Storms

From Helen:
For those of you who have seen the news lately about the record-breaking storms in the southeast this past Wednesday night, Jay is safe. He weathered out the storms overnight at an inn in Hot Springs, NC. He is approximately one day ahead of his itinerary right now, and he is doing well. We'll be restocking him again in May.

Feeding Hungry Hikers

From Helen:


Mark carrying Jay's pack into camp

Mark and I spent Friday and Saturday hiking to meet Jay and Sarah at Mt. Collins Shelter and then hiking back out to Newfound Gap with them. Our purpose, besides enjoying the outing and seeing Sarah and Jay, was to bring them Krystal Burgers.

Helen packs Krystals
in the bear vault

We packed in 30 Krystal Burgers. Twenty of them fit in our bear canister. The other 10 were strapped to my pack in a white plastic sack so that the Krystal logo couldn't be seen. We weren't as worried about bears following the scent of the burgers as we were about other hikers trying to slip a burger out of the sack if they saw what it was!



Jay on Krystal burger #10. Blair in the background

 


Sarah eating green pepper from her Krystal box



 When Jay and Sarah realized we actually had 30 burgers they asked if another hiker, Blair, could join us in the feast. We went to a spot out of sight of other hikers at the shelter (No sense in being cruel after all.) and chowed down on burgers, fresh green pepper, and carrots. We had a wonderful meal together. Yes, the Krystals were cold after being driven 40 minutes and carried uphill for 5 miles, but they hit the spot, especially for hikers living on couscous, ramen and granola.



Pancake Pantry - starting on the second plate

The next day we drove Jay, Sarah and Blair into Gatlinburg for yet another feast. We somehow managed to fit 5 backpacks, 8 trekking poles, all of Jay's restock food plus his suitcase that we had brought, and 5 people into the Prius. Ok, we had to hold backpacks on our laps, but we all fit! Pancakes were the current desire, and we found the Pancake Pantry and ordered to our heart's content. After that it was back to Newfound Gap to get Jay on the trail for the rest of his day's hike. We had come down 5 miles that morning, and Jay was slated to hike 6 miles further to his next stop.



Two days later Mark and I were hoping to see Jay again and restock his food once more. On Monday night he planned to be at Standing Bear Farm/Hostel http://www.standingbearfarm.com/ off of Waterville School Road. Jay actually arrived at Standing Bear by 11:30AM! He said as he's been hiking the miles just seem to fly by; either the terrain is getting easier or he's getting more fit or more used to it. We bribed him into staying at the hostel with the promise of pizza, and on our way there stopped in Newport to order two larges, made to order - one for Jay, one for us.

 

Laundry day at Standing Bear Hostel

Jay is looking and feeling good. He led us around the hostel; it is rustic, charming, peaceful, and full of character. (Can't miss the wall of the shower made of different-colored empty beer bottles in the shape of the AT symbol. Look on the website for a photo.) We walked down the gravel road to the crossing of the AT and looked at the abundant beautiful wildflowers among healthy patches of poison ivy along the road. Eating pizza in the great outdoors was wonderful; it was a beautiful, breezy, just-cool-enough evening. The hostel has two friendly dogs in residence. Both came to beg pizza from us, without success. But they managed to cart off one of Jay's empty chocolate milk bottles to parts unknown.



Jay and Helen protecting pizza from the Standing Bear dogs



Every time we see Jay we want to slough off the routine cares of city life and don our packs and start hiking. Following his journey has been a wonderful way to enjoy getting out in the woods.



East is East and West is West....

From Jay:

Mt. Collins Shelter inside. Sleeps 12 people

While hiking the first leg of the AT as a north-bounder, and being from "the West," I found the behavior of other hikers, predominantly from the midwest and eastern states, to be rather strange.... In the west, while hiking sections of the PCT, it is rare to see more than three tents pitched near each other unless you are in the vicinity of a trailhead. On the AT as a NoBo (North-Bounder) during the height of the hiking season, it is rare to see less than 5 tents pitched near each other. Part of the reason may be the vastly higher number of hikers on the AT, but there is something else going on here. I will call it "shelter worship."


