On August 8, 1980 I was scheduled to pick up my supply box from the post office in Glencliff, New Hampshire. At this point I was back on schedule so I'm sure that I got the box, but I don't really remember much about the town. Probably because my mind was on the mountains that lay ahead. I was getting ready to enter the White Mountains. In a letter to my sister, Sarah Kennedy, dated August 9, 1980 I said this:
"I'm about to head into the White Mountains. That means hiking above treeline in places. In the Presidential Range 12 miles are above treeline. And Mt. Washington has recorded the worst weather in North America. 60 days out of the year are nice. Last May they had 15 degree temperatures with 45mph winds and 3 inches of snow. That ain't whistling Dixie! Of course the A.T. goes right over Mt. Washington (who wants to miss the fun?). I know, 'Be Careful'. "
The White Mountains are big, majestic, and dangerous. The term "treeline" is the elevation where trees no longer grow. If a storm breaks out above treeline, there is nothing to block the wind. I was glad to have my wool shirt, parka, wool knickers, and long wool socks for this part of the trip. When I entered the White Mountains it was a very steep climb up into the mountain range. Periodically I would pass by "huts" where hikers could spend the night. Unfortunately, you had to have a reservation because the huts were so popular. Being a thru hiker, I didn't have a reservation and had to find other places to camp.
I remember one evening I kept trying to find a place to camp without any luck. The hut I passed earlier was full (I asked, just in case they had some room). I wasn't above treeline, but I was in an area where you aren't supposed to camp. The vegetation in that area is somewhat fragile because of the harsh environment. I kept going, and going but couldn't find a good place to camp. Finally the sun started to go down. I found a flat spot covered with pine needles that was just big enough for me to stretch out my sleeping bag. So, although it was against the rules, I slept there for the night, underneath the stars and the trees.
In the morning I got up early and threw my stuff into my pack. Then I hiked about a mile until I found a spot on the trail where I could stop and cook breakfast. I was avoiding the park rangers. If one showed up and asked if this is where I camped, I could honestly say "no". Well, no rangers showed up and I continued on down the trail.
I don't know if it was the same day or not, but about 11am I came up to another hut, high in the mountains. As I went inside, I saw a sign that said "All You Can Eat Pancakes". Either the hut cook was over zealous, or the hut guests weren't hungry that day. There were lots of left over pancakes. I paid a small fee (I think maybe $2) and ate to my heart's content!
The huts are amazing places. They are like large cabins with bunk rooms for the guests and a large room for eating & socializing. Hut guests are fed supper and breakfast and can usually get sandwiches to take with them for lunch. Because of their location high up in the mountains, everything must be carried in by backpack and all waste must be carried out. During the summer hiking season they employed people to carry large loads up to the huts. When I say "large", I'm talking about 100 pounds of food and/or supplies! The last thing a guy wants to carry back down the mountain is a bunch of leftover pancakes! The only thing that is not carried out by backpack is human waste. Periodically a helicopter would fly in and take out the tank from the outhouse. All of this is done to protect the fragile mountain environment.
After my pancake feast, I waddled down the trail with a big smile on my face. Nothing makes a backpacker happy like a full belly of food! I was getting deeper into the White Mountains. The elevation was getting higher. I knew that Mount Washington and the Presidential range was ahead. It was going to be a bigger challenge than I could imagine.
2011 update: This morning I weighed in at 168.6 pounds. I went running again in my neighborhood. The 3.4 mile route through my neighborhood is gradually getting easier to run. I just had a big plate of spagetti for lunch. Perhaps it will be a salad for supper! I have 3.6 pounds to trim off. When I look at myself in a mirror I don't see the big gut anymore! Just a little bit of "love handles" to trim off!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Campfire by the Lake
The miles continued to fly by as I walked North toward Maine. One night I met a couple of college age girls who were camping close to a lake. I had planned on hiking farther, but stayed and visited with them for a while. With their permission, I decided to camp with them by the lake. It was beautiful looking across the still water as the sun set through the woods. The girls asked if I could build a campfire and I obliged.
