Appalachian Ben

My thru-hike in a series of lists (gear, weight, stats, other fun trivia, TLDR): -Sitting in Bangor waiting for the bus, I was lucky to spot a baggage scale that the nice man let me use to measure my pack’s “base weight” (everything besides food, fuel, water, and items worn). 16.6lbs. It should've been a little bit higher because I was wearing some of the clothes I normally wouldn't wear while hiking, so let's say somewhere between 17 and 18lbs. This is my 3-season setup (as opposed to a single season/summer setup), that consists of my warmer sleeping bag and some warmer clothes for temperatures that can get below freezing at night. -Pictured is all of the gear I carried at the end of the hike, spilled out onto the kitchen floor. Compare this photo with an earlier posting of pre-hike gear photos and stats for each item. From top left to bottom right, with some comments and reflections: -Down puffy: great lightweight item that doubled as a pillow. Sometimes I wished I'd had a synthetic puffy rather than down, to be able to sweat and hike in on occasion; however, a guaranteed dry jacket had its advantages -Dry bag for down puffy: bought this along the trail, allowed me to keep the jacket at the top of my pack in its own dry bag, for easy access on a cold summit, in camp, or whenever I've stopped and am wet and cold -1L SmartWater bottles w/sport tops: sport tops, though good for sipping, are not as effective as I'd hoped for backflushing the Sawyer Squeeze water filter, so I ended up carrying the syringe at the end -Gatorade bottle: for scooping dirty (unfiltered) water into the dirty bag, also can carry 0.5L extra, and can use as a pee bottle if it's downpouring while I'm in my tent. Only had to do this once, and replaced the bottle before using it as a scoop again -Ziploc of loving wishes written on rice paper from family members from my send-off party prior to hiking--ultralight love -Talisman my dad gave me that I put a bit of soil into from Springer, Harper’s Ferry, and Katahdin -Cable for charging backup battery -2-USB wall charger: heavier than a single USB charger, but allowed me to charge my phone and battery simultaneously, often saving many hours or even a full night in town just to obtain full charges on both -Card from my mom she sent to me in Monson -Cable for charging phone -Backup battery: performed well even in the cold when my phone battery and GPS device battery were erratic. -Billfold: hair tie, contained a bunch of grocery store reward program cards (plus money, stamps, etc.) -Phone tripod: probably my most luxurious luxury item, used exclusively for watching Netflix while in town (not for taking nature photos like I thought it'd be for!) -Princeton Tec headlamp: submersible, got this at Trail Days from gear rep who traded it for my Black Diamond (non-submersible) lamp. Both worked just fine. I think headlamps are completely overrated and over-reviewed, at least for camping and hiking purposes -Pill pouch containing waterproof Nexcare tape for blisters: works much better than Moleskine -Pill pouch containing nail clippers: got pretty rusty, but didn't really matter; used just as much for cuticle trimming -Pill pouch containing glasses cloth: keeping my glasses clean and fog-free was a constant problem, particularly when climbing uphill in the rain or humidity. Often had to take off my glasses to climb, which of course invited other risks. Taking off my hat sometimes helped the glasses “breathe” better -Pill vial with meds: Benadryl, Ibuprofen, NyQuil, DayQuil -Pill vial with sewing kit: extra bug mesh, needles, thread -Apple headphones: not water resistant or meant for outdoor activities whatsoever. Besides the microphone and volume control always malfunctioning, when enough condensation was trapped in them, this caused the circuit that controls Siri and play controls to randomly become tripped, always interrupting music and podcasts (which I was consyantly listening to) -Mini Swiss Army knife: I almost never used this. Occasionally when sewing or needing a beard trim the scissors came in handy -Tick key: used once for the singular tick I had on the entire trail (treated gear w/Permethrin 4 times, used 100% daily when it was buggy) -Backup headlamp: barely ever used, but I liked having a light accessible in my hip pocket if I needed -Headphone adapter for LifeProof case: to my surprise, I totally loved this (and the case as well). It made my phone submersible even with headphones in. This made using my phone in the rain so much easier -Potable Aqua iodine tablets: backup purification if my filter or water bag failed. Used only once in NY when the water was so bad that I used this, filtered, and boiled it just to be safe. That's also the time a tadpole clogged my filter up -Ziploc full of extra clean glasses cloths -Ziploc of earplugs: mandatory gear item for sleeping in shelters and hostels. Not just for snorers, but to go to bed early when other hikers are awake and noisy -Ziploc with miscellaneous items: antibiotic cream; extra bungee; bandaids; alcohol wipes; tenacious tape -Ziploc with 8 extra AAA batteries (for headlamp and GPS device) -Sleeping pad repair kit -2,000-miler paper application given to me at the Ranger station at Mt. Katahdin. I was NOBO thru-hiker #1000 this year. -Thermarest Z-seat sit pad: a favorite gear item. Used as an ass-warmer and seat when cold or rocky or in my tent; doubled as a pillow; tripled as a broom to sweep out my tent in the morning -Tent poles: carried separate from tent for better packability -Tent: the envy of many thru-hikers. I loved my tent, a NEMO Hornet 2-person. Ali and I fit in it together. Weighed just 2lbs, had 2 doors and 2 vestibules. Great design, performed wonderfully in a downpour and/or moderate wind (but the poles would invert in a severe wind, to be expected). Footprint doubled as a protective layer for my sleeping pad when sleeping in a shelter to prevent snags and abrasions. Downsides of tent: difficult to dry-pitch or stow in a storm. Sometimes wished I'd had a hammock for this reason -Sleeping pad: no major complaints; occasional valve trouble; extremely comfortable and did not make much noise when combined with my sleeping bag which it slid into nicely -Miscellaneous dry bag: started with 2, got rid of one early on -Canister fuel: always preferred using the