As you know, there are over 250 shelters along the AT. Some are elaborate in design, while some are little more than three-sided sheds. Some have spectacular views, but many are placed in terms of closeness to a water source and distance from potential hazards such as lightning and falling trees (which tend to occur at the higher elevations on the windward sides of ridges). The  shelters offer cables from which one can conveniently suspend their food bags to keep them safe from animals. They also provide a table, a privy, and a natural water source. Few people, however, can actually sleep in the shelters because of their small dimensions. Those determined to luxuriate in these facilities must arrive before 2pm because of the first-come first-serve policy. They will enjoy a night lounging on a hard wooden floor, snuggled up beside snoring, sleep-talking strangers. Shelters are colder than tents due to their missing wall. But they offer much more entertainment from local wildlife - mainly mice, squirrels, skunks and porcupines.

Mt Collins Shelter

The puzzling behavior I observed was that, even though only a tiny percentage of the hikers could actually use the shelters, virtually everyone seems to need them. At the first crack of dawn, the air rings with the sound of tent zippers opening as the hikers begin the daily race to the next shelter, striving to stake out the "Best Spots," which are as close to the shelter as possible. The winners sit at the picnic table, reveling in their good fortune.

 If you should decide to check out a shelter near dusk, you will notice the same general population distribution at each. Radiating out from the "winners" at the shelter, you will see clumps of tents: highborn citizens nearer to the shelters, degenerating to less-desirables on the fringes such as vagabonds and lepers.

If you should have the audacity to (GASP!) approach the shelter after the village is established and naively set down your pack next to the picnic table, you will first hear the village cryer calling to "Release the hounds!" Almost immediately, swift canines will approach you and pee on your pack. If the desired affect is not achieved (e.g. you leave to stake your tent with the lepers), more drastic measures, such as boiling oil, will be employed.



Jay's tent near a shelter

 Well, so, I may exaggerate, but it is obvious that >95% of the hikers tent near shelters. I don't know whether it is for the conveniences offered (i.e. privy, water, table), or from fear of tenting alone, or because they like to (gasp!) socialize. In the west hikers tend to seek secluded tent sites where they can pee without asking others to look away, and where they can sing themselves to sleep without criticism. On the AT the solitary tent sites between shelter sites are rarely used. This is great for an introverted misanthrope from the West such as myself. If you want a western trail experience while hiking north-bound on the AT during peak season, here is how to do it:



Morning view from Jay's tent

Camp 1 mile before a shelter in a beautiful and secluded site near the trail. Start hiking in the morning at 8AM. By that time, the shelter zombies will be marching toward the next shelter after the one you are approaching. You can then check out the shelter after most of the defensive weaponry has been disassembled. You may see a straggler or two, too incapacitated from the previous night's debauchery to compete in today's shelter race. They can provide helpful intelligence such as, "That was gross when that dude peed all over the toilet seat." Alas, they share that enlightenment just after you use the privy. Or, "I wouldn't set your pack there, dude. Someone sprayed tabasco sauce all over the shelter." (These are actual quotations unfortunately.)



Privy near a shelter

You can then resume hiking in blissful solitude, between the herds. When you pass the next shelter, you no longer need fear attack from the rear, as all zombies behind you will stop there. Proceed on until dusk and camp again a ways before a shelter. Employing this strategy, I rarely see more than half a dozen hikers on the trail each day. True, I can hear primate noises as I pass the shelters, but those sounds merely sustain my appreciation of the shelter system and how they make the AT enjoyable for westerners and easterners alike.





What's It Like?

From Jay:


Sarah with AT blazes

Many accounts of AT thru-hikes tend to focus on highlights such as trail magic, special people met, beautiful vistas, etc. It is easy for the reader to forget that the highlights are only 1% of the thru-hike experience, and they are separated by the other 99% - half of which is trudging and half of which is trying to sleep when you are too tired and sore to relax. Some may argue that there is the time spent relaxing, eating, and socializing in camp. I retort that the real thru-hiker has no time for those activities. They walk when it is light enough and sleep when it's dark. The hikers carrying too much weight to remain on their feet 10-12 hours/day rarely complete a thru-hike on the AT in a single hiking season, and would certainly fail on the PCT or CDT.



