Appalachian Trail

CARRY AND WEARY INVENTORY

My beginning inventory. Click on "Download File" to view it in your browser.

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LAST MINUTE N0TES

I leave next week. April Fools is a fitting date for this fool's folly.

I will post my backpack inventory here before I depart; it includes everything in my backpack and on my body--my "Carry and Weary" weight. I also plan to publish a similar list when I finish. The comparison should be interesting.

Hikers are intoxicated by hi-tech products; much like the boating world I come from. Some products are transferable and I brought some things from the boat; in fact, much of my clothing came from there, but over the last couple of years, I purchased other equipment more attuned to hiking and backpacking. Because of the long lead-time, I was able to take advantage of discounted pricing and the savings was significant. Nevertheless, as my departure date inched closer, I found myself haunting the outfitter catalogs and retail stores; not buying anything, just looking for that one thing I was sure I forgot.

Whether on land or water, you need a compass and it helps to have a reference point. On water, we call them charts; on land, they are maps, although I noticed Maptech has adopted the term "chart" for all of its products and I will stick with that. Charts come in two flavors, paper and electronic. The Global Positioning System revolutionized navigation; now you can carry digitized charts on a display unit the size of a cell phone that will track your progress all over the globe. I have a GPS, but why anyone would need that hi-tech horsepower to hike a well-marked path like the Appalachian Trail is beyond me. However, there is no arguing the need for a compass; or charts, which show side trails, roads and other navigational aids. (Weather and fatigue can play havoc with your sense of direction.)

I toyed with the idea of carrying electronic charts, but I don't have a GPS or other display unit capable of storing the enormous data files required to cover the entire Appalachian Trail, and purchasing, manipulating and protecting multiple memory cards is an expensive hassle I don't want to deal with. Besides, I don't like reading charts on a small screen.

Instead, I am taking paper charts, over 40 in total. As a group, they are too bulky and heavy to carry all at once and I will divide them into manageable segments, carrying only the charts for the section I am hiking and mailing the others ahead. I resisted mail drops until the last minute, because I didn't want to be constrained by a schedule, but I could not think of a reasonable alternative for handling charts, so…here I am.

I found a Suunto Vector watch at a fire-sale price and I couldn't resist. It displays more information than I would ever want to know; time, date, compass bearing, altitude, barometric pressure, temperature and some other stuff I can't think of now (the manual is 60 pages). I'm wearing the watch for two reasons: the big display and the easy-to-read compass bearing; it is very handy for that. Maybe I'll learn to use the other stuff before the hike ends.

Food is a big deal. 2,100 miles requires huge amounts of calories and thru-hikers must steadily stoke the furnace. There is a constant trade-off between a nutritious diet and the extra weight of packing large quantities of food. For example, I'm starting with nine pounds of grub which should last about six days. Some hikers purchase ingredients in bulk, parcel them into individual packages, and get a friend or family-member to mail drop the food ahead of them. Others, like me, wing it, and depend on stores located near the trail to replenish their food inventory, but that system comes with its own set of problems. First, you have to get to the store, which involves more hiking (or hitchhiking) and of course, that means time off the trail. In addition buying as you go may be more expensive than using mail drops, although there doesn't seem to be a clear-cut answer to that; too many variables with both systems. I will write more about food after I've been on the trail for a while.

Water is a big deal too, but in a different way. We had a snowy winter with plenty of precipitation, and there should be ample water along the way, but to be safe you must treat it before you drink it. There are three options for that: treat the water with iodine or chemicals, wait 30 minutes, hold your nose, and drink. (Depending on the brew, the taste and odor can be offensive.) Alternatively, carry a filter and/or purifier which when used with a pump, squeezes the guts out of the little bacteria devils. Lastly, boil it, a sure-fire solution, but one that requires fuel. I have a good water filter, and I'm carrying chemical tablets for backup.

