Month: July 2018

Important Stats:

Days: 97
Miles: 1522.9
Beard Length: Leo in The Revenant
Showers Taken: 28
Beers Drank: ??
Bears Spotted: 16
Zero Days: 8

One of the great parts about entering a familiar part of the trail, is seeing some friendly face. Growing up and going to college in New England has scattered a network of companions all throughout this region that are pretty amazing, care about me for some reason, and have stellar strength of their olfactory receptors to allow my nasty hiker stench in their vehicles. I have been truly moved by how many of my incredible friends have gone above and beyond, far out of their way to see me in the past two weeks. Now it really does feel like I’m walking home.

It all started crossing into New Jersey the day before the Fourth. One of my great friends from college Sierra who is working on her PhD. at Rutgers University drove to the Delaware Water Gap to pick me up for the holiday. And I blame her and all her wicked smaht friends and their epic 4th of July party for the reason I can no longer have an accurate beer count in my “Important Statistics” section.

One of my favorite parts of the party came from a conversation about my diet with two of her friends. There’s an interesting dynamic that occurs when you’re the only dirty, smelly, hippy who’s lived in the woods for the past 3 months in a room full of Ph.D. and MD students. After explaining the importance of eating tons and tons of calories that are lightweight and packable, I mentioned that I had eaten a lot of goldfish lately.

A surprised look immediately came across their face and they said, “Goldfish? Where do you get them?” I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the question so I casually replied, “Oh, well just at the store.” Her face became more perplexed and she said, “Wow! Do how do you cook them?” It was at that moment I finally realized she thought that I was eating real goldfish. I must really look like a true savage.

Even better than the party though, was that she took me to the beach the next day. And not the dirty, crowded, fake-tan infested Jersey Shore portrayed by the media; it was a secret beach with hardly anyone their. And for about an hour I felt pure bliss, swimming through the waves on a beautiful July day. All my life I’d known that the two places I could always count on for comfort were the mountains and the ocean. Often times on the trail, especially on the hot days, I’ve dreamed of the ocean. Maybe it’s one of the “grass is always greener” type of situations.

I had a phenomenal time with Sierra, but I had this peculiar feeling in my gut by the end. In fact, it was borderline anxiety, which I attribute to being too far away from the trail for too long. How long does it take to form a routine? What constitutes making something your “normal” life? Even if there are specific timelines and data to answer these questions, what I can definitively tell you is that once immersed into the Appalachian Trail it has an irresistible hold on you. I like to believe that it’s because of the simplicity and freedom that captivates the soul. Although as a human who grew up in a developed country, I miss certain comforts, part of me wishes I could hike the trail forever.

That night, I stealth camped at Sunfish Pond with no one else even remotely close to me. As day faded into night and the sounds of the woods came to life, I was once again reminded why I love this so much.

New Jersey was a pleasant surprise for me. In my head, I pictured it to be a state to just, “get through”. Open ridge walks and rolling hills kept the terrain interesting which was a welcome change from the hell that was Pennsylvania.

What did suck about NJ, was the bugs. Mosquitos, gnats, and black flies unleashed a constant and unbearable assault. Thankfully, I had an unlikely trail angel in one of the times I needed it most. Back at the start of the trail I had posted the link to my blog in the NH48 FaceBook group. One of the people who reached out to me was a woman named Arielle who told me to let her know if I needed anything while coming through New Jersey. Well, I was in New Jersey and I really needed bug spray. I knew it was a shot in the dark but I reached out to her anyway. A few hours later, I was meeting Arielle on the top of the auto road of Sunrise Mountain. This woman whom I had never met came out at 8:30 PM on a Friday night to bring me a bag full of snacks, Gatorade, and bug spray. People truly are amazing.

New York was similar to New Jersey in the sense that it was full of mind-numbingly rolling hills that are not tall, but relentless on weary legs. It is also another state where beautiful vistas began to reemerge after a section of the trail that left me craving mountaintop views.

I got to spend one day with my MCAT study buddy Teresa Samson who’s boyfriend Mike was the one who stealthily left my the PBR’s on McAfee Knob back in Virginia. Crazy how time flies by. In the midst of a New York heat wave we got to have Chinese food, ice cream, and Mexican all in a span of a few hours.