larger ones. So much more value and convenience, a bit more weight when full than the small ones. Another thing that can help avoid an unnecessary town trip -Stove system: performed well, maybe would've gone with an alcohol system, or a lighter pocket-rocket style stove, but I had no real complaints -Sleeping bag in dry compression sack: I loved my sleeping bag. I always felt like I got better sleep than many hikers with lighter but less comfortable setups. The Sierra Designs backcountry bed 800 can definitely be used for a long-distance hike. I refuse to call it a luxury, but rather a necessity if it drastically improves sleep, as it did for me -Poles: the debate is old and stupid. Use poles. These things saved my life and limbs at least once a day. I almost never fell. Spend the money on light comfortable poles. Cheaper ones can snap unexpectedly, defeating the whole purpose -2 pairs sock liners: wore one every day; kept others dry -Pants: didn't carry these in the summer, almost never hiked in them, loved having them in camp when it was cold, used as a pillow when it was very cold and I was wearing my puffy to sleep -Sleeping socks: always kept dry -Backup hiking socks: kept dry -Primary hiking socks: the mothership of stench. Wore the same socks every single day, whether wet or smelly. Especially toward the end when there were river fordings, I'd rather have two pairs of dry socks than two pairs of wet socks -Food bag: worked well combined with OP Saks, never had a problem with animals or food getting wet -Bear bag rope and rock bag: often wasn't long enough, but I really stopped caring about bear-bagging once I hit New England -Baseball cap: never used built in bug net, thought this was kind of gimmicky, but I always wore the hat, it kept rain off glasses and sun out of eyes -Beanie: almost never took off in last month of hike -Merino neck gaiter: put over pillow to soften pillow when sticky/sweaty -Patagonia capilene mid-layer: bought this begrudgingly in Stratton ME, and was ultimately glad I did. As rarely as I used it, probably kept away ye ole hypothermia on some cold/wet summits and in early morning hiking -Merino long underwear top/bottom: top doubled as town shirt -Merino boxers -Cotton bandana: cut this in half early on to use half as a sweatband, and half for wiping snot/sweat. -Brooks windproof gloves: used a few times in the beginning and maybe just once at the end: hands were never too cold once I was moving, but I considered them a necessity nevertheless -Clothes dry bag: doubled as sleeping pad pump -Shorts: 5”, cut out liner layer for extra breathability. Favorite part of these was the side pockets I used for my guidebook and phone. Sometimes, however, when it was really wet from sweat or rain, it made it difficult to operate the phone’s touchscreen when the pockets were soaked -Synthetic T-shirt: got rid of my holey merino orange shirt and picked up this Brooklyn Half Marathon shirt in Gorham NH (the Brooklyn part helped get me a hitch once!). I missed having wool, but the synthetic was fine, didn't get too smelly that last month -Compression shorts: these should probably be incinerated -Toilet bag: wet wipes; tissue pack; hand sanitizer -Water filter: Sawyer Squeeze worked fine, but always seemed not to flow optimally. O-Ring fell out early on, got replacements from Tractor Supply Co -Platypus 2L Dirty Water Bag: including this and the bottles, I could carry 4.5L total, which I had to do s handful of times; had one of these bags rip in VA, replaced once -Sawyer Squeeze syringe: for backflushing, always helped, started carrying only in NH -Crocs: love/hate these; too heavy; ultimately smelled terribly; super comfortable, great town/camp shoes -Odor Proof (OP) Saks (3): 2 large for food; 1 small for toiletries -Mountain House lasagna: only food I had left at the end! -Ziploc for trash -Long Titanium spoon -Black contractor garbage bag: for pack liner, always reassured me in a downpour -Shoes: Brooks Cascadia 11s; first pair I switched out for bigger size in NC; second pair wore for 1,000+ miles to PA; third pair wore for 1,000+ miles from PA to ME Trail running gaiters: namesake for my trail name “DJ Space Gator”; most commonly asked about item by day hikers on trail. Very helpful for blister prevention (keep feet clean), but very few non-thru-hikers know about these. Made by Dirty Girl -Toothbrush/toothpaste -Ziploc with probiotics -Pack: loved my pack; had to switch out Med for Sm hipbelt at Trail Days. By the end, even the Sm was too big. Will get bigger hip pockets in the future (MLD’s were far too small to carry substantial snacks, led to my eating way more Clif bars than I would've liked, oh well). Downsides of pack: single compartment always needs to be packed meticulously and in order; top of pack frame buckled a bit when underpacked, but thankfully never cracked -Rain jacket: rarely used, but essential; used more as wind/warmth layer than for rain protection -Frogg Toggs poncho: most modified item; cut front shorter and added fasteners and bungee/carabiner to keep in place over pack and in front while on, especially when windy. Kept everything wonderfully dry in the worst downpours, made hiking in the rain pleasantly dry and warm at times -Rain skirt: didn't start with this but loved having it to hike in the rain, let everything breathe a lot better than rain pants would've, even kept feet dry in a drizzle or moderate rain -Pack cover: no complaints, kept stuff dry and sometimes used it for protection when boulder climbing, cut away unnecessary stuff sack -SPOT GPS device: good but not great product; wished it had a better way to notify user that messages were sent (this feature wasn't wholly reliable); only high-end batteries lasted more than a few days -Ultra-absorbent towel: awesome little thing, could use to mop out tent when wet -Extra tent stake: used as trowel -Okay, so that's the gear list! Despite a few quibbles, I was overwhelmingly pleased with my gear selection. So much thanks to my buddies and co-workers at REI Cranston for their help and expertise. There were just a few people working there with experience in long-distance hiking or theory though, so without pointing any fingers whatsoever, I do plan to write a short post soon called “What your outfitter might not tell you about long-distance hiking.” Working at REI