I mention this because most of the people I met on my first leg through Georgia seemed to expect to complete a thru-hike even though they were carrying >45 lbs., were overweight, had not trained, and expected to spend a significant amount of time in camp. Of course I tended only to meet slower people who started before me. The ones traveling as fast or faster than me remained ahead of me unless they took an extended break. Most of the people I met seemed to consider the distance from one shelter to the next sufficient for a day's travel. Considering there are over 250 shelters, that notion doesn't seem to hold water, especially if you add a night or two for each of the towns near the trail.

The 200 mile mark south to north, near Newfound Gap

So I contend that the genuine thru-hiker spends half their time walking and half their time trying to sleep. Therefore, to give you a feel for what thru-hiking is like, I will focus on the walking part.


If you are considering a northbound thru-hike of the AT beginning in early April, here is a way you can simulate the first week without the expense of leaving home: First, clear out a room in your house. Next cover the floor with about six inches of dry brown leaves. Paint the walls with a series of zigzags - like a ridge beyond which is another ridge - until there are 4 or 5 layers of ridges varying from brown to grey the farther away they are. Top it with a hazy blue-white sky. This will simulate the view from the AT in northern Georgia.... Pretty, but with no distinguishing landmarks by which to orient yourself or gauge your progress.

One of many beautiful views in NC

Next, add a bunch of grey poles running from floor to ceiling. Maybe you could get some old telephone poles, cut them, and stand them up throughout the room so they're randomly distributed, on average about 6 feet from each other. This will simulate the trees, whose branches are so high you rarely look at them since you have to watch the trail while you're moving.

Next, release a couple dozen squirrels in the room. If you don't have access to squirrels perhaps you could substitute guinea pigs. But they need to be very active; you'll probably need to add a strong caffeine source to their water dishes. This will simulate the predominant sound one hears on the AT in northern Georgia as multitudes of hyperactive squirrels constantly perform spectacular athletic feats - bursting from under the leaves and carrying nuts and acorns up the trees.

Next add a heat lamp, a powerful fan, and a cold shower. Direct them at a centrally located treadmill, and put them each on a timer. The heat lamp should alternate with the cold shower at a ratio of 6 to 1, with the average duration at about 24 hours. The fan should turn on randomly for 2 minute durations every 10 or so minutes when the heat lamp is on. It should be set to operate continuously when the shower turns on.

Sarah heading uphill

The treadmill should switch randomly between uphill and downhill at durations averaging 20 minutes. Next employ a couple of 2-year-olds to sit by the treadmill. Their job is to cast things like Lincoln logs, legos, and rocks onto the tread so you can dodge them as you walk. Please check your state's child labor laws first.

Now it's time to strap on a heavy pack and start walking. If you can keep it up for 8-10 hours a day for a few days, you will understand why so many people quit during the first leg of the AT.

A nice final touch to your trail simulator would be to leave your front door open and place a sign by it stating "FREE SHOW" and "PLEASE ASK QUESTIONS." This will simulate the non-thru-hiker you will meet at or near trailheads who will look at you with puzzled expressions and ask, "What are you doing?" and even worse, "Why??"

Water in North Georgia

From Jay:

Because Northern Georgia was experiencing a warm spell during the week I chose to begin the hike, it soon became evident that the daily itinerary would be centered around the availability of water along the trail.

Water was plentiful during the first days - gurgling from springs and mountain streams at frequent intervals. Major sources (the ones that persist for more than a few days after rain) are indicated in the Data Book, and, if not obvious, are well signed. If the source is not on the trail, a wooden sign and a blue-blazed trail will lead you to it - usually a negligible distance from the AT.

The first days on the AT are like painting by numbers; the trail is so thoroughly blazed and signed that even I would have to try pretty hard to get thirsty. You can develop a false sense of confidence. At first you pay close attention to every landmark listed in the Data Book. You pause at every spring and decide whether to collect water there or save a little time by skipping it. Several factors go into the decision: how thirsty you are, how much water you still have in your bottles, how hot it is, how far from the trail (distance and elevation), how far to the next source, the quality of this source and the next (piped springs being preferred to open sources). For those trying to minimize the weight they carry and save time by not stopping at every source, the story problem that materializes around the decision of whether or not to stop can become complex. Whether you just want to avoid heat exhaustion or whether you want to maximize your water collecting efficiency is the most important information in your current location.

