Fresh out of sympathy...but still inspired

So this week on Springer was a story of contrasts, from both weather and LNT perspectives. It started out with rain and heavy fog for two days, progressing to cold with wind advisories, leading to snow and ice, and finishing off with sun and 80 degrees. I began the week in full rain gear, hat and gloves, and ended with bug bites and a gaiter-tan. Which reminds me of the sage fashion wisdom of my ridgerunning colleague, Razr: "gaiters are not a front-country fashion statement."
Here is a fabulous back-country foul-weather look, from a gentleman hiking a few miles with his son at the start of his thru-hike. Motel rain-gear, courtesy of the ice bucket and trash can.

I was particularly fond of this look, after our experience in Maine during Hurricane Irene, when our fellow hikers sported these fetching ensembles...

Unfortunately, the weekend weather was pretty rough on some of the inexperienced hikers starting out, and a number abandoned the effort on the Approach Trail, prior to even reaching the southern terminus.   I met a girl named Lindsey hiking down to the Black Gap shelter, and I could tell that she was not doing well, trying not to cry. She told me she'd already been crying all morning and was thinking about quitting. She was new to backpacking and had a really tough night, with the wind and cold. I spoke with her for a while, trying to reassure her, telling her how the AT was Eric's first backpacking trip, how we only made 5 miles on the first day, how you CANNOT quit on a beautiful day. And it WAS beautiful--still cold and windy, but at the summit, the other side of the mountain was frosted with ice. White and snowy, sparkling in the sun, and so, so beautiful.

There is a popular saying on the trail--never quit on a bad day. It's easy to want to go home, to a warm, dry place, where you don't have to squat in the freezing rain to pee, to try to fire up your stove in a blowing wind. But if you can walk away in the sunshine? On a mountaintop, with the breeze in your sweaty hair after conquering a challenging climb? Then it truly is time to leave. I don't know what happened to Lindsey, if she called a ride from the parking lot at the summit and forfeited her dream, or if she somehow found that little extra bit of energy and spirit to go one more step and then, one more day. I just really hope she did.

When I did arrive at Black Gap shelter on the Approach Trail, I found plenty of detritus from the departing hikers. There were four guys on their first overnight trip eating in the shelter, with food all over the place. Now, you experienced hikers understand that eating in the shelter only adds to the mouse population therein. So I very gently recommended that they not do so and sweep out the shelter. They grabbed the broom, moved their stuff, and started picking up trash for me, all around the campsite. There was an abandoned tent (more on that later), that they dismantled and helped me pack. It was hilarious--it was a crappy, tiny, yet ridiculously heavy little tent, made by "Lake & Trail." One of the guys pointed out that it was a perfect choice for backpacking--so versatile! Appropriate for camping on trail OR lake, if the need arose! And yet, about 7 pounds of sheer hell in your pack on an 8 mile uphill climb.

Speaking of things you don't want to carry uphill for 8 miles: the 8x9 foot car camping tent/monstrosity also ditched at Black Gap. Really? At what point did that seem like an even remotely good plan?

I heard reports of at least 2 piles of discarded stuff, including a sleeping bag, on the Approach Trail. Turned out to belong to a woman who left the trail after that first bad night, strewing evidence of inappropriate gear choices in her wake. Yet her complete ignorance of "pack it in, pack it out" was mitigated by a group of guys also starting out on their thru-hikes. Even though one of them was carrying a 60-lb pack himself (get thee to Mountain Crossings and get some gear advice!), they picked up all her droppings, divided them up, and carried them up to Springer, where I took them.

Full Of It (new trail name) enjoying some kale
chips after hauling someone's discarded
gear up the Approach Trail.

Hardass with his 60-lb pack.

Gear selection gone wrong: a razor is bad enough,
but eyeshadow? Seriously?

Pancho likes to joke that I bring home a new tent every week. Of course, I should qualify that by saying that none of them are worth a damn. This was truly a banner haul, though. Two tents, a sleeping bag, and three tarps. Then, as I was unloading it all in my driveway, preparing to create a little montage of what not to pack, I realized that one of the tarps was not only enormous (10x15! for real!), it was wrapped around--you got it!--another tent. Now, when I'm talking tents here, I'm talking completely-useless-for-backpacking, ridiculously heavy, Walmart pieces of crap. I also call them Jewish tents, and do NOT go all #CancelNachita on me for some sort of inappropriate commentary. It's just that these little tents have no actual rainfly, just a tiny scrap of fabric that clips on the top, bizarrely resembling a yarmulke. Not only are these tents unbelievably difficult to set up, they would be completely worthless in truly bad weather. It took me and Pancho a crazy long time to set up the giant car camping tent, and we are both pretty darned experienced and more intelligent than most. Honestly, trying to set that thing up in perfect weather in the comfort of my driveway made me want to ditch it on the side of the trail, too, much less factoring in wind and rain. 

