The Finish Line

So the last time I left off, I had been diagnosed with what the doctors thought was Giardia. Well, the day following my initial doctor’s visit, I received a call from their office saying that my stool sample came back positive for something called shigatoxin, which is often present in e. coli cases. The woman on the phone said that, due to the potential seriousness of the illness, the Maine CDC was now going to step in and handle my case. I also needed to come back in for blood and urine samples for a full set of tests that were going to be run by the CDC. The following day I went back and submitted my samples and was told I’d need to wait 2 days to hear anything further. The weekend was approaching and I had to make a decision regarding my hiking plans. I needed to be in Monson, Maine, quite a bit up the trail, on Sunday so I could hike the 60 miles from there through the 100-mile wilderness to meet my sister on Friday. My illness wasn’t getting any better, so the options were either hiking with swampass and hoping I get better, or getting a ride to Bangor to hole up in a hotel, recuperate and wait for my sister to arrive. I was deliberating while sitting in the park adjacent to Rangeley lake when a freak thing occurred. I somehow managed to slam my sockless heel against the sharp edge of some wooden decking, cutting a 1.5 inch gash in the skin above my achilles. It seemed like someone was trying to tell me something. A hotel in Bangor it would be.

Bob, the friendly owner of Goose Pond Lodge in Rangeley gave me a ride to Bangor for the sum of $180. It was a 3 hour ride to Bangor and it was going to chew up a good chunk of his day, so that didn’t seem all that unreasonable. Not knowing anything about Bangor’s geography, I chose one of the cheaper hotels I could find since I’d be staying there all week. I quickly regretted this decision when Bob dropped me off at the Super8, which is located on the far outskirts of Bangor, near the airport. It clearly wasn’t an area where you could walk to much. After I arrived, I called around to a few of the bike shops to see if anyone rented bikes in the town. The town was only six miles across and would be easily navigable on a bike. After several calls, no dice. I then looked into the option of moving hotels to somewhere near the commerce area, better known as the mall. At least I could walk to Chili’s, Applebee’s, or TGI Chotschky’s. Sadly, most places were $90 or better, so I opted to just stick around Desolation Ave. out by the airport.

I decided to take a walk up the road I was on to see just what was there. Aside from a healthy dose of other hotels, all I found was a gas station with a Subway, a cheap movie theater and a pool hall. The next few days would find me eating a healthy dose of subs, seeing the Simpsons movie a third time as well as catching a couple other flicks. The third day I was there I walked the 3.5mi. to downtown Bangor to hit the library Internet up and catch a non-sub meal at a restaurant. Bangor had a cute little downtown and I managed to satisfy my recent chowder addiction by catching an amazing bowl of seafood chowder at an English pub called the Whig and Courier. I also found a nice wine and beer store so I could get my Belgian Ale fix. That day, I received a phone call from the CDC and they said the results came back negative for e. coli. They didn’t know exactly what my illness was, so they were going to send the samples back to the hospital for further testing. If they found out what it was, they’d call me. Not surprisingly, that call never came, so it’s still a bit of a mystery as to what I had. This is the second time I’ve had a serious illness that went unexplained by the medical world. My first was a 10 day sickness after returning from Vietnam. In that episode, I had chills, a 104 degree fever, headaches, sore throat, vomiting, etc. In doing some Internet sleuthing, it seemed all of my symptoms might have been due to the Plague. Yes, the Plague. I was surprised to learn that 50 people a year still get that. As it turns out, they never figured it out and I was left guessing, using WebMD to try to figure it out. That incident as well as the recent Maine illness hasn’t done much to inspire confidence in America’s health care system.

Aside from a few excursions out of the hotel, the rest of the time was spent cold chillin’. I spent most of the days reading, napping and watching TV. I think it might’ve been the most boring week in my life. I COULD NOT wait for my sister to arrive so we could get back on the trail.

She arrived on Friday and we were getting a shutle from Bangor to the 100-mile Wilderness the next morning. At 8AM, we were picked up by a guy from Monson named Buddy Ward. He was a native of the Monson area and had lived there most of his life. For nearly the entire three hour ride from Bangor, Buddy talked almost exclusively about bear hunting. One of his many jobs is at a bear hunting camp and the previous day had been particularly eventful for him, as the camp’s dogs had chased a bear around a huge moutain in the matter of a few hours. It was about 10 miles as the crow flies, but took the hunters nearly a day to bushwhack and locate the dogs via their radio collars.

Now, some of you are probably unfamiliar with bear hunting, as I certainly was prior to Buddy’s 3 hour talk. It goes something like this: It starts out by putting together a series of bait buckets for the bears. This was the particularly disgusting part, as the hunters put primarily donuts and a few other things in a 50-gallon barrel, seal it and let them ferment for one year. That’s right, one year. The next year, they transfer the contents to smaller barrels and place them at various points in the woods that are accessible by ATV. Every morning, they make rounds to see if the bait has been taken, which tells the hunters that the bear is in the area. If it’s determined that a bear is close, they release a series of dogs wearing radio collars to chase after the bear. Bears are pretty much scared of almost anything including wily dogs, so they run until they feel they can run no longer, at which point they head straight up a tree. It’s now the dog’s job to hoot and holler at the base of the tree, keeping the bear “tree’d” until the hunter arrives. Once the hunter locates the dogs and the bear, one person leashes the dogs and slowly starts to pull the dogs back, giving the bear the impression that the threat is subsiding. As soon as the bear starts his descent from the tree, the “hunter” with the gun pops a few rounds into the bear, killing it. Real sporting, eh?

All of this as well as many other gory details were covered in Buddy’s hunting lesson that he was providing us at no additional charge. I think he made reference to shooting nearly ever native animal of Maine over the course of our three hour ride. My sister, a vegetarian and no fan of animal cruelty or hunting, spent most of the ride squirming in the back seat while I politely entertained Buddy’s stories from the front. On our way into the 100-mile Wilderness, we saw two coyotes and Buddy was cursing himself for not having his pistol with him, because coyote pelts are apparently worth a lot. Robin and I, both anticipating the pelts were valued at $500-1000, were scratching our heads a little when Buddy said, “those are like $75 dollar pelts.” $75 bucks? Hardly seems worth it to me, but I suppose it’s just a matter of perspective.