Pooping in the woods is a natural thing to do, just watch out for poison ivy and other unfriendly plants; and bury your waste. Baby wipes are a Godsend. I use them for everything, not only wiping my butt, but for cleaning other parts of my body. I have used a few privies on the AT and I've read about the deplorable conditions in others No thanks; I will go where the bears go.

I moved my departure point again, farther north to the Delaware Water Gap. I decided that since I was walking south, I should leave from as far north as reasonable considering the weather this time of year, and I picked Delaware Water Gap, PA, because I have the charts for Pennsylvania and Maryland (I will buy the others when I get to Harpers Ferry). The more I thought about leaving from the Delaware Water Gap, the more appealing it became; Delaware Water Gap is 270 miles from Harpers Ferry, and it will be a nice shakedown hike for me. By the time I walk into Harpers Ferry, I will have learned some things about my gear and myself. There I can pick up more charts from the Appalachian Trail Conference and send the used ones home. And there is a well-stocked outfitter in Harpers Ferry, a good place to make adjustments. So, my third and final plan is baked.

POCKET PC SPRINT PCS TEST

This is a test to see if I can post to my AT weblog from my Pocket PC. Im taking it mainly for updating this journal, but secondarily for safety, although the likelihood that I would be within tower range in an emergency is problematic.

How I will keep the battery charged is another story, which I may have written about already, can't remember, but I will be writing more about that as I go along.

This message is being sent via Sprint PCS cellular to a special email address Typepad gave me for wireless transmissions. Its unclear to me how formatting will come through; guess Ill find out when I get to a PC and read it. And Im purposely sending this from a marginal signal-strength area which I anticipate will be the norm for this hike (when I can get a signal at all).

SETBACK FOR "BEAR MEAT"

Well…I missed February 29. My new departure date is the week of March 23. Note how I slipped from a specific date to a week-wide window.

I am not too, too bothered by the delay, but it caused me to change my plans. I do not want to depart from Springer (with the mob) in late March and I decided to flip-flop. I will start in Harpers Ferry and hike south to Springer; then take AMTRAK and Greyhound to Katahdin and hike south from there to Harpers Ferry. The beleagured AMTRAK is a lifesaver for my AT flip-flop with stations conveniently located in Gainesville, GA and Harpers Ferry. Katahdin is in the middle of nowhere, but I can AMTRAK to Portland and bus it from there to Katahdin (Medway, ME).

In addition to hiking against the grain, and the crowds, it will remove the pressure for me to get to Katahdin before September 15. I will be hiking south the entire trip.

Today, I met another thru-hiker through a mutual friend. His name is Dave Nikkel and he is leaving from Springer March 8. We will be hiking toward each other and hope to connect somewhere. As I write this, Dave does not have a trail name.

I picked a trail name tonight. Everyone I know had the same reaction when I told them I was thru hiking the Appalachian Trail, “Aren’t you afraid of the bears?” “Bear Meat” came to mind and I couldn’t shake it. I figure after about a week, my odor will repel even the bears, and so I feel safe with my selection, but if it is my fate to be eaten by a bear, I can take comfort in the fact that I contributed a little protein to a beautiful animal. (Of course, if I really thought that I would change my trail name to something else...or stay home.)

I’m ready to go except for a few last minute purchases. I don’t have all of the charts (maps) for the AT and I am ordering more from the ATC on Monday. There are about 50 charts in total and as a group they are bulky and heavy. I will break them up into small bunches that weigh about a pound each and send them ahead on the trail with my mail drops. I’m raiding Costco next week for large quantities of trail mix, which I will also send ahead in manageable quantities.

I talked to Shenandoah National Park officials yesterday and they told me Elkwallow Gap and Big Meadow Wayside will open on April 2nd. That helps to break up the 100-mile journey through the park. The northern boundary of the park is only about 60 miles from Harpers Ferry.

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.)

2003 - THE LOST YEAR

The Appalachian Trail did not happen for me in 2003. Several things interfered, and I put my plan on hold with 2004 as the new target. A year passed and physically I am no more prepared than I was in 2002. Terrible. I am ashamed.