And the day after one of my friends, Nancy from the Antarctica Marathon in 2016 came to hike for the day. It was these little breaks and touches back to my “real world” that have broken the pattern of loneliness and monotony that inevitably strikes from time to time. One of the other struggles of New York was how dry it was. Given all the heat and lack of rain, many of the normal streams and water sources had dissipated into thin air. Myself and every other thru hiker have been beyond grateful for all the trail angels in the New York section of the trail that had left dozens of water jugs at all of the road crossings. It was really life saving.

Connecticut was another state I wasn’t particularly excited about. There was actually only one thing that I was really looking forward to about hiking through and that was meeting up with Jo Marczyk. Some of my favorite races and hiking moments have come with her, so it was a pleasure to share a weekend on the AT with her and Prancer.

What would have otherwise been a rather forgettable section of trail became one of my favorite weekends of the whole trail. We found a perfect campsite by the Housatonic River and enjoyed a few beers that we packed out and caught up on life. Prancer was the real legend of the trail for the weekend. His endless amount of energy contributed to him easily hiking 10 more miles than we did. There was no doubt that he earned his burger at the end of the hike. I’m truly lucky to have some pretty amazing people in my life that take time out of their busy schedules to come out and spend some time on the trail with me.

Why bother leaving the house? That is the title of one of the TED talks by polar explorer, and my hero, Ben Saunders. In an age where technology is seemingly limitless and adventure beyond prior imagination can be ‘experienced’ through virtual reality, what is the point of exerting the effort to do such things in the real world. To paraphrase Mr. Saunders, although you ascertain a few particular details of what something might be like from reading or looking at pictures or high definition videos for virtual reality, you’ll never actually know what it was like.

For example, I had a magical night about a week ago, stealth camping atop Black Mountain in New York. Before pitching my tent, I stood on a ledge overlooking the Hudson River while the blue sky swirled into a mixed palette of pink and orange. As the summer heat faltered with the light of day, owls began to hoot, and a doe and fawn walked gingerly in the brush behind me. All around the site I had chosen to camp were blueberry bushes. I spent an hour carefully plucking the wild berries one by one, saving them for a delicious after dinner treat. When the last bit of light was finally vanquished from the sky, looking far to the East I could see the unmistakable glow of New York City. Three months ago, on a clear spring day from the top of Blood Mountain, I looked out to see the outline of Atlanta. And now, on this warm summer night, I thought to myself, “I walked here.” Feeling quite content, I removed the fly from my tent and laid down with an unimpeded view of a tremendous starlit sky. Within five minutes, the most majestic shooting star I had ever seen streaked across the sky so quick that I could have convinced myself it was my imagination. But it wasn’t, so I made a wish for a friend who needed it. While I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep, I counted the airplanes that danced around the stars and felt comfort in the gentle warm summer breeze sweeping over my face.

I can paint this picture for you, but you will never know what it actually felt like to be there. And that is why I would encourage you to have an adventure of any shape or size, so you can have a magical moment that truly belongs to you, and only you. So please do bother to leave the house.

Being in New England now has made me realize that this journey in fact does have a finite ending. This emphasizes a belief I came to early on of walking in the moment. Instead of focusing on or worrying about the future, take the present moment and appreciate that you have it. Recently, I was reminded of how precious and fragile life is. And although these reminders are sometimes sad, they continually enforce the importance of being thankful for each and everyday.

As always, thank you for following along with my journey. All of your support means so much to me. Thank you to Jim Gagne for his continued support and packages. And also huge props to John McNeil who sent me one of the greatest packages of all time! Love you buddy.

Peace,

Handy Man

Great Barrington, MA

July 16, 2018

Important Stats:

Days: 83
Miles: 1271.3
Beard Length: Leif Erikson
Showers Taken: 23
Beers Drank: 80
Bears Spotted: 16
Zero Days: 7

Right after my last post, I checked into the Appalachian Trail Conservancy Head Quarters in Harpers Ferry, WV. This famous building for thru-hikers is the psychological halfway point of the journey. There, you check in, have your photo taken and are given the number thru-hiker you are that has gone through this year. The photo with your information is stored in one of the many books that will line the shelves filled with similar photos of thru-hikers from the past. In Georgia, I started off as #2135, and when I checked into Harpers Ferry as #861. For the past two months I have either passed a bunch of people and additionally, many people have dropped of the trail.