After winding through the wilderness on a series of logging roads for nearly an hour, we came across the spot where the A.T. crossed one of them. Buddy dropped us off, gave us hugs and sent us into the woods. The final 40 miles of the trail were now in front of us. I was pretty excited. In four days, I’d be sitting on top of Mt. Katahdin. The last portion of the 100-mile prior to entering Katahdin’s home, Baxter State park were surprisingly easy, but not all that scenic. On the third day, we finally entered Baxter and were met with some nice sections of trail. We did about 10 miles to Katahdin stream campground, where we would set out for the 5.2 mile summit bid the next day. Upon signing in with the ranger, I learned that I was hiker number 338 to summit this year. Not bad, considering there was somewhere between 1200-1500 folks who started.

The next morning, we woke up in the dark to get an early start on the trail, since it was gonna be an ass-kicker. Nearly hitting our 7AM goal, we were on the trail by 7:20AM. The weather forecast was looking good, which is often not the case in early October when snows have been known to hit any time. On August 18th, we were all dismayed to learn that it was 20 degrees and snowing on Katahdin. What was it going to be like in October when I finally arrived? Surely it’d be hell. The A.T. is also known in the park as the Hunt trail, and is the route used by thru-hikers to ascend Katahdin. We had been warned that it was pretty tough and that the 5.2 miles would take us 4-5 hours. The first mile was a breeze, letting us cover the distance in a mere 20 minutes. From there things got interesting. The next mile and a half, wasn’t all that bad, just steep. We hit treeline at 3300 feet and still had another 2000 feet of elevation gain to go. Once above treeline, both Robin and I had occasions where we utttered, “Wait, we have to go over that?” The trail went straight up over large boulders and crevasses, sometimes requiring you to use the rebar that had been driven into the rock to use as hand and footholds. We were definitely in the toughest section of the climb, but it was fun, and the views were incredible. We climbed for another 1.5 miles and eventually hit “The Gateway,” which is the spot on the trail where it plateaus out into what they called “The Table Lands.” From here, we had another 1.25 miles up to the summit, which was recognizable for that entire distance, due to the congregation of hikers at the peak. The last stretch was rocky as could be, but it wasn’t all that steep. We summitted at 12:30PM, five hours after starting out. The mountain itself was just incredible. It’s the tallest mountain in Maine, and there really isn’t anything that’s nearly as high in the surrounding areas, so the views were just completely amazing.

After hanging out on top for about 30minutes, we decided to head back down. Not wanting to descend the Hunt Trail and all of it’s crazy rock ledges, we opted for another trail, the Saddle Trail, which I heard was the “easy” trail up the mountain. It was fairly easy for the first half mile until we hit the point where we had to descend from the ridge to the valley below. In the image above, we went from the mountain on the left down the side of the ridge and hit a trail that passed the pond that’s visible in the lower middle of the picture. Descending the ridge involved following a “trail” that was nothing more than a 1500 vertical foot rockslide over a half mile. Very steep. We eventually hit the bottom and had 4 miles to go to the parking lot where our folks were picking us up. The hike had been tough just getting to the top of Katahdin, so we were pretty beat by the time we set off down the rockslide. The last 4 miles saw the trail completely covered in large-ish rock that required you to step from one to the next. There wasn’t any smooth walking surface to speak of. It took us another 2.5hrs to do the 4 miles. As we were walking the last stretch, we saw our father waiting on the trail for us. We were almost there! When we got to the parking lot, our Mom, my Aunt, and my Uncle were waiting for us with snacks and beer. Woo Hoo! My mom completely burst out into tears of joy as my sister and I emerged from the woods. Her kids were back in one piece! My parents had seen me go into the woods six and a half months ago, and God knows what was going through their head. I can’t even imagine it. Now I was finally returning safely.

From there we had a long, uncomfortable ride back to Bar Harbor, ME, where we were to spend the next 5 days. My folks had rented a house and we were just going to eat, drink, sight-see and do some hiking in Acadia National Park. The week was great, weather was incredible, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was capped off by catching a sunrise from the Precipice trail on the eastern side of Acadia, overlooking the ocean.

So now I’m back in Florida, planning my next moves. I’ll be moving to Los Angeles in January and I’m trying to figure out the whole “work” thing. A harsh reality indeed. In the ultimate “screw you” to the trail and the freedom of the woods, I bought a laptop in New Hampshire three hours before getting on a plane to go home. How quickly we can slip into our old ways!

Thanks again to the crazy amount of support I’ve received. I honestly thought people would maybe take a look at this blog for the first couple weeks of the trail, then interest would totally wane. To my surprise, I was getting 50 views a day from people all the way through the hike. I hadn’t anticipated that at all.

As you’ve seen, I have my pictures up on Flickr, but I haven’t gone through and titled all of them. That’ll be coming in the next few days or so, as well as a few videos on my Youtube page.

 

Youtube Videos

I’ll be posting some videos from my hike at my youtube page. I’ve got a couple up right now.

One’s a time-lapse video of me walking a ridge in the White Mountains of NH.

The other’s of an awesome sunrise I caught in Acadia National Park on my last day in Bar Harbor, Maine.

The quality’s kind of crappy, but it’ll have to do until I figure out how to get high-Q vids up.

Enjoy!

 

Katahdin Summit Photo!!!

Katahdin Summit Photo!!!

Originally uploaded by ryanchittick.

I made it! The last few weeks have been crazy, dull, awesome and shitty all at the same time. Give me a day or two to collect my thoughts and I’ll be posting a complete rundown of the finish of the trip.

Here’s the rundown of the recent events:
1) I almost had e.Coli
2) I spent a week hanging in a hotel in Bangor, Maine
3) I finished out the hike with my sister by my side
4) I had an awesome post hike vacation in Bar Harbor Maine with my Parents, Aunt and Uncle
5) I wasted no time and bought a laptop before even returning to FL
6) I’m back in Florida at the wonderful resort that is my parents house

 

Swampfoot/Swampass

Ok, so I’ve learned my lesson about the importance of treating your water. 5 days ago, i was struck with a serious intestinal bug, causing me frequent panicked trips to the restroom. This is neither fun nor convenient while trying to hike 15 miles a day, so me and my buddies pulled into Rangeley, ME yesterday. After scoring a doctors appointment for this morning, my suspicions were confirmed that the little bug causing me so much inconvenience is likely Giardia. It’s a relatively common thing for hikers to get, especially on long distance hikes, considering the wide variety of water sources you encounter.