After a while you realize the trail pretty much just follows a bumpy ridge. When you are on top of a bump, you are on a "mountain." When you are at a low point between bumps, you are on a "gap" usually with an old-timey name such as "Lickskillet," "Loglick," "Hogpen," etc. Occasionally the low points are called "stamps" or "swags," presumably due to their relative shallowness - but I can't tell the difference if there is one.

Well, after a few days of endless bumps and plentiful water sources, you will be tempted to throw caution to the wind. "I'm a rugged thru-hiker," you think, as you stride past gurgling springs because you aren't quite thirsty enough. "I will power onwards." You will be tempted to leave the Data Book in your pocket, to be consulted only at major landmarks (shelters, road crossings, etc.) rather than keeping track of every little mountain, gap, stamp, and swag.

As you stride along, pheromones produced by your arrogant attitude waft from your delusional brain. They rise on the thermals of the heating day... upward past the circling, ever-hopeful turkey vultures, until they reach a being to this point un-introduced. A hooked and warted nostril twitches. A disturbingly bushy eyebrow raises. The being - the Wicked Witch of the AT - gazes into her crystal ball and sees the arrogant wannabe thru-hiker striding along, feeling invincible. "Oh boy!" she cackles, "Time for a little fun! Ah! Ha ha, hahaaaa!" "Let's remove the sign from that next spring.... He's not expecting it anyway, the twit, because he isn't keeping track! Ah! Ha Ha Ha Haaa!"

So you unknowingly stride past the last water source for 5 miles. Because it has been several days since the last rain, and because there are no leaves yet to provide shade, and because the trail is predominantly on southern exposures when you are struggling uphill, you are in for a tortuous afternoon. After a time you become parched; a headache begins to develop. You belatedly consult your Data Book. "Let's see.... Is this Swaim Gap, Corbin Horse Stamp, or Bags Creek Gap.... Those trail angel hamburgers I ate at Neels Gap must be kicking in; I'm really thirsty."

You continue on. Your arrogant stride has been replaced with a determined trudging now as you feel the weight of your resupply (all food from which every trace of water has been removed, of course) presses into your shoulders. After another hour of steep, sundrenched scrambling a real concern develops. Where is that next water anyway!

"Ah Ha Ha Ha Haa! It's time for the muddy seep!"

You come upon a muddy seep. You think, "Am I desperate enough to take off my shirt, press it into the disgusting ooze, and wring out the water?" You decide not, even though you are having trouble swallowing and your head is pounding. You can still move forward after all. "There's got to be water soon," you think.

"Ah Ha Ha Ha Haa! He's moving on - Oh... He'll regret that he will. Ah Ha Ha Ha Haaa!"

Later, when your trudge is reduced to a pathetic limp, you spy a day hiker coming the opposite way. Your parched brain amazingly produces an idea: SHE will know how far it is to the next water. As she approaches, this "angel" in clean clothes, smelling of soap, slows down as she notices the scraggly creep ogling her. You try to speak, but only a degenerate croaking emits from your parched vocal cords. You try again, "Have you pasthsed any water lately?" You realize too late that this might not have been the best choice of words. The lady scoffs, strides around you in a wide arc, and quickly disappears.

"Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha! Now let's show him the trail angel cache. Ah Ha Ha Ha Haaaa!

You top the next mountain, barely able to walk. You see the impossible... Could it be? No, surely not... YES!!! A cooler with a sign. It says, "Hey thru-hikers, since the next water is so far away, we have left these sodas for your enjoyment." Marveling at this act of empathy and kindness you open the lid... only to find a few empty soda cans.

"Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha! Now it's time for another muddy seep. And let's put a dead squirrel in it just for grins. Ah Ha Ha Ha Haa!"

Around the corner you stumble upon a disgusting patch of ooze sporting the carcass of some hapless rodent. Your tongue is beginning to swell. Beyond deliberation, you push a depression into the ooze as far away from the carcass as possible and suck up some water. It tastes unspeakable.



a rocky spring



"That's right.... Hope you enjoyed your little treat you arrogant wannabe. Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha!" The Wicked Witch of the AT, losing interest in you, turns her attention to another aspiring hiker. "So, you don't think you need to filter, do you.... Ah Ha Ha Ha Haaaa!"