Giant car camping tent in front. The roll next to the sleeping
bag contained tent #3. 

Ginormous tarp on the left, with the brand new green tent it
contained above. The little blue bit on top of the tent in the back
is the yarmulke-fly.

After I spread all this stuff out and weighed some of it, I had a tiny meltdown. Though I suspect the giant tent belonged to weekend warriors, people actually tried to thru-hike with this other stuff. Seriously. There is an unbelievable amount of information available--much of it free on the interwebs--about this trail, about what to pack, about the weather and conditions, about the terrain. To come out here with stuff this heavy, this difficult to use, this completely insufficient for the conditions, is mind-boggling. I have basically run out of sympathy for the people who quit on the first day and leave their absolutely stupid choices for me and other hikers to clean up, simply because they were unwilling to do some research. I'm also still amazed by how many people I meet who are using their gear for the first time. Trying and failing to get their tents up or tied down sufficiently in the high winds that are the norm on top of Springer. Unable to get the brand new stove lit because they didn't bother to try it at home. Carrying the guidebook, but not having read any of it. Or carrying parts of the guidebook, but not the GEORGIA part. Guess where we are? Hello?

Happily, there were some gorgeous days, some awesome people, and some amazing acts of kindness and responsibility this week. Otherwise, I might have been overwhelmed by the dumbassery.

Back on my beat

Two weeks ago, I hit the trail again as the Caretaker at Springer Mountain. The flood of thru-hikers has begun, spurred on by the beautiful weather that has finally arrived. It's a stark contrast to last year, when the first half of March was bitterly cold and snowy.

My home away from home...

The view inside...

and out.

Once again, I'm amazed by how unprepared people can be when there is such a wealth of information available--and free information, at that. On the first day of the season, I ran into my first "no way in hell does he make it to Maine." A young kid huffing and puffing up the Approach Trail, wearing jeans and flannel, carrying an enormous pack with random items tied all over the outside. It is a particular peeve of mine to have stuff dangling off a pack. I usually only have my camp shoes strapped outside, unless, of course, I'm burdened by an especially large load of trash. But generally speaking, if you can't fit it all into your pack, you've got too much. So back to the kid--when I asked him how far he was heading, he said something that I eventually interpreted as "Katahdin." Dressed all in cotton (it kills! ditch it now!) and not actually knowing your destination--maybe additional research was in order.

Best of all, I ran into this kid again the next day, and he asked the question I get almost daily: how do I get your job? Well, for starters, I told him to get some new pants. We actually had a nice conversation about his career goals and how he can explore some options on the trail. Hopefully, he made it to Mountain Crossings at Neel Gap, for a pack shakedown and some wicking materials.

On the non-newbie front, I spent a lovely morning hiking with Pa Burt, whose wife and grandson dropped him off to begin his third thru-hike. He has his entire high-school class following his adventure and cheering him on.

Pa Burt

Unfortunately, the first week also brought some of the usual dumb-assery. In one of the shelters I found a big pile of index cards with this helpful note:

Let's go through this again, people--everyone is carrying too much at the start. You may think you're being all thoughtful and helpful, leaving your unwanted, excess crap, but NO ONE ELSE wants to pick up more stuff to carry. This isn't a swap meet out here--no one is going to say, "Hey, index cards! Now THAT'S what I should have brought instead of this electric razor!" (And yes, I met a kid last year packing a razor) Sadly, I'm pretty sure I know who left the cards. One of the shuttle drivers dropped a guy off who said his nickname--and subsequently, trail name--was "3x5," due to his constant use of index cards to keep himself organized. I met this guy, too, and he didn't seem like a thoughtless jerk, but I guess you can't always tell from first impressions. And another thing 3x5 needs to learn quickly--this is NOT trail magic! This is laziness and lack of preparation. Hopefully, he'll figure out the difference.

An Unprecedented Day in the Blogosphere

At the risk of freaking everyone out, I am taking the radical step of posting two days IN A ROW. Settle down, get another cup of coffee, and prepare to be dazzled. Well, maybe lower your expectations for "dazzling" first....