So, folks, I’m holed up here for two or three days, taking a regimen of antibiotic. Supposedly, I’ll start feeling better in 3 days, at which point, i’ll skip ahead a bit and resume my hike, keeping my time schedule.

Let my affliction be a lesson to you all, treat or boil your backcountry water! Those signs placed by the forest service at water sources warning you of the risks are no joke!

 

Homestretch

I can’t quite believe it, but I’m in the homestretch of this sucker now. I have a little over two weeks and 200 miles to go.

 For most of the trail, any time a weekender would ask me where I was headed, I’d say “Maine.” Unfortunately, now that I’ve arrived in Maine, that clever comment doesn’t have the same effectiveness.

Also for the entire length of the trail, nearly anyone you encounter who knows anything about the trail says something to the effect of “wait ’til you get to New Hampshire and Maine. It’s awesome.” Well, New Hampshire’s under my belt, and I’ve cracked into the first portion of Maine as well. The thing is, all of the hype up to this point was absolutely right on. I’m usually one to build up anti-hype anticipation of things, so when someone tells me something’s gonna be awesome, i’m usually prepared to be diappointed. This hasn’t been the case one bit.

Two Mondays ago, we entered the White Mountains of New Hampshire, going over Mt. Moosilauke, a relatively tame affair save one 1.5 mile steep section, but we had a beautiful day, killed 2 hours on the summit and moved on. The next day, we went over Kinsman Mountain, which had some serious semi-rock climbing portions. This was our first real ass-kicking day; we covered 16 miles in the relatively slow paced 10 hours. Franconia ridge was the next section, but it was socked in with fog. The next section we hit was Mount Washington and the Presidential Range. We had the misfortune of hitting this part in bad weather, causing us to have to bail off the moutain and bypass 12 miles of trail. Mt. Washington is known for some of the most fickle weather in the world, and currently holds the record for the fastest windspeed record on the surface of the earth, a respectable 231mph. We arrived in Maine a couple days ago, and had to go through a mile-long boulder field called Mahoosuc Notch. This section was unlike any other on the trail, as it required you to crawl under giant boulders, hoist yourself up near-vertical granite faces using roots as handholds, and just generally exert yourself beyond anything you’ve done before. We managed to move through it fairly quickly, covering the mile in 2 hours, including a 30 minute halfway break.

The area between Mahoosuc Notch and where I am now, Andover, ME, has been incredible as well. We’ve had the pleasure of going over mountaintops above treeline, with 360 degree views. And the nice thing about Maine so far has been how remote it is. In the Whites, you’d look out and see roads, houses, towns, and plenty other signs of people. When you look out over Maine, you see very little other than beautiful countryside. From what I hear, it only gets better between here and Katahdin.

So yes, I am indeed counting the days to my finish. It’s definitely going to be a weird feeling to step off the trail and know that I don’t have to walk with 50 pounds on my back tomorrow (yes, I finally weighed my pack and I’m at about 50 pounds with 4 days of food). The future beyond my finish still has a large question mark above it, but I’m definitely feeling rejuvinated and positive.

You may hear from me one more time before my finish, but if not, the next update will be from the other side of this.

 

The McDonald’s Day

OK, so I was relaying this story to Lilly, and she convinced me I probably needed to post this on my blog. If any of you are grossed out by fast food or can’t possibly fathom why on earth someone would stoop so low as to eat at McDonald’s, you can stop reading right now.

From the time we were leaving entering Vermont, the crew I’m hiking with had been talking pretty heavily about getting McDonald’s. Different folks had different wants. Mine, specifically, was Chicken McNuggets. Every time I tell someone this they say, “You know McDonald’s makes real chicken tenders now, right?” What they don’t get is that I’m not going after the McNugget seeking a nice tender piece of fried chicken. The McNugget is kind of like powdered tea, a loose approximation of a particular food, while somehow managing to have it’s own unique and tasty flavor. I know what I’m in for with the McNugget: pre-fab, ultra processed, mold-injected chicken pieces.  I find the uniformity of the McNugget shape comforting. They are undoubtedly my favorite fast food item (next to In-N-Out burgers).

So here we are, headed into Manchester Center, VT one morning. First stop: you guessed it. It was 10:00AM, so breakfast was in order. I ordered 2 bacon egg and cheese biscuits, hash browns and coffee. Around 10:20, I finished up and waited for the menu to roll over to lunch at 10:30. I actually got to see the lady crank the menu and flip it over to lunch. What excitement. Once lunch was available, I ordered a 20 piece McNuggets with a kids-sized chocolate shake. Once I was finished with the second order, I was satisfied, and we headed out to do errands. After grocery shopping, doing laudry, and hitting the post office and the outfitter (a pretty typical list of town chores), it was close to 5:30PM. We were planning on hiking out three miles to the shelter north of town. Before we hitched out of town, we decided to hit McDonalds again. Hikers always take any opportunity they can to pack on the fat and calories, because trail food simply doesn’t cut it. For this McDs visit, I was hipped to the dollar menu. I placed my order for three double cheesburgers, a 4-piece McNugget, small fries and chocolate shake. This was easily the most gluttonous order I’d ever placed.

I consumed this order without much trouble. In fact, the three mile hike up a steep hill was easier than any other hill in recent memory. I was fairly convinced that McDonald’s was responsible. I’m envisioning a McDonald’s-sponsored hike next time I do this. I’d have a support crew that would meet me at various road crossings and provide me with my McDonald’s fix. I’m willing to bet the effect would be completely opposite of the Supersize Me guy. I’d become a hiking machine, finishing the trail in a record time.