Around the next corner, of course, a spring burbles merrily from the rocks. You vow to always keep track of your location and never pass a water source again without due consideration.

Wesser - ahead of schedule

From Helen:

Just got news yesterday that Jay is lapping up the miles! He accidentally did an 18-mile day, and that one, along with a previous 17-mile day, put him ahead of schedule. (I don't know about anyone else, but the last time I did an 18-mile day it was because I was lost and trying to get back to my trail. Whew! I'm totally impressed with Jay.) With Jay's current pace he will have an extra day off this weekend as Sarah comes to join him at Wesser. A nice reward for his hard work!

Jay and Sarah at Nantahala Outdoor Center, ready to embark

Springer Mountain to Neel's Gap

From Helen, via phone conversation with Sarah:

Staple foods abandoned by other hikers in the first few miles

After we left Jay at the first Benton MacKaye junction he soon encountered a steep climb with switchbacks. He had heard of many items being left behind on the trail from over-ambitious AT hikers who realized they had brought too much gear and who no longer wished to carry the weight. On those switchbacks Jay found packages of ramen noodles, jars of peanut butter, oatmeal, and much more lined up by the side of the trail. He couldn't resist picking some of it up, since those are all staples that he will be eating anyway.

At the first 3-sided shelter, Jay found a lot of discarded gear, some of it top quality outdoor gear, some brand new. There were shirts, fleece jackets, gloves, hats, and, oh, more food! (No wonder there are mice in those shelters.) He's still trying to keep his pack light, but someone hiking those first 30 miles with a half-empty pack could pick up a lot of nice things.

AT passes through the store at Neel's Gap (trail on the left)

Jay went through Neel's Gap yesterday. The AT literally passes through the center of the store there. (see http://www.mountaincrossings.com/about-us.aspx ) There's an archway with a white blaze on one side of the doorframe. When Jay arrived someone offered him a hamburger; a church group was grilling hamburgers for through-hikers! He gladly accepted. As he was wandering the store he heard cello music. Believing it to be recorded music, he thought nothing of it till he stepped out a door and saw that a man was playing a cello there, right beside the store.

Hamburgers for through-hikers. Trail angels!

Jay is making great time on the trail so far. He's passing up other through-hikers who started long before he did. I think his hill-climbing training paid off! I'm sure his light pack helps, too. He is certainly inspiring us to get out and hike more and improve our fitness.

There are more tales of Jay's encounters with other hikers, stories of bears who have become expert food-bag ransackers at one shelter, and a special request from Jay for ear plugs - to be worn when he sleeps in shelters. Sarah will be bringing him some next week. Stay tuned! We'll update as often as we can.

By the way, the weather is still beautiful. It's been 89 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny in Knoxville, but I would say it's a little cooler in the mountains. Nice!

Springer Mountain, GA

From Helen:
Mark and I got Jay to the trailhead at Springer Mountain yesterday about 2:00pm, via FS42. (For those who ask the drive can take about 3 1/2 - 4 hours from Knoxville.) Jay couldn't have asked for better weather to start this trek - sunny, cool, a few clouds, slight breeze. His pack weighed in at 28 lbs total, including his two full water bottles. Beautiful start of the trail, beautiful day!

Jay on top of Springer Mountain 4-7-11

AT plaque on Springer Mountain, GA

Registration cache on top of Springer Mountain

Southern Terminus plaque on top of Springer Mountain, GA

Mark and Jay at the parking lot on FS42



First junction of the AT and the Benton MacKaye Trail, traveling north on the AT



On the trail, stepping lightly with a 28 lb. pack and the blessings of family and friends.

We hiked with Jay for the first bit - up to Springer Mountain and back down to the parking lot and then on to the first junction of the Benton MacKaye Trail. We are looking forward to seeing Jay periodically through this trip!

Preparing for the Hike

Here’s a summary of my preparations for the hike over the last couple of months. I guess only time will tell if my methods were effective.