You would think that I built a lot of campfires while hiking the whole Appalachian Trail, but I didn’t. I had my tiny backpacking stove which was efficient in cooking everything I needed. Besides, cooking over a campfire put soot all over the outside of my cooking pot. That’s not bad for a weekend, but for five months it’s a pain. But for that night I made a campfire.
We sat beside the fire as the light slowly faded away. We talked as the stars gradually made their appearance in the sky and the moon slowly rose to greet us. We could still hear the night sounds of the woods and the lake as the fire popped and crackled in front of us. As the fire died down and began to softly glow, the two girls bid me good night and went into their tent. I stayed by the fire lost in thought as the coals slowly died down into grey ashes.
I realized that I had a lonely walk, but I was not completely alone. I met many friends along the way, like these two girls at the lake. And I was never completely alone because I knew that God was with me always. As I stretched out in my sleeping bag to go to sleep that night, I looked up into the starry sky and marveled at the wonder of creation and the majesty of The Creator!
Monday, September 5, 2011
My Night In A Vermont Homeless Shelter
If you can remember, way back when I started hiking the trail I made a friend with Nancy Lee Read (whom I gave the trail name “Southern Belle”). Nancy Lee was from Vermont and she sent me a letter telling me about their hike and how it was going. She also told me when I got to Rutland Vermont that I should get off and go to her hometown. She had already talked with the Pastor of her church and let him know that I would be stopping through. He agreed to put me up for the night and share some hospitality.
Sure enough, the trail crossed a road very near Rutland. So I went into town and found the church. It was a large, stone building. I asked to speak to the Pastor by his name and was ushered into a waiting area. After a little while I was allowed to enter his office. I told him who I was and that I was a friend of Nancy Lee Read. Yes, he recalled that she was on a big hiking trip. I mentioned that her letter said that perhaps I could spend the night somewhere in town. Certainly, he replied. If I would wait for a little while he would take care of me.
I did wait for a while and the Pastor emerged with another man. We were briefly introduced and the Pastor said this man would take care of me for the evening. I thanked him for his assistance and went with the man. To be honest, I was expecting to perhaps stay at the home of a church member but the man took me to a homeless shelter for the night. I wasn’t really homeless, but it was too late in the day to find any other place to stay for the night. I reluctantly agreed to stay the night.
Staying in a homeless shelter was quite a different experience. Most of the guys there were regulars and they knew the rules. They had to explain some of the rules to me and were surprised that I didn’t already know what I could do and what I couldn’t do. They served us a simple meal for supper. I got a bunk to sleep for the night. After a light breakfast in the morning I headed out to get back on the trail.
A couple of weeks later Nancy Lee came into town. She stayed for a few days and saw many friends. She asked her Pastor about me and he told her that I had come through and he had sent me to the homeless shelter. She was shocked and horrified. Apparently the Pastor misunderstood her message about showing hospitality. Later she apologized to me for the mixup. I told her not to worry about it. Every experience on the trail was different. Staying in the homeless shelter was an eye-opening experience. It’s something that I will never forget.
2011 Update: Today I weighed in at 168.8 pounds. I’ve put on more than a pound from yesterday, but weight can vary from day to day. Right now I am eating a home made bean burrito. I went running this morning. My route through my entire neighborhood is 3.4 miles. I think I see a salad in my future!
**P.S. I got an email today from Nancy Lee Read-Zeller. Yes, from the “Southern Belle” herself! We have not been in touch for a number of years. It’s good to hear from an old friend. She and her family are doing well!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The Hairy Legged Woman Is Back!
Some memories of the Appalachian Trail from 1980 are very clear. Others are somewhat clear. I don't remember the exact date or location, but the events of that evening were permanently burned into my memory banks.