was great, for the friends I met, and for working for a great company/co-op (and learning a little bit about running such a business), and for some incredible discounts on really pricey gear. But this does lead me to a short discussion about finances, an aspect of thru-hiking I sincerely despised, including during the months leading up to my hike, and even now. -I did not save receipts or keep meticulous track of how much gear, food, transportation and lodging cost, but let's just say I know how much money I had and how much I have now, and believe I grossly underestimated what the cost of hiking would be: that from the time I quit my salaried job to now, it cost in the order of 5 figures, probably divided more or less evenly between 3 categories of gear, food/lodging/transportation (on-trail costs), and pre-hiking costs (significant car trouble, working part-time for minimum wage at REI, and other living expenses between October and April). -A major factor here related to money that I do not think is discussed enough in trail forums is age. There are generally 2 major demographics of thru-hikers: college-age and retirees. There are very few thru-hikers in my age bracket, let's say 25 to 45 (not accounting for young retired vets or other government pensioners of which there a decent number). Most estimates of cost came from hikers who were in the younger category when they thru-hiked (in the $3-6K total range), but I only realized this in retrospect of budgeting. A major reason why younger hikers can budget less seems to do with who they are interested in hanging out with and what level of discomfort and dirtiness they're willing to tolerate. For me another major factor is, despite my gregariousness on the trail, I am still introverted, and found myself many times craving privacy, particularly when going into a town. This made the cost of lodging significantly higher, and I'm pretty sure that if I'd made a habit of regularly squeezing with 4 college-aged kids into a motel room who were planning on taking psychedelics or getting wasted that night, it would've maybe cost less, but exhausted me early on, to the point I probably would've quit. On the other end of the age spectrum were the retirees who usually had lots of disposable income and like me, typically wanted a private room and wanted durable quality gear (not freegan crap found in hiker boxes). In sum, hiking solo, valuing quality gear, and needing privacy to stay sane makes a thru-hike thousands of dollars more expensive. Working part-time at REI for gear discounts is not lucrative. I don't know if I could've done any of it any differently, but I probably could have saved myself a lot of anxiety about money if I'd had more realistic expectations for what the hike would cost me, not relying on some stranger on an Internet forum to help me budget. -A note on receiving charity (aka “trail magic”) while thru-hiking: this is a complicated and interesting subject deserving of lengthy discussion amongst the long-distance hiking community. My basic thoughts are: There was so much being given out at random times by strangers at roadsides in the form of nourishment and occasional transportation or other services, I am overwhelmingly grateful for everything I received and the connections I made with these folks. However, fitting squarely into the shady American charity apparatus and culture, the motivations and agenda of these givers did not always seem clean, but at times had a flavor of institutional obligation or spiritual gamesmanship, and attached to this, the occasional feeling of being judged by these charitable givers as transient, lost, or spiritually unanchored, when in fact at times I felt the opposite could be the case, in other words that the thru-hiking community has a tremendous body of wisdom to offer others, particularly spiritual seekers of Christian or other religious practices. This was almost never a major issue but was something I thought about a lot after Trail Days, and popped into my head whenever a stranger offered me something. The Twelve Tribes communities are a kind of extreme example of all this, but represent a kind of opportunistic preying on the AT community for evangelizing and recruitment (and from what I know, have some questionably bigoted practices and structures). -Last thought on money: I felt quietly conflicted throughout my hike about ever asking people I know for money. Besides my 30th birthday, when lots of loved ones asked what I wanted and my response was that the only practical gift was some cash so I could be at ease getting a hotel or something (and thank you all so much for doing that!), I never asked or talked too much about my need for money, and here's why: it's the same kind of feeling I have about receiving random charity from strangers--please go do something else with your money. Though the hiking money has been tight and was more costly than I'd expected, I never really needed more. I have a Master's degree, I can go earn more money. If you want to support important activities in the outdoors, maybe donate to a conservation movement or to supporting greater access to the outdoors for wider demographics of people. A fellow hiker told me recently about Girl Trek and Outdoor Afro, both seemingly amazing organizations that work on getting groups of women of color in the outdoors, a hugely important and consequential movement, and maybe they accept donations. Despite loving the outpouring of emotional support I received from all kinds of unexpected places, in the end I am so glad I didn't ask for money, or really need to. I would've stopped if I couldn't afford it. This helped me keep a clear conscience during this self-centered activity (and I don't use “self-centered” negatively, it's just a fact). -Okay, here's some extra fun data from my hike. The AT is 2,189.2 miles long. It is said to consist of the equivalent elevation gain of climbing Mt. Everest from sea level (29,028ft) about 9 times, and on average takes about 5 million steps. My iPhone came equipped with a fitness tracking app, and at the end of most days I'd look at the mileage recorded, flights climbed, and steps taken. I started to wonder how much extra walking a thru-hiker does besides trail-walking (e.g. walking to the privy, campsite, to water, around town, to get a hitch, etc.). I wondered how