 

Checking in from the Green Mountain State

So, before I go any futher, I’ve gotta get this one out there…How many of you remember the anti-Howard Dean ad from the 2004 primaries slamming Vermont and it’s liberal, latte-drinking yuppies? it’s got to be one of my favorite political ads ever, and it comes to mind almost once a day since I’ve been here in Vermont. For those of you unfamiliar with it, here it is….

So secondly, I’ll say that my mood has picked up significantly since my last post. Getting through Connecticut and Massachusetts played a large part, as well as the fact that I’ve met up with some folks I knew from back in Virginia and have had a hiking posse for the past week and a half.

One of the more recent highlights of the trip was a stay in Dalton, MA at the residence of a local guy named Tom Levardi. He’s kind of an amazing guy, because he basically runs a free hostel out of his home, allowing any and every hiker that appears at his door to stay. I hadn’t planned on staying in Dalton more than a day, but his hospitality stretched that out into three days. On the second day, we were planning on hiking out when he offered to drive us to a trailhead 10 miles north on the trail so we could hike back to his house and stay another night. we took him up on this offer on day 2 as well as day 3, finally getting out on day 4. The man gave us beds, showers, ice cream, cooked dinner for us, drove us 70-some miles and was just generally a nice guy. Definitely the finest display of hospitality this side of the Mason-Dixon, or quite possibly on the entire trail.

We’ve finally gotten back into real mountains after them leaving us in central Virginia. Vermont hasn’t been that tough, but it’s priming our legs for the challenging White Mountains of New Hampshire. If all goes well, we’ll be there sometime next week. Weather there is notoriously unpredictable, so in addition to doing several 2000 foot climbs a day, we might be dealing with snow, sleet, or 60 mph winds. Last week, it snowed in most of the Whites. Yes, snow in August….North of the Equator. Should be good stuff.

Thankfully, my folks were kind enough to get together my winter gear and send it on up to NH for me so I can be toasty on those stormy nights. I’ll give you the full update after I go through. I’m fully planning on it kicking my ass, but the scenery will more than make up for it.

Oh, and all the embeds in this post are because this is the first time in ages I’ve been able to write a post on a real computer. My dad’s cousin Cheryl and her husband Bill live in Vermont, and were kind enough to drive an hour to come pick me and my hiking buddies up from Killington, VT. They’ve been awesome to stay with and cooked us a ridiculous spread tonight that was topped off by homemade blueberry pie and B&J’s ice cream. I can still barely move.

I’m in the home stretch of this sucker, with under 500 miles left. Week by week, that number only gets smaller. I just have to keep reminding me that I only need to average 13 miles a day to meet my target of summiting October 2. I’m getting very excited about it. The mood is definitely different on the trail, as well. People are actually talking about the end now, where that was almost never the case before. The buzz that will surely be surrounding the hikers in the week prior to Katahdin will be very cool, i think.

Until Next time…

 

My Glorious Cankles

I’ve never been a big fan of the phrase “Nothing makes you feel more alive than…” However, I’m going to use it.

Nothing makes you feel more alive than being attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets because you just stirred up their nest while clumsily plodding down the boardwalk that supports their nest while listening to R.E.M’s Eponymous record. No, seriously. This happened to me yesterday. The moment I looked down thinking a horse fly was getting the better of me, I noticed that it was not in fact a horse fly, but rather 10 to 20 yellow jackets clinging to my shoes, socks and calves. Instantly, a rush of adrenaline burst through my spine and up to my scalp. I took off running down the 100 foot boardwalk screaming like a banshee, releasing a stream of obscenities that might make a Russian sailor blush. When the brief, but painful incident was over, i was left with 6 bites on various parts of my body. They’ve swelled up today and I can say I officially have cankles (google it). Ahhh, life is good.

But anyhow, yes it’s been quite a while since I’ve done an update. The big reason for this is that I’ve been pretty down in the dumps after returning to the trail from my NYC jaunt. I was quite aware that taking 12 days off to do fun stuff and see awesome people might have a negative effect on my trail psyche, but I had no idea to what extent. As I stepped off the northbound Metro North train at the Appalachian Trail station, the question that quickly entered my mind was “Is this really where I want to be?” For the first week back on the trail that answer was a pretty convincing NO. I mean, c’mon, I’d already spent 4 months sleeping on the ground, slogging through the rain, eating a combination of Lipton noodles and Tuna every night, and just generally forcing my body to do something humans probably aren’t designed to do. Did I really need to subject myself to 700 more miles to get the A.T. Experience? Probably not. For the first time ever, I seriously considered dropping out, going home, wrapping up this phase of my life and finally getting back to doing something productive.

The rub of it was that my folks were already planning on meeting me at the end, and my sister has already made arrangements to hike the last 50 miles with me. So I’m stuck with this thing now. Honestly, I’ve emerged from my trail funk and have finally started regaining steam. I’m almost in Vermont, and the last 600 miles are ahead of me. Totally doable, considering those states are said to be the most spectacular on the trail.

Given the fact that once I’m finished with this endeavor, most of the negative aspects will likely be whitewashed in the “those were good times” haze, I want to put down on record the larger things that make the trail a drag. All of the piddly stuff concerning food’s lack of variety, sore muscles and sleeping on the ground are hardly even worth mentioning. I think the single biggest issue I’m having with being out here is that it has indeed become a steady routine, a job of sorts. Sure, anyone reading this from the comfort of their office chair might be taking this opportunity to flip me the bird, but I’m serious. It’s not so much that it’s hard work, but I honestly feel like I’m not doing much with myself. And that feels just plain weird, given the fact that I’m a fairly antsy person. A hiking buddy and I were talking about how odd it is to be out here on an entirely selfish journey, consuming and blowing through money, while not really doing anything terribly productive or useful. I can say that I’m genuinely looking forward to stepping back into real work of some sort. Of course, the moment I sit down and begin some new professional gig, I’m sure I’ll be wishing that my only cares were still what I’m going to eat and where I’m going to sleep. But I suppose that’s just going to be how it is.

A cheap all-you-can-eat buffet is calling my name, so I must head off now to consume in upwards of 10,000 calories. Gotta pack that fat on for the lean times.

Oh, and I’ve been thinking about doing a series of posts that consist of character descriptions of various people I’ve met along the way. Since the “A Walk in the Woods” movie will undoubtedly come out before I can turn my A.T. Experiences into a movie highlighting all the crazy people, I figure I need to commit my memories of these folks to record. Let me know what you think of this.