However, I am a little more knowledgeable about the AT. I studied myself silly and altered my clothing and gear accordingly. Some of my clothing and gear comes from the boat and I know what to expect from that stuff. Other things I've tested on hikes and depending on the results, added to or discarded from my inventory. Still, I have too much stuff and I expect I will end this hike with a very different inventory than I started with.

BATONA TRAIL HIKE

October 2002. I slacked off for 2-3 months waiting on my knee to improve, but I became antsy when the cool fall weather arrived. (I am a cold weather jock. I jogged for years and I generally felt best when the temperature was around 35-40 degrees.) I perused my extensive maps inventory and picked a trail in New Jersey for my next knee test. The Batona Trail, about 50 miles in length is part of the Wharton Forest located in the New Jersey Pinelands; sounded good to me.

October 4th. I drove to Batsto, NJ and arrived there about 17:00. I hoisted my 35 lb pack on my back and started out on the yellow trail, which meanders near the Mullica River, and I arrived at the Mullica River Campsite about 18:00. A short hike, but my knee felt good. Mullica River is a "wilderness camp." You must hike in; no cars, bikes, etc., allowed. I was the only one there, and in fact, something I only realized later, I did not meet another hiker on the trail for four days. The campsite is on the bank of the river, and it includes a fresh water pump and two privies. I set up my tent, and then I cranked up the stove and heated water for my entrée, Mountain Home Macaroni & Beef. Dessert was a Power bar & coffee.

October 5th. There were a couple of showers last night, but nothing heavy. I slept late and did not emerge until 08:30. I popped my knee leaving the tent; an ominous sign, but no lasting pain. Breakfast was a bag of Natural high Granola and coffee. I like the freeze-dried Granola, because it is easy to prepare; simply add water and stir, but it is expensive; $3.50 for a cereal breakfast. A little rich, I think, but all of the freeze-dried food is expensive; the dinners are double that price. The Granola is very filling and a good meal to start the day with. I was filling my water bottles from the campsite pump when I heard a noise, and looked up to see a Forest Ranger approaching in his 4x4. We waved and he did not stop. A visual check I assumed; The Wharton Forest has strict rules for using the campgrounds, and I had made advance reservations for my stay there.

I departed at 10:30 for the Lower Forge campsite. I missed the trail for cutting across to the Batsto River and to Lower Forge and when I discovered my navigation error, I was too far along to turn back; I continued on North on the yellow trail and I arrived at the Atsion campground at 15:00. I had hiked about 6-7 miles from Mullica River and my knee hurt; I decided to spend the night there.

October 6th. 08:00. It was chilly last night and I needed my sleeping bag. A rooster woke me earlier. I slept in for another hour and enjoyed the early morning sounds; birds, crickets, and a second rooster, crowing a different melody. Coffee time, then plan today's hike.

I departed Ation @ 12:00 on a sandy road—no trail. I met several horse and buggy riders and I assumed there was an event scheduled for the area, but when I stopped and talked to one of the buggy riders, she told me no, that it was simply a good place to ride and that there were always horse and buggy rider groups out on nice weekends. I asked her if I could feed her Shetland pony and she said yes. I put some trail-mix in my hand and held it out for his inspection. He greedily licked it off my palm, but I stupidly stuck my finger in his mouth and he bit me. A gentle bite (for him), but he would not let go. I had visions of rushing to the emergency room with my severed finger, or worse, watching it disappear down his throat, but after licking and chewing the last morsel of trail-mix off my appendage, he released it.

I passed horseback riders too and I spooked one of the horses. The owner said it was my backpack. After that, I stood to the side of the road until they passed.

I arrived at the Quaker Road Bridge (4.2 miles) at 13:30 and stopped for a break. I watched three kayakers pass under the bridge. It is beautiful there.

I arrived at Lower Forge, on the Batsto River, at 14:15. No one was there, and I had the place to myself. I stripped and soaked up the last of the sun’s rays. It felt good this late in the year. Then I read Oleander.

Later, about dark, I heard a strange call, like an owl, but different. He repeated it once.