This is part two of the New England road trip/hiking extravaganza from August. As I was planning my trip to NH, I learned that our dear friend and hiking buddy, Deja, would actually be in the neighborhood around the same time. This was pretty extraordinary news, since I haven't seen her since we summited Katahdin together in 2011 and she's been teaching in Japan for the last couple of years. But in an incredibly happy coincidence, Deja planned to thru-hike the Long Trail in Vermont during her term break, beginning the day after the MLS program wrapped up in NH. After a bit of logistical wrangling, we arranged to meet in Montpelier, VT, and I would hike with her for the first 35 miles.

It's much easier to stock up for just two days on the trail.

This was super exciting--not only a chance to get back on the trail with Deja, but a return to VT, a state that I love, love, love. I mean what's NOT to love? Artisan cheese. Craft breweries. Insanely, ridiculously cute little towns. Oh--and Ben and Jerry's. Love. Vermont. For those of you who haven't been, Montpelier is the state capital. It is also about 5 square blocks big, with a lovely river running through and a statehouse that looks like a tiny model. The whole place is smaller than the Atlanta city government facility. I did, however, become mired in what passes for a traffic jam in downtown Montpelier, as I drove in circles, trying to find the surprisingly elusive Greyhound station to meet Deja. Unlike Atlanta, though, there was never that concern that another driver would embrace the road rage and shoot you in the face. In Vermont, they're more likely to roll down the window and pass you a joint or some sort of vegan bakery product. So small and friendly. Did I mention my love of Vermont?

One of the many reasons to love Vermont....

After I finally found Deja and her friend Jan--a fellow thru-hiker who lives nearby--we headed to various stores to buy supplies, then headed north to the trailhead. Here begins the educational portion of the post....
The Long Trail is the oldest long distance hiking path in the United States and an inspiration for the development of the AT. It was laid out by the Green Mountain Club between 1910 and 1930, running 273 miles from the Canadian border, the length of Vermont to the Massachusetts state line. The southernmost 100 miles of the Long Trail are contiguous with the AT, so I've already done that part. Another important point is that the two trails are identically blazed, with the white rectangle so closely associated with the AT.

We hit the trail at the Canadian border, pretty deep in the middle of nowhere. We kept joking about how hilarious it would be to emerge from the woods and find a border control dude sitting there in a lawn chair checking papers. Happily, we were all alone. Since I had only a couple of days, we left my car in a parking area about 35 miles south. After a late afternoon start, we reached our first shelter. Like the AT, the LT has small lean-tos at regular intervals. The ones that I saw tended to be a bit smaller than those on the AT, with very few decent tent-sites--not surprising, I suppose, given the more remote nature of the LT at the northern end.

Ready to go.

The trailhead at Journey's End, VT.

The monument at the Canadian border. The
line marking the border is visible in the background.

Very swanky signage.

Very threatening signage.

Hitting the slopes. At Jay Peak.

Rainy day lunch break.

Unfortunately, I had to abandon Deja for the two day drive back to Georgia. She carried on alone and completed the trail faster than anticipated--yay, Deja! It was awesome to be back out on the trail, though sad to be without Pancho. Maybe another adventure soon....

Parking lot re-supply, before my departure.

The end of my hike....

One last shot.

Back in the saddle

After a lengthy absence from the blogging scene, Nachita returns. Hopefully, this is exciting news to at least a few of you, aside from my mother, who is biologically required to be enthused about my blog.

Since my seasonal job as a ridgerunner with the ATC ended in May, I've been seeking another organization willing to pay me to hike and/or deal with historic stuff. Sadly, I remain in the ranks of the not-so-employed. This has, however, allowed for some time on the trail, so not a total loss.

In August, I spent some quality trail time in New England, covering all the colors of the mountain rainbow--in the Whites and the Greens. I was delighted to be an instructor this season at Mountain Leadership School (MLS) for the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC), in Crawford Notch, NH. Last year, I participated in the inaugural dayhike leadership program, and was invited to return this year as an instructor. For five days, we were based at the Highland Center, working with a group of five students. Most of the participants in this program are members of local AMC chapters and are required to undergo leadership training in order to lead hiking trips. We had a great group and I was SO fortunate to be paired with a super experienced and absolutely hilarious senior instructor, Rich.

Our MLS group at the Crawford Notch Depot. My co-instructor, Rich,
is in the red shorts. He is almost certainly singing some classic rock
stadium anthem.

Three first-timers on Mt. Lincoln. For Jose, in the middle,
this was her first 4K.

One of the best parts of the program was the day we summited Mt. Lincoln, then headed down the Crawford Path, which is contiguous with the AT. I ran into 6 or 7 thru-hikers, some of whom I remembered from the start back in April. It was really tremendous to see those hikers, still putting one foot in front of the other, and only one state away from their goal. They are hopefully all done now, safe, showered, and home with family. Congrats to all y'all!