At the end of a long day I crossed a road and walked a couple of miles to a shelter. No one else was there, so I began to settle in for the night. I cooked a huge pot of supper and had just finished eating when I heard a sound. In the woods, you get used to many different sounds. Some sounds are from the wind, some from the insects and animals, but some are made by humans. The distinct "clomp, clomp, clomp" noise was unmistakably the sound of a hiker coming down the trail. Since the light was beginning to fade, I was sure that the hiker was headed toward the shelter.
Sure enough, a hiker arrived. It was a woman and she looked vaguely familiar. She wore clothing that was soiled from many miles on the trail. When she arrived at the shelter I also noticed the smell. Now, I'm not complaining about the smell. We all sweat while hiking on the trail. And we all had a smell that was ok for the outdoors but would get us kicked out of some places in civilization! Yes, she had the look and the smell of a thru hiker.
Then I noticed two other things. First it was the hair on her stubby legs. It was obvious that this woman had not had a razor on her legs for a long, long time. The hair on her legs was only surpassed by the hair sprouting out from under her arms, revealed by her dirty tank top shirt. The second thing I noticed was a small can attached the the strap of her pack. Somehow that small can looked familiar too. Most hikers didn't carry things clipped to the shoulder straps of their packs. Why were these things familiar? Who was this woman?
And then it hit me. I knew exactly who this was! I remembered Hot Springs, North Carolina. I remembered the woman who arrived at the hostel with the can of mace hanging from the shoulder strap of her backpack. I wrote about it in the blog entitled "Who carries a can of mace on the Appalachian Trail?!!" on May 5, 2011. That was over two and a half months ago. She was ahead of me on the trail (or so I thought). How did she end up at this place and at this time?
We fell into conversation as hikers usually do at shelters. Yes, she did remember me from Hot Springs, N.C. Yes, she had been ahead of me and had been making very good time. But something happened. Her boyfriend in Arizona broke up with her and quit mailing her packages with all of her supplies. She had to get off of the trail and go home for two weeks in order to get things set up for a family member to mail her the rest of her supply packages.
"Two weeks," I thought to myself. "don't they have razors in Arizona? Why didn't she shave off all that nasty hair while she was home? It's one thing for a woman to get all hairy while hiking on the trail, but good grief!" That's not what I said, but it's what I thought. Then I realized that I was probably being too harsh. Perhaps she had to get off the trail and go home a couple of months ago. Perhaps she had been behind me and was only just now catching up to me on the trail. Her odor and dirty clothes were certainly evidence that she had been on the trail for a while. Perhaps I was being too hard on her after all....
Then I made the mistake of asking the question. I wish now that I had not asked. I wish that I didn't know the truth. I wish that I had gone on giving her the benefit of the doubt. Instead, I asked the question, "how long have you been back on the trail?"
"Oh," she replied, "I just got back on the trail today. As a matter of fact I just got a ride to the road a couple of miles south of here."
Again, my thoughts began to race, "What?!!! How can you smell so bad if you just got back on the trail? Why are your clothes filthy dirty? Why didn't you at least shave? And why on earth are you carrying a can of mace? Believe me, I have seen bears that are more attractive." Well, that's what I thought. It's not what I said. Fortunately it got dark quickly. In the morning the woman was up and off early. She hiked faster than me and that's the last time I saw her. But the smell lingered for a while......
At the end of a long day I crossed a road and walked a couple of miles to a shelter. No one else was there, so I began to settle in for the night. I cooked a huge pot of supper and had just finished eating when I heard a sound. In the woods, you get used to many different sounds. Some sounds are from the wind, some from the insects and animals, but some are made by humans. The distinct "clomp, clomp, clomp" noise was unmistakably the sound of a hiker coming down the trail. Since the light was beginning to fade, I was sure that the hiker was headed toward the shelter.
Sure enough, a hiker arrived. It was a woman and she looked vaguely familiar. She wore clothing that was soiled from many miles on the trail. When she arrived at the shelter I also noticed the smell. Now, I'm not complaining about the smell. We all sweat while hiking on the trail. And we all had a smell that was ok for the outdoors but would get us kicked out of some places in civilization! Yes, she had the look and the smell of a thru hiker.