Until next time…

 

Still Alive

hey everyone! I’m still kicking it. sorry for the lack of activity here, but that’s the way it goes!

the past week has been pretty interesting. the highlights have been:

- getting new shoes
- seeing transformers the movie
- staying at a mayor’s house (more on that later)
- hiking through a superfund site

I’ll be hiking up to Pawling, NY by the end of the week, where I’m going to catch a train into NYC. I’ll be meeting my girlfriend Lilly there, hanging out for a bit, then we’re heading up to Buffalo to see some family. I’m looking very forward to it!

I’ll be giving some more detailed updates toward the beginning of next week.

until then…

 

Props to my Boiling Springs Peeps

At a time when all i’m really exposed to is thru-hikers, trail bums, hostel owners and the occasional section hikers, it’s damn nice to meet some cool people that don’t fall into one of the above categories. In Boiling Springs, PA, I was lucky enough to have this happen.

Two Saturdays ago, I had made the 20 miles from Pine Grove Furnace state park to Boiling Springs. The trail club had sanctioned a small camping area on the outskirts of town, wedged between a corn field and the railroad tracks. I decided to set up my tent, offload my gear and head into town. As i was setting up my tent, an extremely long freight train cruised by not but 40 yards from me. Chris Farley’s ‘Van down by the river’ bit came to mind, and for the first time on the hike, I truly felt like a gore-tex wearing hobo. I shook it off, strapped on my fanny pack (yeah, that’s right) and headed in to town.

After some local kids fishing on the town square pond quickly identified me as hiker trash, they immediately started bragging about how Boiling Springs was a great place to score any kind of drug. I got the sense that they were trying to sell me something of my choice, but all their ‘dudes’ and ‘brahs’ got in the way of their sales pitch. I finally shook them with a joke about how there’s nothing to do in small town except get fucked up, or apparently, catch 4 inch fish in the town pond.

I ended up at an Italian place called Anile’s. What has struck me so far about crossing the Mason-Dixon line is that you can no longer count on these ho-dunk town to have a mexican restaurant. Instead, it’s Italian. I ended up ordering a stromboli that was easily the size of a quarter of a watermelon (not those seedless genetically-engineered wonders, but state fair blue ribbon-sized melons). Upon finishing it, i received ”wows” and compliments from the waitress and owner. Swamp-etite in the house! (honestly, that just came to me)

With a very full belly, i wandered back to my campsite. As I approached, i noticed a circus-sized tent set up 30 feet from mine. This can mean only one thing: Locals. For some reason, thru-hikers are always afraid of camping near locals. If there’s some amazing campsite next to a waterfall, but there happens to be a road nearby, 4 out of 5 hikers will pass it up, presumably with the fear of hearing ”hey, there’s one now, let’s go mess with him” while snug in his tent sometime past midnight. So what passed through my head as i saw the locals’ tent on a saturday night the weekend before the fourth of july? a couple cases of Milwaukee’s best, some wily pitbull, some guy named delbert, shooting 22s at bottles on the railroad embankment, etc. I figured i would be in for a night of hootin and hollerin going on while i try to get some sleep, all the while damning my decision to sleep here.

My fears were totally misplaced. Instead, i ended up with the Key Club; five kids in their twenties who knew each other from the cross-country team in high school, and have all gone on to varying athletic achievements in the NCAA circuit. I first met Dan Wilde, who then introduced me to John Butler, Maureen McCandless and Christian Kunkel (co-founder of the American Beerpong Association of America check it out here). They quickly made me feel welcome and offered up an open invitation to their food and beer. After being unable to find beer in town, i was happy to take them up on the offer. A short time later, Pat Caulfield (not the dead artist, apparently) and his girlfriend Lauren Tucci showed up. We hung out and i told them stories of the weirdos on the trail, while i marvelled at the fact that they routinely go for 15 mile runs on the A.T. (they had one planned for 9am the next morning). Things definitely got rowdy as the John and Christian seemed to be in an unspoken competition of who could speak the loudest. Once we plowed through the last of the Miller Lites, we switched to passing around Parrot Bay passionfruit-flavored rum (which just might mke a pansy drinker out of me yet). One odd thing was that I found out Christian, Dan and Pat all worked for a company doing similar work to my last job. It was rather random to meet other people doing this niche job…and at a campsite on the edge of a 200 person town?

Anyways, i just wanted to give some props for the nice display of northern hospitality! Oh, ad thanks to the mad exercise physiology knowledge of Maureen, i now know that the burn i feel on uphills is due to oxygen deficiency and lactic acid!

And sure as anything, the next morning when i was in town nursing my hangover at he local A.T. Office, the gang came by with all their camping gear, dropped it in their cars, changed into running gear and headed out. You’ve gotta respect the dedication of REAL athletes. It makes us hikers look like a bunch of hacks….

Oh, and christian, nice ‘tash in the SI pic….

 

The HGC Report

Before we go any further, I’d like to expose the half-gallon challenge for what it realy is, a cheap marketing ploy. First off, I was clearly misinformed as to how it works. No, you don’t get refunded if you can eat the whole thing. You plunk down you $5.25 and you own that ice cream. If you happen to finish, you get a measly little wooden paddle/spoon (you know, the kind that come wrapped in a paper sleeve when you get one of those cheap ice cream cups) as a souvenir.

Knowing this, and being a little disappointed upon my arrival, i decided to give it a shot anyway. It so happened that they had only one half-gallon left of, my personal choice, chocolate. Money was exchanged, and i then stepped out on the porch, dug out my titanium spork, and went to work.

At about twenty minutes in, i started hitting a wall. I had a softball size chunk left when i decided it would be a wise idea to take a break. I could already feel rumblings deep in my belly. When i went back at it, i managed to whittle the chunk down to roughly the size of a baseball. It was then that i decided that, though i could probably shove the rest down, i just simply didnt have the desire to do so. I threw in the towel and threw out the ice cream.