Physical Preparation:

The vast majority of my prep time has been spent obsessively-compulsively toting my 34-lb. backpack up and down the 600-ft. hill behind my house. I figure if I can ascend and descend 6,000 ft every day through all kinds of weather, carrying more than the load I expect to shoulder on the hike, then the first days of the hike should be more bearable.

So I have climbed the hill, known locally as “Cardiac Hill” 10 times a day for 50 days.  It takes me about 5 hours per day. The gradient is steep rising the 600 feet in well less than half a mile. I have hiked through blizzards, wind storms, and a little bit of rain. Some days were made especially grueling by deep snow or slippery mud, which made for precarious footing and ratcheted up the energy required to remain on my feet instead of my butt, back, or face.

My legs adjusted fairly quickly, but my shoulders still ache during and after the climbs. Because my shoulders, rather than my hips seem to be my weakest link in previous backpacking trips, I have gradually used the hip belt less and less until the present, when all of the weight has been on my shoulders. I have taken to spreading the shoulder straps outward on the descents and moving them in closer to my neck on the ascents to spread the burden around some. The narrow strap configuration frees my shoulders for the more active use of the trekking poles required on the ascents. I plan to keep the pack weight under 25 lbs. on the hike, so hopefully my shoulders will handle the lesser burden without complaining.

This graph compares the elevation profile of my daily workout to the first day on the A.T. starting on Springer Mountain and heading north.



Mental and Spiritual Preparation:

An elderly lady who hiked the AT several times stated that distance hiking “is more head than heel.” From my relatively short training experience, I have an inkling that she was right. By far the biggest challenge for me has been to quell feelings of dread, complacency, hopelessness, doubtfulness, boredom, and anxiety. At first, for a distraction, I listened to NPR on my radio while on the hill; but after a few weeks listening to in-depth coverage on the same four or five topics, the radio became more irritating than the work-out. Listening to music was fun at first, but I have trouble if the tempo doesn’t match my pace – too many years in the marching band. Discarding the radio, I began chanting silly rhymes to myself according to which of the ten laps I was on, such as “eight at a pretty good rate.” I found that chanting seemed to free my mind to enjoy just existing in the moment instead despairing over how many laps were left, or dwelling on the pain in my shoulders. I seemed to be able to let my mind coast, enjoy sensory input from the environment, or delve into an occasional delusional fantasy. After a few days, the chanting didn’t seem necessary for my mind to reach this calm state. Also, as the workout became easier, I gained confidence.

I have enjoyed meeting others who use the hill for exercise. I am particularly inspired by a 72-year-old man who I see out there most every day. He can hoof it up to the summit faster than me. Sometimes the company isn’t so pleasant; for instance, if the weather is good on a Friday afternoon, I can expect to dodge every variation of off-road vehicle challenging the hill, and to endure the cacophony of gunshots as target shooters fill the areas surrounding the hill. Welcome to rural Nevada!

The first few days of spring have been warm and sunny. The lonely and bleak high-desert landscape has become embellished with the calls of killdeer, meadow larks, and quail. I was fortunate to see a pair of golden eagles wheeling on the thermals above the summit. The once frozen ground is coming alive as ants, strange-looking beetles, and horny toads scuttle about underfoot. Soon, I will relinquish this arid climate and open terrain for the rainy, long green tunnel that is the A.T.

Intellectual Preparation:

The only maps I will take are for the trail south of the Great Smoky Mountains, and for Connecticut and Vermont. I will report the starting pack weight later. I currently weigh 190 lbs. I lost about 8 lbs. during the last couple of months. I could stand to lose about 20 lbs. more, and figure I will. I feel comfortable starting a little over-weight, because they say it is impossible not to lose weight when thru-hiking. 

Sarah and I have done a lot of reading about the A.T. – mostly accounts of other people’s hikes. It has been interesting to see how the experience differs depending on the personality, age, and season and direction of hiking. I particularly enjoyed The Barefoot Sisters Southbound by Lucy and Susan Letcher, and, for contrast, In Beauty May She Walk-Hiking the Appalachian Trail at 60 by Leslie Mass. These trail journals help me anticipate what hardships to expect on the trail, such as harsh weather, ticks, crowded shelters, and tough terrain.