Through the end of Virginia, across West Virginia, Maryland, and into Pennsylvania I had the best time with my parents. Getting them out to hike a few miles on the trail was fantastic, and I think they really enjoyed it too. Before they left Mike and Sharon Eller came up too and they all did Trail Magic together. It was amazing to see all of them together in one spot, like two separate lives merging together.

Although it was hard to say bye to my parents, it was also strange to think that the next time I’d be seeing them, they wouldn’t have to get on a plane. That means I really have walked a long way.

Red Stripe’s mom and sister also came to visit her the same day that my parents were leaving. They were gracious enough to host me for a night at a beautiful B&B they rented in downtown Harper’s Ferry and treat me to some meals, just as my parents had done for Red Stripe. This truly was like an on trail vacation, and a much needed one at that.

Additionally, I got to celebrate Hike Naked Day on June 21st, summer solstice and the longest day of the year. All hikers are invited to strip down for the annual holiday and celebration, but it seems to be much more commonplace amongst thru-hikers. Unfortunately, I did not see any thru-hikers that day and would like to publicly apologize to all the fully clothed day hikers that were lucky (unlucky) enough to witness my spectacular tan lines that day. Even though I consider this a family friendly blog, please see a photo my friend took of me below.

Finally, retreating back to the woods, the glamour was over. Except it wasn’t. Twenty miles into the hike as it was getting close to dinner, the smell of bacon wafted through the woods. One could say that it was calling to me. With a new spring in my step I quickened my pace and emerged at the next road crossing to find four guys from Ohio with chairs, a tent, a lot of food, and a grill. Rookie, Norm, Andy, and Mert were down for a few days at the start of Pennsylvania doing some of the best trail magic! Rookie served me up a massive double bacon cheeseburger to go along with the soda, homemade whoopie pies, and chocolate chip cookies they had already given me. After sharing over an hour of great conversation, I walked on with a full belly and content mind.

Pennsylvania is notorious for it’s rocks and the consistent agony they provide to hikers. The state is infamously known as “Rocksylvania” on the trail. But for me, PA had a more important claim to fame: The Half Gallon Challenge. For thousands of years thru-hikers have made the stop at the Pine Grove Furnace General Store to attempt the feat. With the store always being within a few miles of the geological halfway point of the AT, they decided to challenge hikers to eat a half gallon of ice cream. I feel that this is something I have been training my whole life for. Arguably, it is a task requiring more mental toughness and physiological adaptivity than hiking the trail itself. Back in Virginia I was discussing the challenge with a former thru-hiker who strategically suggested choosing Neopolitan as your flavor. Thus containing variety and providing a smooth experience in comparison to other flavors that contain chunks. The challenge is two parts where you get one 1.5 quart container and when that is finished, an additional pint is ordered. So after slugging through my 1.5 quart container of Neopolitan I proudly marched back in to finish off an additional pint of cookie dough for a total time of 33 minutes. I signed their hiker book and received my mini “Half Gallon Club” wooden spoon, but my accomplishment was overshadowed greatly by this years record time of 12 minutes and 45 seconds.

Honestly, the start of Pennsylvania had been the easiest section of trail. Mind numbingly flat, it actually hurt my feet more to not have the variety of rolling hills and mountains. Crossing through farmland and thick corn field truly contributed to a sense of traditional America unlike any other piece of the trail to date. And it really was beautiful.

While still awaiting the challenge of rocks, Pennsylvania decided to throw another challenge instead: a flash flood. My tent had been pitched for about an hour and I lay inside reading my book when the rain first started. There’s something so peaceful about rain drops on your tent fly that instills almost a zen-like feeling. Then it began to rain harder, and harder, and harder to the point where it was now not so zen-like. Impossibly loud thunder harmonized with the pounding rain and lightning was so constant that it was almost like a strobe light. Wind howled over my little tent and the force of the rain began to drive the water inward, dampening the inside. Never before have I felt the wrath of such a rain storm.

The next morning, the birds chirped and the sun shone through my dampened rain fly like nothing had happened. But little did I know, the Appalachian Trail had now become the Appalachian River. For the majority of the 23 mile hike that day the trail was covered in knee to ankle deep water. Unfortunately the golden rule of keeping your feet dry was now just a laughable concept.