The store’s marketing ploy is pretty genius, and seems to be working rather well. Not only do they sell the ice cream at five bucks a pop, but there is a conveniently-located, undoubtedly affiliated hostel right next store. After downing that much cream, one will surely opt to have convenient access to a flushing toilet for the evening. I’ve heard stories of hikers deciding to head out of town only to get a mile down the trail, turn around and decide to check into the hostel.

Business seems to be doing well, as the teenager manning the store ceerfully told me that they have sold over 40 half-gallons since last friday. Coincidentally, the Hershey’s ice cream man arrived to replenish their supply not but five minutes after i bought the last container. They’ve got a pretty good racket going.

As for me, i feel that, like your blood type, knowing whether or not you can consume that much ice cream in one sitting is one of those things you should know about yourself. I know that I’m clearly more of a pansy than those who have come before me and finished their purchases. But, honestly, i might’ve been a bit frightened had i finished. Then again, that’s probably just me trying to make myself feel better.

 

”Excuse me, can we sit over there?”

So here I sit at the Old City Buffet in Waynesboro, PA. You know the kind of place; 6 rows of food, ranging from donuts to sushi to mashed potatoes to clam chowder o king crab. All this for $6.99. I’ve made it 1050 miles so far. You know what my trip has been missing thus far? I have yet to truly offend any townspeople with my hiker musk. That is, until today.

I’m seated in the back corner of the restaurant when I head off for my first helping. Upon returning, I notice a group of four ladies, two of them nurses, seated next to me. They had also just returned from the bar. We all go aout eating our first round. Before all four of them had finished their first plate, one of them gets up to talk to the waitress. Im thinking she’s merely being sly and trying to pay the bill. Shortly thereafter, the other three leave. Wow, quick lunch, but not surprising since it’s lunchtime on a weekday.

So like i said, i’m sitting in the corner, a bit walled off from the rest of the place. I get up to peruse the oferings and figure out how I’m going to stack my second plate. And looky who’s standing at the dessert tray, Miss I’ll-pay-the-bill. I immediately smile to myself and head over to the aisle so i can get a good scan in of the entire restaurant. You betcha, the other three are sitting about a quarter mile from me across the cavernous dining room. I, of course being an instigator, walked up and stood next to the lady at the dessert tray so she could get a nice big whiff of me. P – U !!!! I pity the fool who gets in my stink’s path. Im starting to see the little stink lines above me like pigpen from Peanuts.

it’s been a while since i did a BO check on here, so there ya have it. At least all of the other patrons have been respectful. A few even stopped me to ask about the hike. I dread the thought that it will be three more days before a shower or clean clothes. It’s muggier than cambodia and hotter than nairobi. I just hope my arc’teryx pack’s seams hold under the torment of my drenching sweats.

 

The Half-Gallon Challenge

here’s another tidbit for those of you not fully immersed in the A.T. Universe. This is something hikers learn about in what seems like the first 30 minutes of being on the trail.

As I near the halfway point of 1087 miles this weekend, i’ll be coming to a place in PA called Pine Grove State Park. It is here, at the park’s camp store that is home to one of the more famous trail challenges. It’s called the half-gallon challenge. A hiker purchases a half-gallon of ice cream, and if they can consume the entire thing in one sitting (it’s unclear to me as to whether there’s a time limit) their money for that half-gallon is refunded. Only in a sport(?) where the athletes(??) are fueled on snickers, pop tarts, m&ms, ramen noodles and soda would a challenge such as this exist. I was pretty doubtful that i would accept the challenge, but after consuming a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food in around 6 minutes saturday morning, i think i might just be up for it.

I’ll be sure to give you a full status report after the challenge, including whether i finish, the completion time, and any unintended damage done to my body, i.e. crazy bowel movements or anything else.

Wish me luck!

 

Nearing the Halfway Point

Woo hoo! I made it to harper’s ferry WV saturday and am now on the mad dash through maryland to the pennsylvania line. Knocking out the 540 miles of virginia and nearing the mason dixon line feels pretty durn good. I escaped the southern mountains with no real ”deliverance” moments, though I won’t feel safe until I clear the pennsylvania hill country. Those who have heard me tell my 3rd grade bully story about a kid named Delbert and his younger sister will know what I’m talking about. The story goes something like this: i did something to piss the sister off on the bus, i think it was accidentally pulling her hair. She then told Delbert to hit me, to which he responded, ”why dont YOU hit him?” Her response was the ever-classy, ”because im not wearing any rings.” The threat of Delbert grinding me into mush led me to avoid school bus usage, instead walking a mile home through trails, and if my memory serves me correctly, a junkyard. I probably did this for a couple weeks until either my parents found out or the threat level was reduced back down to orange. I’m just waiting to round a corner on the trail, which comes fairly close to where my family lived, and see a full-grown Delbert standing there waiting to get his pounding in.

One other thing that’s interesting is that when crossing the mason dixon line, the pronunciation of Appalachian will now change from ”appalatchin” to ”appalayshun.” Gotta love the subtle differences.

Onward to the ankle-twisting lands of Rocksylvania!

 

The Naked Hiker

Last friday, while trudging up a strenuous 3000 foot climb, I was passed by a tall, skinny, Ron Howard look-alike going southbound. He wasn’t carrying a backpack and was wearing running shoes, so I assumed he was a local out for a trail run. He passed me without looking at me or saying a word. Not but five minutes after he passed me, I got the sense that someone was behind me. One develops a pretty keen sense of the presence of others while out in the woods for a prolonged period. I got a bit
creeped out when i turned around and saw the same guy coming up behind me. I turned to the side of the trail to let him pass and so i could keep my eyes on him. When he passed by, he made some small talk about the weather and, being a fellow redhead, commented on how the rain was better than the sun because we werent getting sunburned. As he passed by, i wondered if he was wearing really short shorts or no shorts at all because i couldnt see anything under his long t-shirt. Once he passed by, two hikers by the name of Tater and Blackfoot caught up to me. They told me that the same guy had appeared at the shelter the night before. Apparently, he popped out of the woods and said, ”boy, you guys arent very observant for a group of hikers. I’ve been watching you for the past thirty minutes.” Shortly thereafter, he disappeared. The day progressed on and i didnt give much more thought to the creepy Ron Howard.