It was cooler that night and I wore my long pants to bed. Later my strange bird friend serenaded me again. It is a strange feeling to be alone in the forest at night. The sounds are amplified especially the ones close-by; a squirrel scampering on the leaves can sound like a moose coming through the woods. The trees shut out the moon and the stars, and the night sky is like a dark blanket. Unsettling at first, but later it is beyond peaceful; you do not want to return to civilization.

October 7th. I broke camp at 09:30 and hiked for about 1.5 miles, when I decided I did not want to backtrack tomorrow and return to the same camp, and I turned around and headed south for Batsto, about 12 miles away. I arrived in Batsto at 16:00, tired and with a nice blister on my left foot; I think my boots are a ½ size too large. I changed my campsite reservations, jumped in the car and drove back to the Atsion family campground and a hot shower that night.

October 8th. I spent the day reorganizing my backpack and re-thinking my long-range plans. I was very tired yesterday after only 4 days of hiking. I cannot carry that much weight; certainly not in the mountains. I must get in shape—serious condition—and re-evaluate my planning assumptions about what is, and is not necessary to carry on a thru-hike. I have a lot of work to do.

DELAWARE WATER GAP HIKE

August 2002. When my pet-sitting assignment ended, I left Sambuca's house and headed for the Delaware Water Gap, but I departed late and it was dark before I reached my objective. At 10:30 PM, I found myself driving alongside the old barge canal that parallels the Delaware River. I spied a bridge over the canal, and I crossed over and parked in an open field, sandwiched between the canal and the river. I threw my sleeping pad on the ground and while it inflated, I fished in my backpack for my sleeping bag. There was no need for a tent (I thought); the stars were out and the heat was oppressive.

I hit the rack, anticipating a restful sleep in the privacy of my newfound campsite surrounded by water.

Zzzzzzz…Slap.

Zzzzzzz…Slap

Zzzzzzz…Slap

I had four choices.

1) Put up the tent. Too tired.
2) Lather up with Deet. Too messy and too tired to look for it.
3) Swathe myself in mosquito netting. Did not have any.
4) Sleep in the car. Yes!

When I woke up the next morning, I discovered I was only about 1/2 mile from Locks 22 & 23. I spent the day walking the canal. I passed a lot of hikers and bikers and dogs. I was the only fool lugging a 33 lb backpack, although I passed several people with daypacks, presumably loaded with picnic paraphernalia. That was not a good test of my hiking endurance, because the canal was flat and level, unlike the reality of the AT which is rocky, uneven and packed with severe ascents and descents. Nevertheless, it was a good test for my knee. Not good, it still hurt.

SAMBUCA OF THE SOFA

July 2002. For the past few days, I have been pet sitting with a large Labrador retriever named Sambuca; dry-weight, 90 pounds. Sambuca is the original couch potato, the cold hard floor being too severe for his tush. I nicknamed him Sambuca of the Sofa.

Sambuca and I take long walks, careful to stay away from the midday sun and the extreme humidity of sub-tropical Philadelphia. Sambuca of the Sofa likes to take breaks. One day, after we had walked about 3 miles, he began lagging farther and farther behind and before I knew it, I had 90 lbs of dead weight on the end of the leash. After a few minutes of fruitless urging, I stopped and poured water into his portable water bowl, and he predictably went into his normal routine (something I learned after many occurrences).

First, he stuck his nose underwater and held it there for a minute, not drinking, just hanging out underwater, and then he turned the bowl over with his paw; no water went down his throat...that, from an overheated couch potato.

I thought about the return trip—at his pace, we were about an hour from the sofa—and my options seemed slim. I could call a cab, but surely, the taxi would not carry a 90-pound dog. I could not carry a 90-pound dog. The 90-pound dog could not carry himself. What to do?

We camped under a tree and after awhile the shade cooled him off. When we started back; I slowed my pace and after many rest stops and "turn the bowl over" water breaks, we made it home.

What does this have to do with the Appalachian Trail? I don't know. “Hike at my own pace,” maybe?