Then I noticed two other things. First it was the hair on her stubby legs. It was obvious that this woman had not had a razor on her legs for a long, long time. The hair on her legs was only surpassed by the hair sprouting out from under her arms, revealed by her dirty tank top shirt. The second thing I noticed was a small can attached the the strap of her pack. Somehow that small can looked familiar too. Most hikers didn't carry things clipped to the shoulder straps of their packs. Why were these things familiar? Who was this woman?
And then it hit me. I knew exactly who this was! I remembered Hot Springs, North Carolina. I remembered the woman who arrived at the hostel with the can of mace hanging from the shoulder strap of her backpack. I wrote about it in the blog entitled "Who carries a can of mace on the Appalachian Trail?!!" on May 5, 2011. That was over two and a half months ago. She was ahead of me on the trail (or so I thought). How did she end up at this place and at this time?
We fell into conversation as hikers usually do at shelters. Yes, she did remember me from Hot Springs, N.C. Yes, she had been ahead of me and had been making very good time. But something happened. Her boyfriend in Arizona broke up with her and quit mailing her packages with all of her supplies. She had to get off of the trail and go home for two weeks in order to get things set up for a family member to mail her the rest of her supply packages.
"Two weeks," I thought to myself. "don't they have razors in Arizona? Why didn't she shave off all that nasty hair while she was home? It's one thing for a woman to get all hairy while hiking on the trail, but good grief!" That's not what I said, but it's what I thought. Then I realized that I was probably being too harsh. Perhaps she had to get off the trail and go home a couple of months ago. Perhaps she had been behind me and was only just now catching up to me on the trail. Her odor and dirty clothes were certainly evidence that she had been on the trail for a while. Perhaps I was being too hard on her after all....
Then I made the mistake of asking the question. I wish now that I had not asked. I wish that I didn't know the truth. I wish that I had gone on giving her the benefit of the doubt. Instead, I asked the question, "how long have you been back on the trail?"
"Oh," she replied, "I just got back on the trail today. As a matter of fact I just got a ride to the road a couple of miles south of here."
Again, my thoughts began to race, "What?!!! How can you smell so bad if you just got back on the trail? Why are your clothes filthy dirty? Why didn't you at least shave? And why on earth are you carrying a can of mace? Believe me, I have seen bears that are more attractive." Well, that's what I thought. It's not what I said. Fortunately it got dark quickly. In the morning the woman was up and off early. She hiked faster than me and that's the last time I saw her. But the smell lingered for a while......
Finished? Not Yet!
Today is September 4, 2011. Thirty-one years ago today I climbed the last mountain of the Appalachian Trail. The official mileage that year was 2,106 miles from Springer Mountain in North Georgia to Mount Katahdin in Maine. It took me 146 days to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. This year I set out on a journey to accomplish two objectives. First, I wanted to reduce my weight to 165 pounds. Second, I wanted to tell stories about the Appalachian Trail along the way.
Up until about three weeks ago I was making good progress on both objectives. I wrote stories about events from Georgia all the way to Vermont. But I have not finished....not yet! As far a weight goes, I have made significant progress. As of today I weigh 167.4 pounds. That means that I have lost a whopping 19.4 pounds! But I also have 2.4 more pounds to trim off of my body. No, I'm not finished with this objective....not yet!
What happened? Well, life happened. It's hard to do anything consistently for 146 days in a row. And, to be honest with you, I got a bit discouraged. I hit a period of time where I had a difficult time losing weight. In athletics it is called "hitting a plateau." No matter what I tried, I had difficulty getting below 170 pounds and staying there. For some reason 170 pounds has been my plateau point every time I have tried to lose weight.
June 25, 2005 I weighed 185. July 20, 2006 I weighed 170.
December 11, 2008 I weighed 180. February 25, 2009 I weighed 170.