accurate the fitness tracker was, and I noticed that it was predictably about 10% higher in miles walked at the end of the day from what the guidebook said the distance I went was. Either there's some error in the app, or this extra distance recorded accounted for all the extra walking a thru-hike entailed, or probably a combination of both. The Health app had individual daily data points which I simply added up to see how close the above predictions came to its data, as well as how much extra off-trail walking a thru-hike entails. The results were remarkable. As a mental benchmark, consider that I walked 31 miles on my 30th birthday, and walked only one day in October, summiting Katahdin -Walking/running distance (miles): April: 364.96 May: 527.45 June: 478.15 July: 441.67 August: 424.64 September: 485.51 October: 14.82 TOTAL: 2,737.2 miles Off-trail distance walked: 548 miles Longest day: 31.2 by the guidebook (34.32 according to app), on 5/29 -Flights climbed (10ft flights, iPhone measures elevation ascended using built-in barometer): April: 4,268 May: 7,445 June: 6,085 July: 3,737 August: 5,677 September: 7,798 October: 256 (Katahdin) TOTAL: 27,468 flights (or 274,680ft, multiplied by 2 gives total elevation gain and loss of 549,360ft) 549,360ft is equivalent to climbing up and down Mt. Everest from sea level 9.46 times Most flights in single day: 603 (on 9/15) -Steps walked: April: 635,615 May: 1,086,197 June: 1,014,812 July: 881,671 August: 888,887 September: 1,010,421 October: 31,334 TOTAL: 5,548,937 steps walked Most steps walked in single day: 71,508 (5/29) -Pretty cool, right? In conclusion, the iPhone health app may not be perfectly accurate but seems precise with relation to itself, and squares nicely with known quantitative estimated metrics of the AT. -Here’s a few more fun numbers and trivia from my hike: Bear encounters: I lost count after 30 Problematic bear encounters: 0 Most bears seen at once: 10 (in NJ; 9 cubs, 1 mama) Bears seen in The Smokies: 0 Most bears seen in state: Virginia (mostly in Shenandoah) Bears that saw me: probably hundreds Large snake encounters: appx 12 Rattlesnake encounters: 4 Problematic rattlesnake encounters: 1 (in NJ, almost stepped on it, became defensive, rattled a lot, yikes!) Hellbender encounters: 1 (in GA, google it) Pony encounters: a bunch in VA Times I shit my pants: 1 (in NH at the base of Mt. Mousilauke, near a stream) Shits I gave about shitting my pants: 0 Extra miles I accidentally hiked on the Long Trail in VT: 10 (probably my worst day on the trail; a 17 mile day with little food turned into a rainy 27 mile day with no food) Total time-off taken (not including neros, zeros, or heros): 21 days (3 in Franklin, 4 in DC, 4 in NYC, 10 in VT) States hiked in: 15 (including NM, where Ali and I visited during my 10 day break) Favorite state: Maine Favorite sections, descending order: Roan Highlands (TN); 100 mile wilderness (ME); Baxter/Katahdin (ME); NJ; MA; Whites (NH) Favorite trail town: Delaware Water Gap PA (live jazz right on the trail!) Least favorite state: NY (heat dome, baby!) Least favorite sections, worst to least worst: NY; Upper PA (rocks); Whites (NH; beautiful, but the AMC was such a pain in the ass and made things unnecessarily dangerous for thru-hikers, so I love/hated it) Least favorite trail town: Palmerton PA, sorry but that place really sucked pretty bad Yuppiest trail town: Hanover NH (there was a J. Crew right on the trail!) Most depressed trail town: Erwin TN or Atkins VA Most Appalachian section, culturally: TN Most culturally confusing hostel: Scotties memorial hostel in TN. Dude had “Bernie 2016” stickers everywhere and a big-ass Confederate flag in his yard. I got a private cabin w/electricity and a bunk for $5 Number of black thru-hikers I met: under 10 Number of white thru-hikers I met: maybe thousands Times walking through recently burning forest fires: 4 (probably about 15 miles total, 13 of which were just north of Hot Springs NC, and were still burning when I hiked through) Hottest temperature: 104°F (in NY) Coldest temperature: high 20s, at night in GA Times it snowed: 1 (going over Big Bald in TN) Times it rained: seriously? Times I saw a 2-seater privy: 3 Oldest thru-hiker I met: 80yo Youngest (solo) thru-hiker I met: 14yo Youngest thru-hiker(s) w/parent I met: 2 brothers, 9yo and 11yo, hiking w/dad Thru-hiker registration # in Harper's Ferry: GA-ME NOBO #946 Thru-hiker registration # in Baxter State Park: GA-ME NOBO #1000 Earliest I woke up to hike: 3:46am Most liters of water consumed in a day: 12 (probably was that 104° day in NY) Times I took my pack off to fit through boulders: 3 (1 at Lemon Squeezer in NY; 2 at Mahoosuc Notch in ME) Dogs I saw finish a thru-hike: 1 (Blade’s German Shepard) Seeing-eye dogs I met hiking w/owner: 1 Trump supporters I met hiking: many, probably half of all thru-hikers Of those, number I'd consider deplorable: 1 Different podcast shows I listened to during my hike: 144 Favorite new podcasts I discovered while on the trail: FiveThirtyEight Elections; Our National Conversation About Conversations About Race; Vox’s The Weeds; More Perfect; Beautiful Stories from Anonymous People Favorite music to hike to: Gorillaz Favorite hiking food: white cheddar cheez-its Most hated hiking food: a big tie between beef summer sausage, Snickers bars, Knorrs rice sides, instant coffee, instant oatmeal…. okay basically everything except cheez-its. Favorite time of day: getting to camp and setting up my tent Worst time of day: putting on wet/cold shorts and t-shirt when it's still dark out and in the 30s, and the next 20 minutes of shivering hiking until I warm up and dry off Most overrated part of hiking: views Most underrated part of hiking: privies Favorite trail name: a young guy named “Grandma” My full trail name: “DJ Space Gator and The Perilous Unknown” My trail nicknames: “Peril” or “DJ Space Gator” Peril refers to the chapel perilous (google it), a mythological concept surrounding the final stage of initiation the hero goes through just prior to his goal (say, attaining the Grail), in which he is uncertain whether what is propelling him forward are natural or supernatural forces. He is full of both doubt and momentum simultaneously. Thanks for reading! Please leave comments or thoughts on Facebook, I really love reading and responding to them