Nachita returns to the AT.

I love hanging out with the other instructors at MLS, all of whom are WAY more experienced than I, and all of whom also teach at winter mountaineering school in the Adirondacks. They spent a lot of time trying to convince, cajole, and browbeat me into coming to winter school. For those of you who have know me a while, you most certainly realize that that ain't. never. gonna. happen. Talking about building a cooking platform in the 10 foot deep snow and cutting through the ice to get water are not strong selling points for me. I am perfectly happy to limit my bad-assery to warm climates.

I also had a very happy surprise at the Highland Center--running into my friend Tammy, who was in my MLS group last year. She was up for a weekend of hiking with her daughter Emma. Any of you who are Walking Dead fans will be familiar with Little Ass-Kicker. Well, that should be Emma's name, cause she is one badass 11 year old. She was planning to hike 3 4000 footers that weekend--her 16th of the 48 in NH. She's already done several in winter, making her way tougher than me. Sadly, she didn't bag those peaks, because during a dicey stream crossing one of her boots got sucked off and washed away. Did that slow young Emma down? Hell, no. She hiked the rest of the way in her socks. And to add to her coolness, she's already planning an AT thru-hike. Coolest. Kid. Ever. And way to go Tammy, for being such a terrific role model!

With Tammy (center) and my fellow instructor Katherine (right)
at the Highland Center. Unfortunately, I failed to snap a photo
with Tammy and Emma, but just shrink Tammy a little
in your mind--Emma is her mini-me.

The ubiquitous White Mountains Death Sign....

That brings up another thing. The 4000 footer thing in NH. Obviously, the winter is way too long up there, cause everyone is sitting around trying to figure out the most bizarre circumstances for bagging all 48 peaks. In winter. In summer. In every month. At night. Wearing an evening dress. Good grief. Of course, there is a really great event happening this weekend--Flags on the 48. Hikers from all over gather to place American flags on each of the 48 peaks, in remembrance of 9/11. I have a number of friends who will be taking part and I wish them all a great day on the mountain. For more information, please check out www.flagsonthe48.org.

More Scenes from the Trail

This is another post without an overarching or high-minded theme. This seems to be the new norm....
Once again, some images of life on the AT.

Had to snap her, since I am also a hiker-skirt-girl.
She made her own fabulous camo skirt, which
kinda makes me want to take up sewing, even
though I know that couldn't possibly end well.

Look closely at the hiker in front. No, you're not imagining
things. Yes, that is a toilet seat among the many things
dangling from the outside of their packs. Yes, they are
supposedly going to Maine. Or maybe not so much. When
I saw this, my words all failed me.
Trail names: Ti-D-Bol and Scrubbing Bubbles.

Woo hoo! These are SOBOs Biggie Smalls (left)
and U-Haul, waiting for their families to arrive and
hike the final mile with them. They began in August
at Katahdin--with lots of days off during the winter,
they completed the trail in 8 1/2 months.

This is the official hand-off of the Warrior Chicken.
For the final 1100 miles, Biggie Smalls carried the rubber
chicken dedicated to the Wounded Warriors. The chicken
is on at least its 3rd thru-hike--once it reaches the end,
it is passed to a hiker traveling the other direction. Biggie
entrusted me with finding a new carrier...

and then along came James. See the chicken's
head poking out at the top of his pack. Biggie
instructed me to find someone "who looks
like they're gonna make it." Even if James
doesn't carry the chicken the whole way,
he'll hopefully find another bearer.

Tortoise (maybe) and Hare.

Cheryl and Shenna. These ladies are hiking to
raise money and awareness to stop bullying
of LGBTQ kids and teens. Please check out their
website at www.learningtoliveoutloud.com and
support this worthy cause!

Prayer flags atop Springer.

Apparently, this hiker was using the same gear
as when they got the 1978 copy of the scout
handbook. Though I haven't actually read it,
I'm pretty sure there would be something about
NOT ditching your 15 pound cotton sleeping
bag on the side of the trail. 

Sadness

A little belatedly, some thoughts from Monday afternoon. A more upbeat post will follow soon....