At it’s worst, one part of the trail that lay next to a large river now had water on it that rose almost to my chest. As myself and other hikers stared out at the newly formed body of water wondering what to do, we were surprised to see someone wading through heading towards us. This would be the first South-bound thru-hiker I met that had started in Maine this year. But instead of an exciting conversation, his only words were, “watch out for the snakes.” So I stripped down, put my pack over my head, and did the only thing I’ve done for the past two and a half months; walk forward.

If the flash flood and abhorrent trail conditions were not enough to make me hate Pennsylvania and it’s stupid rocks, the heat wave sealed the deal. From Friday up until even now it has been no cooler than 96 degrees during the day with humidity greater than 90%. The heat index for Sunday and Monday was 102 degrees as I walked over feet crippling rock fields with the sun pounding down on me, draining me. The climb up and out of Lehigh Gap in the middle of the scorcher was probably one of the most challenging pieces of trail thus far. Scrambling up the exposed boulder field carrying extra water weight because of the horrifically timed dry stretch was not exactly fun. There are no bad days on the Appalachian Trail, just good days and hard days. These are the hard days. And although I try to take something away from each piece of the trail, I really can’t wait for Pennsylvania to be over. F@&! you Pennsylvania and your Philly Eagles too.

Inevitably, the question of, “why?”, has followed me incessantly the past few years when setting off on different adventures around the past few years. The Appalachian Trail is no exception and I get asked it more times than I can count by friends, family, and hikers on the trail for the day. Now that I am on the trail in Rachel’s home state of Pennsylvania, I feel more of a duty to share that story as my source of inspiration, but I still struggle telling it to strangers and I’m unsure why. In part I think it’s due to not wanting to bring negativity into their day; and also because it still hurts a little bit. And although Rachel plays a large part in my hike of the AT, she’s certainly not the sole reason. Because as I stated in a previous post, the only humans I would ever walk more than 500 miles for are my mom, nana, and Tom Brady.

So why? It’s the question I’m frequently frustrated and bewildered by because I can never answer it. Or let me rephrase, I can never answer it in a way that might seem to make any sort of rational sense. Why run the seven continents? Why Ironman? Why the Appalachian Trail? All justifiable inquiries that leave me either providing a textbook, prepackaged, and practiced answer. Or conversely I stumble upon the truth in my own words for a minute or two before giving up and reverting to the former.

My hero is a polar explorer named Ben Saunders. He has given three of the most important and influential TED talks on my life that I listen to regularly. They are downloaded onto my phone and I have replayed them over and over again on the hike thus far. In one of his talks, he answers the question “why?” with a quote from world renowned mountaineer George Mallory. Mallory was last seen disappearing into the mist just below the summit of Mount Everest some decades before Sir Edmund Hilary, and was possibly the first person to summit Everest. He is also credited with coining the phrase, “Because it’s there.” But in the quote that Ben shares, Mallory answers the question of “why?” in a much more polished and eloquent way which resonates perfectly with me. By no means am I comparing myself to great explorers such as them, but in this instance I am happy to steal the words of Mallory.

People ask me, ‘What is the use of climbing Mount Everest?’ and my answer must at once be, ‘It is of no use.’There is not the slightest prospect of any gain whatsoever. Oh, we may learn a little about the behaviour of the human body at high altitudes, and possibly medical men may turn our observation to some account for the purposes of aviation. But otherwise nothing will come of it. We shall not bring back a single bit of gold or silver, not a gem, nor any coal or iron… If you cannot understand that there is something in man which responds to the challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won’t see why we go. What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy. And joy is, after all, the end of life. We do not live to eat and make money. We eat and make money to be able to live. That is what life means and what life is for.

Each and everyday out here I am experiencing life as I want to. And to me, that is an invaluable treasure.

I wanted to extend a huge thank you to my parents for visiting and being a source of entertainment and most importantly being so supportive and loving. I had such a wonderful time with them. Thank you to LouAnn and Lydia McLaughlin for their hospitality when visiting Red Stripe. Thank you to Marie Callahan for a great care package. Another important thank you is to Dave Dickinson for the great beer and for his major assistance in other on trail matters. And as always to Jim Gagne for yet another care package and for being a constant source of inspiration to me.

Happy to only have 24 miles left of Pennsylvania, I’ll be in New England soon enough!

Peace,

Handy Man

Wind Gap, PA

July 2, 2018