There was never a map. I hiked alone. A winding green tunnel without rules, just conventions and the wisdom hiding everywhere, a primitive state indeed. The 6 month grail quest is over, Peril is done. In bed, Dorothy wakes up, looks around with fresh ambivalence about the world she sees, closes her eyes and sorely tries to dream it again. On my own raw feet, walking around slowly now, this present world seems rather to be the dream: the refrigerator goes here, the sink goes there; flush the toilet after going; don't eat too much it's impolite; and choosing which clothes to wear feels like costuming for a play, not me exactly. The scaffolding of daily forest rituals has fallen away now; the momentum to continue has abruptly stopped; the hunger has gone; the set has been torn down. It's the littlest things I didn't expect to confuse me now, and it's the littlest idiosyncrasies I miss from the trail: dress and undress in perfect order to stay warm and dry; filter enough water for nighttime tea and morning coffee; immerse the bruised feet in the icy stream; find the perfect slope and cushion for my tent--I even like a few ground roots for extra tension if it's raining; and hike just far enough for the perfect “nero” the next day. These were the thoughts that consumed me for months, sometimes anxiously, but always with delight. Why I wanted to hike, why I committed to hike, why I continued hiking after starting, why it was important to finish: these are all distinct phases and mindsets of the last 6 months. The impulse, the word, the slog, the finish line, and now, reentry. While on the trail, whenever someone (usually a day hiker) would ask me “why'd you decide to do it,” I'd have to jog my memory to remember what I felt a year or 9 months ago. Burnt out with work, single (at the time), craving solitude and deep greens and browns, wanting to accomplish something tangible, inalienable, and altogether human (rather than abstract, academic, or transient), I knew the impulses and circumstances aligned. Months into the hike, I'm hungry, worrying about money and finishing on time, Ali and I are back together, every fear of the woods is conquered (took a few months and over 30 bear encounters), so why continue? It's not like there was anything ahead I hadn't seen before (oh how wrong I was!), or any sense that hiking, say, 1,500 miles is not its own accomplishment (this was the line I told to friends who had to get off the trail without finishing). I kept going, for one out of stubbornness, and I'd predicted this would be the case; and I'd said I would (I gave my word); despite feeling physically crappy all the time, I also felt kind of amazing and unstoppable in a way I'd never had. I'd grown immune to good views and pretty waterfalls, but I'd also grown so fond of my sleeping bag and tent and all my camp rituals, and I'd fallen in love with the sometimes chaotic but always beautiful dynamics and people of the hiking community. I mean, these people are so weird and sometimes outrageous and rude, or brilliant and subversive. Some of them are always high--something I find astonishing and even impressive (especially considering hiker hunger). Some people are old as hell. Some people are ashamed that they've hiked the AT and other long trails so many times, afraid the world thinks they're foolish or unproductive (a feeling I can understand). Some people are probably psychopaths. Some Southerners and hillbillies carry deadly weapons, “just in case.” Some hippies carry more dope than socks. Some young women read Wild and the rest was history. Many hikers have served and some have killed and almost died themselves in yet another theater, another enclosed reality of war. Some have seen the verge of death or destitution. And some, those in perhaps my favorite category, appear so normal it's odd. This love, for these weirdos, was keeping me going when nothing else really was. Those dull times in Virginia, Vermont, there were always new and old people to see and catch up with. “Did you see that moose scat?” “Do you remember this hiker; are they still hiking?” “Is the spring dry?” The days were full of these little conversations, always pleasant. By the time I got to New England I felt like an athlete, a word I'd never before used to describe myself. My legs were stone, ready for literally anything. My pack, my shoes, my poles became extra body parts. Hadn't had a blister in months, the bruises on my hips were permanent and calloused. Toward the end, I'd be awake sometimes at 