Good Intentions

I want to write a post about a small market I happened to come across during my 2011 thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail (AT). Back then, the store was called 'Joe To Go' and it was on the south side of where the AT crosses (the very busy) State Road 206 in New Jersey. It was kind of a cool little shop. There was an old guy behind the counter serving greasy breakfast sandwiches and burgers. Back then, they weren't exactly known as 'hiker friendly'. Back then, a breakfast sandwich was $4. Back then, I stopped in, felt the unwelcoming vibe and immediately went back to the trail.

Recently, the store was bought by an older guy who re-named it Sunrise Appalachian Trail Deli. 

His intention, it seemed, was to cater specifically to AT hikers. That to me, is a great idea and it fills me with gratitude. He wants to help hikers! He started carrying some hiker supplies (Ramen noodles, Cliff bars, canister fuel,  etc... ) and he put out a notebook for hikers to leave recommendations on what products they thought that he should carry to better serve the hiking community. More great ideas!

The comments left on Guthook's app and in the shelter journals along the trail were all very positive. Everyone said how 'hiker friendly' this place had become and how hard the store was trying to attract and accommodate hikers. I can't wait! I thought to myself, to spend some (of my very little) money here and to show them how much I appreciate that they appreciate hikers. 

But the attitude with which I was welcomed left much to be desired. The guy who actually ran the place, day to day, you see, was not the guy who bought the place. The guy who ran the place had a different perspective entirely. He was the one who came in early every morning. He was the one who made the sandwiches and the burgers. His pay, I learned later, was based on how well the store did in overall sales. 

He wanted to sell cigarettes, lottery tickets and energy drinks. He wanted to have a big cooler full of ice for the tourists. But the new owner would have none of it. "Those things are poison!" the new owner exclaimed, "And those aren't the kinds of things that hikers need."

Back to the guy who had to work there everyday. He was not so hot on hikers. He didn't like it that they sometimes brought their packs (all smelly and dirty) into the store despite the obvious signage telling hikers to park their packs on the bench outside. He didn't like it that they complained that he didn't have wifi or group seating. And he really didn't like it when one of them stole the money out of his tip jar. 

The guy mentioned that the owner wanted to start accepting re-supply boxes for hikers. I had to warn him that hikers get really uptight about their re-supply. If a box isn't there when it's supposed to be, they freak out. Worse, they won't move on until they get that box and will literally camp near that business until that box comes in. They will check dutifully twice a day, every day because they literaly can't keep hiking until they get the food, fuel, maps, etc... that come in those boxes. 

My point is that thru-hikers are a tough bunch to handle. They are often strapped for cash and looking to get the very most for their few dollars. I hate saying it because it's trite but true about any small group: A few bad apples. Most of us want to support a business that welcomes hikers. We want to leave a good impression. 

My hope is that hikers, as a group, will get their shit together and respectfully patronize businesses that welcome us and that more business owners will recognize that hikers want to spend their money at stores like the Sunrise Appalachian Trail Deli. 

Speed on the AT

If you call the Appalachian Trail Conservacy and ask them what the northbound speed record is for the trail, they will tell you that they do not keep such records. That 'racing' from one end of the nearly 2,200 mile to the other isn't in the 'spirit of the trail'. Indeed, when Benton MacKaye designed the trail in 1921, he never intended it to be hiked all at once (thru-hiked). But ever since Earl Shaffer became the first to do so in 1948, people have compared how long it took them to hike it. Naturally competitive Americans started doing it faster and faster and now use websites like Fastest Known Time to keep those records. 

I was thrilled to meet Scott Jurek near the Maine/New Hampshire border as he set the record for the fastest supported northbound thru-hike at 46 days.  Currently, the woman I consider to be the greatest long distance hiker in the world, Heather 'Anish' Anderson is out here trying to set the southbound unsupported speed record. 

Even I might attempt the Four State Challenge. This is an informal challenge  to hike across four states (44 trail miles) in 24 hours. While not nearly the feat that Jurek and Anderson are up to, it's still an example of a competition or a race on the trail. For me, a southbounder, I would start in Pennsylvania, just above the border with Maryland (which also happens to be the Mason-Dixon Line). I would hike across Maryland, through West Virginia and into Virginia within 24 hours. Why would I do this? I'm a competitive American, of course!

Is all this competition good for the trail? Not everyone thinks so. The management at Baxter State Park, home of Katahdin - the northern terminus of the trail, don't want to see their park commercialized or otherwise exploited. They made that clear when the issued three big fines to Scott Jurek for stretching the rules when he reached  the summit of Katahdin. There's talk that they don't even want the AT running through Baxter State Park at all. Someday, the trail may have to be rerouted. 

I'm curious what people think about speed records on the Appalachian Trail and about me taking a shot at the Four State Challenge. I'm hoping to attempt it at the end of September. If anyone wants to join me - to hike all or part of the 44 miles with me - or just to cheer me on and maybe slack pack me - just leave a comment below. 

Just Plants

I'm not a botanist. I don't know much about plants. Still, I see a stunning variety of them out here and I think they're beautiful. 

These were in front a house in Yarmouth, ME. Azaleas, right?

No idea what these are. 

Some kind of mushroom. 

Also a mushroom. Looks like a flower buy it's not. I think. 

Mushroom as big as my hand on the side of a tree. 

No idea. 

Still no idea. 

Lots of these. 

This isn't a plant. It's a slug. 

Pitcher Plant? I think? Found them in a swamp. 

Same thing. Pitcher Plant?