It's an eerie experience here, listening to the coverage of the Marathon bombing on NPR. One of the best/worst parts of being on the trail is the isolation, the sensation of being apart from the rest of the world. In my current position, I get a taste of both the trail in all of its unplugged glory as well as the "real" technologically-saturated world. But I do have to keep my phone charged for work, so I often listen to NPR in the car while juicing up.
And today it is particularly jarring. As a former Boston resident--technically, the People's Republic of Cambridge--I know all of the places mentioned in the news briefs and have lots of friends living there. But without a data connection, there is no way to know if they're all safe.
It's a very slow afternoon here at Springer. The heavy fog that shrouded the summit this morning has cleared, leaving behind a beautiful, sunny afternoon. So, here I sit in the woods with only the sound of the breeze in the trees, not even a hiker in sight, listening to the explosions and screams so far away. How can it feel so distant and so immediate at the same time? Hoping for the health and safety of our friends and everyone else in the Boston community.

A Cast of Real Characters

Several people have asked me exactly how many thru-hikers I've met thus far. That would be 716. As of Monday evening, I believe 901 had signed the register at Amicalola Falls. That is not a terribly good--and certainly not a scientific--indicator of how many hikers have begun the journey to Maine this year. Many start at the top, bypassing Amicalola and the Approach Trail altogether. Others hike the Approach, but leave before the office opens or for other reasons simply don't sign the register. And of course, this is only an accounting of the northbound hikers.

Here are some of those 716:

Three wacky hikers in their even wackier tights. The buddy
who dropped them off showed his solidarity by running to the
summit of Springer in a matching pair--no shorts on top.

Sunshine (left), Thumper, his mom Leftovers, and
Cannibal Curious (right in hat). Sunshine and I had a lengthy
discussion of trail fashions--specifically hiking skirts and gaiters.
I think Cannibal was relieved he could just tune that out....

Spencer (left) and John from Durham, NC. A very stoic
kid, despite the big smile. He asked about getting in
and out of town (hitching) "in a timely fashion." I
cracked up and suggested he should re-evaluate his
ideas about "timely fashion," much to his dad's
amusement, as well.

Alf (seated) and Sable (reclining) preparing to
enjoy a hotdog. Alf is a repeat offender (hope I'm
getting her trail name right), who's planning to
take her time on this hike, after traveling with
an overly motivated partner on her last thru-hike.

Old guard meets new.... Maymay in the middle of two old school
repeat offenders, Geek (left) and Boudin (right). Geek is somewhat
notorious as the first to thru-hike with a cat. He paddled the Mississippi
then hiked the AT with his kitten, Ziggy. Ziggy would sit on top
of his pack as he hiked and eventually got up to 14 pounds. Carrying
that extra weight is definitely a drawback, though having a
mouse-hunter in the shelter makes up for it!

Bill on his way up the Approach Trail to celebrate
the 40th anniversary of his thru-hike in 1973. He's
wearing the shirt he had on at the start and carrying
the same pack. Sadly, the friend who hiked with him
passed away 2 years ago, so he was celebrating alone.

I ran into One O on the trail just north of the
Springer parking lot. He saw my Ridgerunner
hat and asked how far to the lot. When I told him
half a mile, he couldn't believe it and said he was
going to cry. Getting a little suspicious, I asked
where he was coming from.... He's a SOBO. One and
a half miles from the end of his journey from Maine.
I let out a huge whoop! I've walked that last little
bit myself and know the joy and sadness and relief
he's feeling. He told me it was the hardest thing
he's ever done.

Meet Neva, now going by Chipmunk on the trail.
She is a 14-year old badass, hiking the trail solo.
Her folks are shadowing her in an RV, meeting
her at road crossings and providing some extra
support. They all did a 3800 mile bike trip around
the US last year, so she already has plenty of
trail cred.

Chipmunk had to show off her styling nails, with
little AT symbols. Awesome! This might be the coolest
girl ever.

Roadside, starting the hike with a mighty fine
beverage and a mighty impressive beard.

Kimberly and her son (!) Josh. I know--she doesn't
look old enough! They're hiking to NC. Josh is my
first trail name--his beautiful hiking staff has a dolphin
carved on the top. He refused to go by dolphin, though
people were already calling him that. So, I suggested
Flipper and it stuck.

Zita, a gorgeous Ridgeback, and her dad.
Apparently not too big to be a lapdog....

Sam, Deputy Ridgerunner. 

Members of the GATC maintenance crew hard at work...

and taking a well-deserved break. The crew was switching the
bins in the privy at Stover Creek shelter, a tough and stinky
job. Unfortunately, too many people are lazy and throw their
trash into the privy. Someone--like these folks--has to remove
that trash. We are SO lucky here in Georgia to have an
amazingly dedicated group of trail maintainers who keep
the trail and shelters in terrific condition. I had a great time
working and hanging out with these guys!