4, started hiking just after 5. Sometimes, having fallen asleep at 6:30, I'd be awake at 1, ready to hike, and have to force myself to go back to sleep. Toward the end in Maine, dropping temperatures began to flirt with winter, and it felt like the early Spring beginning again. Cold, wet, and dark, but unlike in the beginning, I was now hungry--really hungry. If every section of the trail had its own theme, its own challenge to face, the end was hunger. After Monson, the trail enters the 100 mile wilderness. The first 40 miles are mountainous with several ranges and alpine summits. The back 60 smooths out considerably and ends at Abol Bridge, the southern border of Baxter Park, leaving only 15 miles in the park till Katahdin. I packed 6 days of food for the wilderness, and decided to splurge on Mountain House freeze-dried meals for dinner, and to save weight, I carried fewer snacks. This was all a mistake. Just after entering the wilderness, it rained on and off with temperatures down into the 30s, and windy summits. I'd still be quite hungry after eating a freeze-dried 700-calorie meal, and this sent me into a semi-panic. So I decided I'd hike more miles each day to finish the wilderness in 5 days, a stretch for me considering how exhausted and hungry I'd become. This strategy only made me hungrier. It turns out, there's no good way around the mile to calorie ratio. After hiking 20 miles a day on fumes, I ran into some hikers that told me about White House Landing, a remote camp a bit off the trail that picks hikers up by boat, and would feed me. So I went, and spent $88 on a bed and shower, a 14” sausage and onion pizza, an all you can eat breakfast, and some resupply for the last few days on the trail. There was a wood stove and no electricity, on a remote lake, so it did not violate my 100-mile wilderness experience, and I was no longer hungry. After that, the last bit was surreal, just a few days of gentle walking through pristine forest. Lakes, loons, traces of moose, nice folk, happy thru hikers. Baxter was perfect, Katahdin even more so. The park discourages summiting Katahdin with a full pack, so for the first time on the entire trail, I carried just a few things in my pack up Katahdin and for the first time realized just how fit I’d become, hiking one of the hardest trails in New England, 5 miles straight up to 5,267ft in just under 2.5 hours, without breaking much of a sweat or getting out of breath. Poles stashed, lots of hand-over-hand climbing. My callouses and whatever tread I had left on my shoes (same ones since PA) were torn up by Katahdin, a lovely symbolic ending. Other hikers slipped and fell and bled and laughed and cried that last day. I smiled and cried a little after it was all done. Like the last day of camp, I walked down the remote dirt road alone with just my pack and a hitchhiking sign I'd just made that read “BOSTON?”, and that's when a few tears fell. A couple of cars passed and laughed at my sign. Then Bill the park ranger told me to get in the back of his pickup and he’d take me to town. At the park boundary I got in the front seat of his little green car. He said he didn't like his job and we talked about politics, he said his fellow Mainers were dumbasses to say no to a National Park, and with all this I felt the first hint I was returning to a society I'd been on sabbatical from. He took me to the hostel where I spent the night. I didn't want to linger, it was time to be done. The next morning I got a ride to Bangor where I got a bus to Boston, then a train to Providence, then a ride from my aunt and cousin to Wickford, where I am now for a few days getting my bearings back, cleaning my gear, looking at photos, trying to watch Lord of the Rings (I told some hikers that I'd try, but to be honest I really don't like it that much). I've got my car back, it smells a little but not as bad as my gear. I'll go to REI today and see some friends and get some gear detergent. Maybe I'll go see a movie, maybe I'll go for a walk outside. Though I joked for months about how this experience has made me a lover of the “great indoors,” I can't help but think about how I'd feel on a walk in the woods again. Perhaps I'll smile, though I'll probably cry. The sun is hitting the quaking green leaves outside today, there's no place like home. For me, I can rest and smile, the world is mine and ours again. There’s a bird calling, drawing us out, into the forest we'd once lost. Put down your petty gripes, and walk like you may never see it again.

