are you doing this?”

I said, “It's the election, stupid. I will miss six months of boring political ads and nauseating analysis. If possible, I will find a way to extend my hike beyond November 2."

As I prepare to depart, Howard Dean has resigned; another good reason for me to slink away. A few months ago, I naively wrote that Governor Dean would win the nomination and could win the Presidency. I hope that I am a better hiker than a political prognosticator. Nevertheless, I miss Howard already. I have a soft spot for fringe candidates; I liked Perot, I liked Nader, I liked Anderson and McCarthy and McGovern, and I loved Goldwater—more than a fringe candidate, Barry was the nominee—but I did not vote for any of them. I wish I had voted for Goldwater, but I was too young and liberal then; besides, that mushroom cloud scared the hell out of me.

The economy is recovering, albeit in a herky-jerky fashion, and if you believe the reports coming out of Washington—a stretch, I admit—unemployed workers are slowly, but steadily finding new jobs. That is not good enough for some.

The Democrats wallow in jobs lost, not jobs found; how else can they unseat the incumbent? They bemoan the jobs shipped to India and to other offshore locales with lower wages and often better work habits. I have a question: Why do the loudest protesters of jobs moving offshore, buy all of their stuff from the China outlet store, i.e., Wal-Mart?

Union leaders wallow and bark about worker's rights, but not the worker who removes the plate from their table at The Palm.

John F. Kerry wants George W. Bush's job. By the way, speaking of the new JFK, how can a person smile and look sad at the same time?

Theresa Heinz Kerry--sans hyphen--wants Laura Bush's job. (Some states have laws about the hyphen, the hymen too if you are underage.)

Hillary also wants President Bush’s job. Of course, Bill wants his old job back, even if only officially as Hillary's consigliore.

On a more serious note for Washington watchers, Mark Brunell wants Patrick Ramsey's job, and everyone wants Joe Gibbs to keep the job he returned to, but The Danny has a lighter hair-trigger than Dirty Harry. The air is electric.

In New York, the air is full of money. All of it is going into A-Rod’s pocket; part of it coming from his old team, the Texas Rangers and the rest of it from George’s pocket, which is the same pocket as the New York Yankees, the two pockets long ago becoming indistinguishable.

Martha’s pockets are lighter by a k-zillion or so. Martha likes her job and she wants to keep it, but the prosecutor has another job in mind for her, serious housekeeping at the Allenwood Conference Center in bucolic White Deer PA. She will not like the smock frock. However, she will be in good company when her friends from Adelphia, Enron, Tyco, and WorldCom arrive. Perhaps they will start an investment club.

Over at the UN, the Secretary-General placidly monitors the killing in Iraq, Israel, the West Bank, Gaza, Sudan, Chechnya, Haiti, the Congo, blah, blah, blah; a lot of jobs there for U.N. peacekeepers.

I do not have a job and so I am about to depart for 6 months of misery on the Appalachian Trail. I leave you with a question:

If Kofi Annan and Bud Selig traded jobs, would anyone notice?

HORSESHOE TRAIL HIKE

January 2004. Both of my backpacks are deficient. One is too flimsy for my moderately heavy load, and the other is too heavy for my moderately heavy load. I cannot get my pack weight down to a level that accommodates my shapeless, frameless Pound Plus Equinox pack. Conversely, my larger Gregory Shasta pack, at 6+ lbs is too heavy, and the cavernous interior encourages my packrat tendencies, which only adds weight.

I reevaluated my needs and considering my inexperience on the trail, I decided to err on the heavy side. In other words, I will take the Gregory Shasta on the Appalachian Trail and embark with too much stuff, but I will not know what “too much” is until I hike for a few weeks—or a few days. I hate myself, but I cannot decide what to leave out.

I will hike south to north, starting on Springer Mountain, Georgia February 29, 2004 (a great leap in a leap year). I will hike myself into shape. I assume the first days and weeks will be hell, but after that break-in period, everything should fall into place.

Today I am in Philadelphia where there is 5”-6” inches of fresh snow on the ground on top of hardened ice and snow from previous snowfalls this winter. I am hiking today because I want to test some equipment I have never used in the snow before, including my Nike Gortex boots and Marmot waterproof jacket.

I selected the Horseshoe Trail for my hike. The trailhead is on Yellow Springs Road in Valley Forge National Park about 50 yards from the covered bridge that crosses Valley Creek at the intersection with Route 252. There is a parking lot at the trailhead. The trail rises steeply for about ¾ mile until you reach the ridge that runs parallel to Valley Creek and Route 252. From there the trail runs west across Pennsylvania for 140 miles where it meets the Appalachian Trail, but on this day I was out for a short jaunt.

I was carrying 37 lbs including the Gregory pack, and to simulate the weight of 3-4 days of food supplies, 8 lbs of food and 2 pounds of water. The 37 pounds total included everything except the trekking poles and the clothes I was wearing. The temperature was 20 degrees with a light snow drizzle. The trail had some footprints left by earlier travelers, but for the most part, I was walking on virgin snow, unable to see what was underneath.

The first surprise came when I donned my pack. The pack was missing a hip-belt buckle. I knew the buckle was missing and I borrowed one from my other pack before I left, but when I attempted to fasten the belt, the buckles did not match. Stupid mistake; I should have tested them before I hit the trail. Now I had no choice but to hike without hip-belt support and I left the belt hanging loose on both sides. All of the weight was on my shoulders; not a good plan for a large pack designed to transfer weight to the hips, but I had no choice.

The ascent was tough. I am definitely out of shape and I had to stop on the way up to rest. It was a peaceful morning on the trail; very quiet and very beautiful with the landscape covered in snow. I hiked along for about a mile until I came to the trail register and I opened the box and signed the book.

I continued on the ridge until I came to a Y in the trail and I took the right fork that led down to Valley Creek. The descent was steeper than the ascent and the trekking poles came in handy as I gingerly walked down the side of the hill, careful to step on what appeared to be flat surfaces.

I heard a noise and I looked across the ravine hoping to spot a deer when my left foot slipped on the ice and I lost my balance. I reached out to grab the tree in front of me, but when I lunged forward I felt the weight of the pack swing my body outward and without anything to hold onto, I teetered over and fell sideways down the ravine. The first thing that hit was my hip—on a rock. The pain was excruciating, but I had other things to worry about. By that time, I was sliding down the ravine on my back, the weight of the pack acting like the keel on a sailboat. I could not right myself and all I could do was wave my arms and legs like an overturned turtle as I slalomed down the face of the hill. The pack caught on something and I stopped. I was wedged against a protruding boulder, but still on my back—or backpack. I caught my breath and looked around to get my bearings. The pack had a tenuous grip on the edge of the boulder and if it slipped off, I would slide to the bottom of the ravine where there was a crevice of frozen water. My weight would probably break through the ice; not good.

I decided to secure myself before I attempted to get out. I planted my trekking poles—thankfully still wrapped to my wrists—in the snow and dug in. The trekking poles acted as brakes and I was able to spin around, roll over and get up on my knees, and then to my feet. From there it was a matter of climbing back to the trail; a slow, slippery climb. I could not have made it out without the trekking poles. When I got back on the trail, I carefully walked down the switchbacks to Valley Creek and from there it was an easy hike back to the trailhead.

This was my first experience backpacking in the snow. After today, 2,167 miles seems longer.

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The next morning the pain in my hip was intense and I could not walk. (It took about a week to work through that, but my hip repaired itself.)