February 15, 2010 I weighed 182. May 28, 2010 I weighed 178.
So, this time when I hit 170 pounds and stayed there I just kept trying to do the right things. I kept on running. I kept on watching what I ate (without starving myself). Finally, after a few weeks I finally started to trim my weight down again. 167.4 pounds is the least I have weighed in over eleven years! I know if I keep on trying, I will be able to get all the way down to 165 pounds. A friend of mine just had a heart attack (he is only a few years older than me). Fortunately it was relatively mild and they caught it in time to treat it. I want to do everything I can to keep from having the same problem! I turn 50 years old at the end of this month. I want to be as healthy as possible and getting rid of extra weight is one of the best ways to stay healthy!
The thirty-first anniversary of hiking the Appalachian Trail has been a tremendous motivation to finally lose weight and get healthy. Just because it is taking me a bit longer to finish my "journey" doesn't mean I am giving up. A lot of people who hiked the trail would take off a week or two in order to go home or have a side trip. They would return and finish the trail. I think I will treat the last three weeks like a side trip.
After all, some great things have already happened. My blood pressure is normal. I can wear clothes that have been sitting in the top of my closet for many years. I ran in a 5K road race on August 20, 2011 and had a time of 28:33 (which is 3:20 faster than my time on June 4th). This project is a marathon, not a sprint. I'm not finished, not yet! I will keep on trying to lose weight until I hit 165 pounds. And I still have at least three more weeks of stories to tell about the Appalachian Trail. So...if you will stay with me, we can still finish this journey together!
Up until about three weeks ago I was making good progress on both objectives. I wrote stories about events from Georgia all the way to Vermont. But I have not finished....not yet! As far a weight goes, I have made significant progress. As of today I weigh 167.4 pounds. That means that I have lost a whopping 19.4 pounds! But I also have 2.4 more pounds to trim off of my body. No, I'm not finished with this objective....not yet!
What happened? Well, life happened. It's hard to do anything consistently for 146 days in a row. And, to be honest with you, I got a bit discouraged. I hit a period of time where I had a difficult time losing weight. In athletics it is called "hitting a plateau." No matter what I tried, I had difficulty getting below 170 pounds and staying there. For some reason 170 pounds has been my plateau point every time I have tried to lose weight.
June 25, 2005 I weighed 185. July 20, 2006 I weighed 170.
December 11, 2008 I weighed 180. February 25, 2009 I weighed 170.
February 15, 2010 I weighed 182. May 28, 2010 I weighed 178.
So, this time when I hit 170 pounds and stayed there I just kept trying to do the right things. I kept on running. I kept on watching what I ate (without starving myself). Finally, after a few weeks I finally started to trim my weight down again. 167.4 pounds is the least I have weighed in over eleven years! I know if I keep on trying, I will be able to get all the way down to 165 pounds. A friend of mine just had a heart attack (he is only a few years older than me). Fortunately it was relatively mild and they caught it in time to treat it. I want to do everything I can to keep from having the same problem! I turn 50 years old at the end of this month. I want to be as healthy as possible and getting rid of extra weight is one of the best ways to stay healthy!
The thirty-first anniversary of hiking the Appalachian Trail has been a tremendous motivation to finally lose weight and get healthy. Just because it is taking me a bit longer to finish my "journey" doesn't mean I am giving up. A lot of people who hiked the trail would take off a week or two in order to go home or have a side trip. They would return and finish the trail. I think I will treat the last three weeks like a side trip.
After all, some great things have already happened. My blood pressure is normal. I can wear clothes that have been sitting in the top of my closet for many years. I ran in a 5K road race on August 20, 2011 and had a time of 28:33 (which is 3:20 faster than my time on June 4th). This project is a marathon, not a sprint. I'm not finished, not yet! I will keep on trying to lose weight until I hit 165 pounds. And I still have at least three more weeks of stories to tell about the Appalachian Trail. So...if you will stay with me, we can still finish this journey together!
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