No words yet, but I'm done.

Maine, on Fumes, from Monson 1., 2. Foggy dawns 3. The Bigelows, gusty but clear 4. Two-seater privy w/cribbage board betwixt 5. Mainer hostelier playing accordion: "I'm blind as a bat but learned as a girl." So beautiful, I clapped so hard 6. Sunrise atop a Baldpate 7. Mahoosuc Notch, most difficult mile on the whole trail: boulder sliding, climbing, occasional spelunking. Pack off, climb through. 8. Ferrying across the Kennebec: yes, a moment of canoeing is actually part of the trail 9. The scene at the shelter just before the downpour 10. The scene over breakfast at Harrison's, a remote Maine cabin 0.3 off the trail. 12 pancakes, eggs, sausage, coffee, juice. Starting the 100-mile wilderness tomorrow morning, the final section before Baxter and Katahdin. I'm exhausted but ready to finish. The trail community is tighter than I've ever seen it, pulsing with love and encouragement. Everyone's malnourished and woefully skinny, ready but excited. And cold: temperatures frosting every night, still have some mountain streams to ford. 6 days of food packed for the Wilderness. Weather-permitting, I will summit next Saturday, just shy of 6 months on the trail. Fumes, focus, and stubbornness drive me North now. Katahdin.

State 14 of 14! Outdated sign (I'm just past 1900, but I'm definitely in Maine now!

“I must say, climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are naught without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime” (E. Whymper, 1865; quoted in N. Howe’s Not Without Peril: 150 Years of Misadventure on the Presidential Range of New Hampshire, 2000)

Tomorrow will be my last day hiking in “The Whites,” and I feel legendary. I have hiked 1875.6 miles (313.5 left). The last week has: kicked my ass; been beautiful, amazing; had incredible weather; had terrible weather; not been life-threatening in any way; been the hardest trail by far; exhausted me to a point of general sleepiness--a fatigue beyond fatigue. Yesterday was a holy moment: summiting Mt. Washington while on an AT thru-hike can be a truly dangerous situation. Beyond fatigued, having hiked almost 2,000 miles and many 4,000-footers in the days leading up to it, the trail goes above treeline for 13 miles in the Presidential Range. There is little refuge in the alpine, particularly for thru-hikers without hut reservations, who depend on the ever-changing generosity and flexibility of the “hut croo,” who have a quota not to exceed for work-for-stays at huts for thru-hikers. If the weather’s bad, they can offer the hut to sleep in, but not always. “The Dungeon” below Lakes of The Clouds hut serves as an emergency shelter for thru-hikers (for $10/night), needing refuge from gale winds on Washington, or for those who would not like to work for their stay. Summiting Washington safely, and with a bonus incredible view, is rare and perhaps historic on its own. Been hiking with Bones for this whole past week. He's been a great Whites hiking partner. Part of hiking above treeline safely is having a second set of eyes for where the trail is not well-marked. And he sets a good pace to boot. So much more to say, but I'm exhausted and really just wanted to say hello world and post some photos before heading to sleep. “You're almost there!” and “Enjoy Maine!” are now the words of encouragement from outsiders. Fact is, I'm not there yet, and I just want to sleep. Rain tonight, Gorham tomorrow, Maine hopefully on Saturday….

Some mountains I climbed today: Little Haystack, Lincoln, Lafayette, Garfield, and half of South Twin. 478 floors climbed according to my phone. Had some imitation Girl Scout cookies at camp just now that I got from Family Dollar, a great ending to a great day. Also: there was a helicopter on top of Franconia Ridge--"that's a $10,000 fine!" the ridge-runner exclaimed. In the third photo; you can see a rare glimpse of Mt. Washington without cloud cover in the background. It's the tall one, I'll climb it, and the whole presidential range, in a couple of days from now. And my shirt has a LOT of holes and stitches. This is what happens when one backpacks with the same merino wool shirt on for 5 months (5 month trailiversary tomorrow!). Lots of love to you all.

The Whites, so far: It's 6, I'm in a hostel. Time to get up and hike more; mush! The White Mountains, as promised, are "their own thing." 4 bee stings at once, a sanitary 'accident', and several 4,000-footers on a couple days, several more today, and I am not deterred. Rather, the momentum is extraordinary to witness. I'm sweaty, but not out of breath or even too tired, scaling thousands of vertical feet with my full pack on. And again and again. It's a phenomenal state to be in: practiced, poised, focused. Every step, every footing and pole placement counts up here. Mousilauke and The Kinsman's are done; Lafayette and Garfield today. Welcome to The Whites.

I'm in New Hamster! 🐹🐹🐹 This other photo is at "The Lookout" back in VT, one of my favorite few places along the trail (360° rooftop view for sunset and sunrise atop a beautiful cabin sans H2O or electricity). 2 states left (though my dad says 1 and claims he used a calculator which I guess I have to trust). Feeling motivated to get through the Whites while there's good-ish weather. Hopefully a shower and laundry tonight or tomorrow, but we'll see....

I’ll be back on the trail today. Only about 45 miles to Hanover NH, 400-something to Katahdin. Times like these I fully hate walking. Every cell in my body aches, and the grand lessons and reasons to keep going aren’t obvious. But so again I’ll continue, and when the sun emerges I’ll go aah, yes, this is why. Needing no verbose explanation, it will be self-evident.