The next day when i arrived at the Dutch Haus, i sat down for lunch with Eagle, Ronin, and Copperhead, when the conversation turned to ”The Naked Hiker.” They, as well as the dutch haus owner lois, filled me in on some more details about the creepy guy i had seen the day before. Apparently, several other hikers had even more revealing encounters with the guy. Eagle, a former IBM engineer frm New Jersey, looked up to see the same guy 20 yards ahead completely naked. The guy quickly dashed off into the woods naked and barefoot. Another hiker was walking along when the guy jumped out of the woods, flasher style, to reveal himself. He stood there for a few seconds while the hiker was stunned before running off into the woods. Several other people had similar stories, including one where he actually tried to carry on a conversation with the hiker while naked. He had told a few hikers that he had lost his job and was coming out to the woods to blow off some steam. I guess his idea of getting rid of stress was a little bit different than yours or mine.

A few hours after arriving at the dutch haus, the A.T. Ridgerunner who’s responsible for that section of the trail showed up with a county police investigator. He had been speaking with all the thru-hikers in the area trying to gather some information on the guy that might identify him. Unfortunately, they hadn’t come up with much. I havent heard anything since leaving the trail, but if i come across anything more, i’ll keep you updated.

 

The ”Deliverance” Days

Tell someone your going on a 3 day canoe trip through the backwoods of virginia and you’re just asking for ”Deliverance” jokes to be made. But this is exactly the plan my friend Josh Gumiela and I cooked up a week ago. He was to drive out and meet me in Montebello VA and we were going to head up to Luray VA to rent a canoe for a multi-day float trip on the shenandoah river.

The plan came together this past saturday. I hiked down to montebello after two miserable days of rain and cold in the woods. Everything i owned was wet. My single pair of socks, boots, tent, sleeping bag, and even my maps and guidebook. I arrived in montebello just after the sun came out and headed to mine and josh’s meeting point, the dutch haus b&b. The place was an absolute gem, run by a texan couple named lois and earl. Each day, they offer hikers a free lunch between the hours of 11 and 1. I arrived within that window and was fed a giant juicy double cheeseburger, homemade macaroni and cheese, an ear of corn, and some cake. Josh wasn’t going to arrive for another few hours so lois was kind enough to let me hang around until he did. I managed to dry all of my gear off on her lawn, which was a relief. She said to me, ‘’since you’re hanging around, you might as well take a shower. It’s getting ripe in here!” I cleaned up, then hung out with felow hikers Ronin, Eagle, and Copperhead until Josh arrived.

After making the 12 hour drive from carbondale IL, he and i jumped right back in the car and headed up to luray. We enjoyed a meal at a local mexican dive, caught a motel room at luray caverns and headed out in the morning to the downriver outfitters in bentonville. We ended up renting a canoe and a kayak to make sure we had room for both of us, our gear and our 48 budweisers. We hit the river at about 9am celebrating the trip’s start by cracking open a round of buds, which eventually turned into about 5 each by noon. Let me tell you, the sun, paddling, and beer combine in a giant punch that can really knock someone out. I think i might’ve had a hangover by about 2pm.

Anyway, we moseyd our way down the river all day until finding a little campsite on the bank 13 miles from our starting point. We promptly jumped in the river’s 80 degree waters for a little rejuvination. Josh and i were both zombified that night and we both turned in fairly early.

The next day promised to be a little more scenic, as it went through significantly more national forest land than private property, as we’d seen the day before. We also had 2 class-2 rapids ahead of us, compton rapids and ”the ledge.” We spent quite a bit of time at compton, because we portaged the kayak back upstream so both josh and i could run the rapids again. It was a blast. after compton we broke for lunch and a swim before heading on downstream. ”The Ledge” proved to be not all that tough, though i can see how one might tip their canoe if they weren’t careful. In the late afternoon, the sky started to turn dark and the sounds of thunder began. We were definitely going to be dumped on by one of those ubiquitous summer afternoon storms. The rain started off fairly hard and each time i would comment on how i didnt think it would get any worse or that it might be letting up, the storm seemed to say, ”oh yeah? Well try this.” and the rain would come down even harder or wind would kick up. It soon became clear that we were in a dangerous situation as the lightning kept striking closer and closer. At one point, josh suggested we move closer to shore, rather than paddling in the middle of the wide river. Soon thereafter, we saw lightning and instantly heard an incredible crash of thunder. Both he and i hauled ass to the bank, pulled up our craft and crouched down. We were beached there for about 10 minutes, with several very close strikes. Luckily, there was a ridge a bit behind us that we assumed was taking the hits. In reality, we probably were fairly well protected. The storm finally let up and we paddled down the river, eventually landing back at the outfitters.

We decided to cut the third day off of our float trip an instead spend some time in luray at the world-famous luray caverns. I’m not sure it wad quite worth the 20 dollar admission fee, but Josh and I, both being organ geeks, were excited to hear their ‘’stalacpipe organ,” an organ that plays the stalactites by hammering small rubber mallets to different lengths of rocks. The organ performance on the tour was pretty short, but josh managed to score a cd of stalacpipe organ sounds at the gift shop. Very cool.

With more thunderstorms continuing throughout the day, we decided to rent a little cabin on the river to finish out our final night. The place was a quaint two room cabin rented by the local outfitter. We sprnt the rainy evening grilling chicken and corn, chewing the fat, drinking some beers and playing music for each other. It was a very nice end to a few days spent with a good friend.

Josh headed home today and i headed up to front royal va, just north of shenandoah national park. I’ll be continuing on from here, skipping the park. I’ll be at the mental half-way point in harpers ferry west virginia in three days and the actual halfway point of 1086.5 in a little under two weeks! Woo-hoo!

Here’s to getting out of the longest state on the trail….

 

Trail Names

Ok, this is something I totally take for granted as common knowledge about the trail, but in telling the people back home about it and seeing their surprise, I feel it’s time to explain the whole trail name phenomenon.
Almost nobody goes by their real name on the trail. Instead, people take on pseudonyms which become their names. When meeting someone, you introduce yourself by your trail name. These names can either be self-appointed or, more commonly, they’re given to you by someone else based on some physical trait, trail happening or whatever someone thinks is a good name. You never refer to yourself by your real name. In fact, ”Ryan Chittick” doesn’t even exist on the trail.