Some AT photos (not in order): 1. Josh, me, Robert 2. Greylock summit at dawn 3. Muddy Vermont legs. Vermud. 4. The Long Trail is the oldest long-distance trail in the US 5. These little bugs that are always swarming love this spot right under my chest strap buckle, as if they're suckling my salty sweat or something (gross, I know, but interesting nonetheless) 6. This neighborhood cat entered my tent the other morning when I was camped in Trail Angel Tom's backyard in Dalton, MA 7. You-pick blueberries at The Cookie Lady near Beckett, MA 8. An unusually gender-neutral privy somewhere in MA 9. Happy hiker 10. Glacial erratic in VT

This video is time-stamped 4:29am. I hiked up most of Mt. Greylock the night before and camped a few miles before the summit. I was up at 3:45 and hiking by 4:15 in order to meet a few buddies (Josh, Robert, and Mike) close to the summit of Greylock at 6. They brought hot coffee and an egg sandwich. I was delighted. We hiked 7.3 miles together, up and over Greylock and into N. Adams/Williamstown. Then I resupplied at Stop and Shop and hiked into Vermont. All in one day. I rarely hike in the dark; but climbing up the highest point in Massachussets in absolute dark (there was no moon), was surreal and rewarding in a whole new way. After over 4 months on the AT, little adventures like this add welcome excitement.

Water, heat in NY: I grew up knowing that NY has some of the world’s best water. Businesses in other cities, trying to replicate NYC’s famous bagels and pizza, are known to have NY’s famous water shipped far and wide. However, the water situation along the AT was abysmal to say the least. Equatorial heat and humidity during the cable news-coined “heat dome” made dehydration and heat exhaustion real risks. One day, I needed to filter and drink 12 liters. That's about 24 pounds of water, and I still wasn't peeing clear. Many otherwise-reliable water sources in NY were completely dried up during the heat dome. Sometimes there were a solid 10 miles between water sources, and the AT is not easy in NY. The water featured in this photo was from a small pool in a dried up stream bed, after being filtered. There were frogs and tadpoles swimming in it, so I had to be careful not to drink them, though I think some tadpoles probably clogged my filter. I filtered, boiled, and treated this pictured water with iodine. This water tasted absolutely horrid, like toilet bowl cleaner when all was said and done. But it kept me alive. And when the last few days of rain arrived, I certainly got wet, but remembered that there is no life without water. And now streams and pee are all running clear!

I really cannot believe it, but this afternoon I'll enter Massachusetts! I haven't posted anything in a while due to a combination of seeing some amazing people in NJ, NY, and CT--too many to name--and the physical reality of the oppressive heat (and rash), dried up water sources (boo NY!), and the actual hiking, which continues to be fun and wonderful and engaging. I hope I get to post more soon, even if just short posts and some photos. Hello New England my old home. It's really good to be back. Photos: mom and I on the trail in NJ; Pace likes to sleep on picnic tables, tentless; old water fountains in NY look like toilets; it was 104° at the highest point in NY on the AT; Grand Central, Apple gave me new headphones without my having to tell them the old ones were waterlogged; my friend Emily and I on Governor's Island; resupplying at Trader Joe's in Brooklyn; post-storm sunset in Brooklyn; a cool water tower in CT; mom and Ali and my grandma came and visited in CT and I tried on a suit sent to me by another hiker for Ali's brother's upcoming wedding.

But I didn’t come out here looking for an adrenaline rush; rather, the opposite, mostly for quiet. Surely I’ve had stretches of quietude. But being out here long enough, living out here for almost 4 months now, one discovers through these violent disruptions of paradise, that the natural world is not a fundamentally quiet place. Though Edenic compared to the bustle of the civilized world, of Walmarts on resupply days, the natural world was not designed for mine or anyone’s pleasure. I shit in the woods, sometimes in the rain. I sleep an inch off the ground and every time I shower it seems pointless because the sweat and dirt will reaccumulate quickly anyway. These are not complaints; in fact I’m perfectly happy with the way things are, as if I, as a human animal, have evolved to accept all of these things without argument. The bears, the snakes, the deer and rabbits, aren’t out here for our entertainment, consumption, or even as some pseudo-spiritual teacher. Rather, they are themselves, autonomous. If I were hungry enough, I suppose I’d have to eat one; and so would you. Encountering “nature”, as with today’s snake, is an experience which holds lessons only incidentally–tread lightly, respect the earth, blah blah–but “nature” is not exactly a classroom. It is not our manifest destiny to study, classify, or control it either. It’s simply all there is. And if the rattler could talk: “You fool.”

1,183.2 = how many miles these badboy Brooks Cascadia 11s lasted me (Franklin, NC to Delaware Water Gap, PA). Thank you to the folks at Brooks for sending a free new pair which, thanks to the folks at the US Postal Service, I was able to bounce for free from post office to post office up the AT since North Carolina, until I needed them, which I certainly do now. Didn't pay a dime for these shiny new lime green hushpuppies. I'll enter New Jersey this afternoon with shiny kicks and a new outlook, since according to the above cartoon I found drawn at the hostel, NJ is completely flat, boring if anything. Sure. We'll see.... Also, live Jazz at the Deer Head Inn in DWG PA was fantastic! The horn player was particularly sublime in his stratospheric attempts. This Tuesday mom comes to find me. We're gonna try to walk a bit together on a flattish section then get a hotel. Pawling NY to get the train into the city is estimated the following Tuesday.