How did it start? Well, a man named Earl Shaffer attempted the first end-to-end hike in 1948. Since no one had ever attempted the entire 2000 mile hike, he was coined ”the crazy one,” thus giving birth to the trail name custom. Since then, it has just become on of those quirky A.T. things.

The names can be goofy, such as ”Are We,” which is short for ”are we there yet?” but I’ve found that they take on a similarity to fighter pilot names. Remember back to Top Gun and the names like Goose and Maverick. It’s a lot like that. A partial list of names I’ve encountered includes:

Stinger
Swamp dawg
The Saucemaster
Bluebelle
Miss Graceful
Coyote
Woohah (think of the movie ‘’scent of a woman”)
Boatdrinks
M&M
Couch
Candyman
Sleeping Beauty
Radar
Yonder
Spock
Evil Eye

What’s mine? Well, it was originally ‘’swampfoot,” hence the URL of the blog. I can’t even count the number of times someone asked me if i was from the bayou. Instead, i had to explain the fact that i just have darn sweaty feet. For whatever reason, swampfoot was difficult for people to remember. I’ve veen called swampman, swampthing, swampcheese, and a few other variations. Often times, people would just call me ‘’swamp.” I’ve since officially changed to simply ‘’swamp,” eliminating the confusion.

Sure, it took a while to adjust to being called by another name, but now, hearing the name Ryan is just a bit weird to me. It’s a bit like when you say a word over and over again until it almost sounds foreign. Getting a fresh perspective on my own name was definitely something i had not anticipated.

 

One of those Days…

On the trail, there are just those days that kick your ass. You’re dragging, the hills seem way steeper than the map shows, you trip an abnormal number of times, the water sources are spread out too far, your knee pain is flared up, or you just don’t feel like hiking. These days seem to happen once a week or so and you just come to accept them.

Then, on the other hand, there are days like last thursday. Wednesday night, I had set up camp behind the general store in Catawba. The owner of this quaint mom and pop shop welcomed hikers and invited them to stay on the property. I woke up at 6AM on thursday, stumbled into the general store and had one of my best breakfasts on the trail. Two homemade sausage and egg biscuits and a 16 ounce coffee. These werent your standard McDonalds biscuits (which i rather enjoy). These suckers were flaky, buttery and just plain perfect. The day was off to a good start. After packing up, i had a 1.5 mile walk up a rather steep highway. Not wanting to exend my energy, i figured i’d try to hitch. After about 5 minutes of cars zooming by i decided to give up. I crossed back over so i could walk against oncoming traffic. Not but 15 seconds after i gave up, a car going in the opposite direction that i was going pulled off and a gangly college kid with a high voice and buddy holly glasses hollered ”need a ride?” Awesome. I definitely didnt want to hike up this narrow road facing cars and trucks doing 60+ MPH. Once he dropped me off, i had a relatively easy walk up to McAfee Knob, an absolute highlight of the trip. Check out the picture at
http://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/0406/excerpt1.html
I hung out up there with some buddies for an hour and a half before heading on down the trail. i stopped off at a spring to replenish my water when i met a trail crew out of roanoke doing some boundary maintenance. The leader came over and offered me some fresh golden delicious apples from their cooler. Ahhh, fresh fruit; a total rarity on the trail. The day just keeps getting better. i moved on down from the spring when i came across a deer in the middle of the trail. It was unfazed by my clomping down the trail. I stopped within 20 feet of it and it just looked at me, wagged its tail and kept on eating right next to the trail. I had to move past it and when i did, i barely moved 10 feet to get out of my way. Thankfully these lands are protected from hunting, because this doe wouldnt stand a chance against the men in orange vests. After i left the doe i moved on to the even cooler site, Tinker Cliffs. It’s similar to McAfee with its rock overhangs but it extends for a half mile. I chose a nice ledge, plunked down and caught a little shut-eye in the afternoon sun. I couldn’t possibly imagine anything I’d rather have been doing at that moment. I woke up from my nap and decided it was time to move on and set up camp. The destination that evening was Lambert’s Meadow campsite, a small grassy area adjacent to a stream on the backside of Tinker Mountain. After scaring up 4 more deer on my descent, i arrived and set up camp. While i was setting up, yet another deer wandered through camp eating grass. A couple buddies arrived and we had an enjoyable evening of hanging out, eating and chatting before the warm, breezy night came to a close. A lovely ending to a perfect day.

While the days spent wandering the woods are overall positive, they generally have some element of difficulty and struggle. Rare are days such as the one i had last thursday. When they do occur, you feel revitalized and all the wear and tear of the trail difficulties evaporate, reminding you of just why exactly you decided to tackle this ridiculous undertaking.

 

Music Playlist – Week of June 1st

I’ve had a request to post what I’ve been listening to on the trail, so here’s one for all the music geeks….

here’s a list of album I’ve listened to in whole or grabbed selections from:

Mastodon – Leviathan
Mastodon – Blood Mountain
Blonde Redhead – 23
Rovo – Imago
Radian – Juxtaposition
A Minor Forest – A Flemish Altruism
Queen – Greatest Hits
Cheer-Accident – Salad Days
Comus – First Utterance
David Axelrod – Capitol Records Years
DJ Shadow – Endtroducing
Erik Malmberg – Den Gatfulla Manniskan
Fela Kuti – Confusion/Gentlemen
Hella – There’s No 666 in Outer Space
Manu Dibango – Makossa Music
Picchio Dal Pozzo – ST
Reanimator – Special Powers
Six Finger Satellite – Law of Ruins

 

Music Saves

So I just finished my first da back on the trail! I opted to carry a ipod along for this stretch and boy am I loving it! Nothing lifts your spirits when your wheezing and practically crawling up a hill than for ”the safety dance” to come up on shuffle.
There’s something aou having music that just makes the hiking tha much more pleasant. a group of hikes passed me in the opposite direction heading toward pearisburg and asked m how far it was. I said, ”oh a mile and a half or two, tops.” in actuality, it was probably more like 5 miles. I guessi was in the zone.

I am now a happy hiker.