I'm sure that was boring. 

If you leave a comment, you're a total nerd. 

Pics from the AT 2015

Me in peaceful, idyllic Yarmouth, ME three days before I started the hike. 

The Royal River in Yarmouth. So charming. A nice, easy walk to stretch out my legs after two days on the Greyhound. 

This is the school where my buddy Hee Haw teaches music (guitar and mandolin). That's him jumping in on the upright bass during an impromptu jam session on the porch. 

Well? Do ya?!

This is Hee Haw (on guitar) with his band, the Jerks of Grass. I got to watch them whip the crowd into a frenzy in a really cool bar in Portland, ME. 

And drink really good beer. 

Finally! The day is here. Hee Haw and I stayed a night with his dad and drove to climb Katahdin early in the morning. 

That day was so great. Hee Haw has been up there so many times before that I literally got a guided tour of Katahdin. We did a 16 mile loop and had perfect weather for every step. 

Hee Haw and I at the summit. Last time I stood here was July 20th, 2011. 

Katahdin from a distance. They don't call it Mt. Katahdin because 'Katahdin' means 'greatest mountain'. It would be redundant. 

The next morning, Hee Haw sent me on my way. In the rain. In the cold, pouring rain. Felt like I was home again. 

So I hiked south through the 100 Miles Wilderness. Took me nine days. 

Had to ford a ton of rivers. See that tiny white blaze on the tree across the river?

See?

I finally made it to Monson, ME and was rewarded with a plate of fries from the owner of the Lakeshore House. She remembered me from 2011. 

From there, Hee Haw's dad, Donald, and his delightful girlfriend, Debbie, picked me up and took me home with them. They fed me, let me wash up and get a good night's sleep before taking me back to the trail the next day. I really enjoyed my stay with them. 

This seems a good place to stop. Still working on posting from my phone so we'll see if this works. If you like the pics, leave me a comment below and I'll post more. 

Work For Stay

The barter economy can be a beautiful thing. It's a market that removes the root of all evil from the transaction. Its prevalence in the long distance hiking community sits well with me.

'Work for stay' is a fine example of how hikers embrace the barter economy but to give you a good example, I have to first describe the 'hut' system used in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. The Whites are beautiful. Some of the best hiking in the country. Every summer, thousands of people want to hike these trails but they are very remote and thus, hard to get to. These trails also cross rare alpine and Forest Protection Areas so you don't want thousands of people stomping around and camping everywhere. The solution is a system of primitive buildings up in the mountains where people can stay overnight. These are the 'huts'. Kind of a cross between a hotel and a bunkhouse, they only offer the basics: a dinner served 'family style', a bunk bed for the night and breakfast the next morning. These huts are run by the Appalachian Mountain Club and staffed by college kids for the summer. The huts are not cheap: It can cost up to $150 per night for a peak-season, non-AMC member guest. There are no showers, no electricity and you have to pack out your own trash. They sell out every night during the summer. Why does someone pay $150/night for a basic meal and a bunk? Location. These huts make all the best trails and mountain peaks accessible.

Unfortunately for the poor AT thru-hiker, you cannot camp above treeline forcing you to either get back down off the mountains (and off the trail) or stay at the huts. But what hiker can afford $150/night? Luckily, the AMC and the young adults that staff the huts sometimes offer WFS (Work For Stay).  Here's how it works (or, at least, this is how I do it):

I try to get to the hut at around 4pm. Any earlier and they'll probably tell you to keep hiking. Any later and you risk not getting a spot. They can only offer WFS to a few hikers each night. I park my backpack outside (as is customary before entering any place of business) and ask for the 'Hut Master'. This is the person in charge.

Me: I am Wolverine. I'm a SOBO thru. I understand that you sometimes offer WFS to grateful and hard working hikers.

Hut Master: We do.

Me: My body is sound and I have a strong work ethic. Would allow me to WFS?

Hut Master: We'll see. Bring your pack in and have a seat. I'll let you know.

If you get the opportunity, here's the deal: You may have to help prepare and serve dinner or you may have to clean up afterward, do dishes, sweep... Basically, what ever they tell you to do. In exchange, you get to eat any leftovers from the paying guests and you get to sleep on the dining room floor after the guests go to bed. In the morning, you can stay for breakfast and usually can get a similar deal - you get a shot at the leftover food in exchange for cleaning up afterward. Then you pack up your gear and keep hiking, grateful for a belly full of food and a night indoors.

I think the paying guests (whom hikers sometimes call 'Hut People') are fascinated by us. They marvel in disgust as the thru-hikers shovel down the leftover food, slurping and sopping... Occasionally growling if they get too close to one another's plates. They wonder why we're so glad to sleep on the floor like a dog. We, on the other side,  wonder why their packs are so huge and why they would hike in a cotton hoodie. The two groups, castes if you will, look at each other curiously, each wondering about the other's life.

I had a particularly positive experience at Lakes in the Clouds Hut near Mt. Washington. It's notable for it's size (they handle about 90 guests a night with a crew of about 7) and its location at the foot of Mt. Washington. The views from the hut itself are spectacular. I was fortunate to trade work for both dinner and breakfast. I had established a good rapport with the crew there (the Lakez Croo, they call themselves) and was glad for the experience. Before I left, the Hut Master asked me if I would do him a favor and deliver a message to the next Hut Master. I was headed there anyway and was glad to be able to help. He handed me a note written on cardboard that was taped tightly closed. The outside said 'Open Immediately'. When I finally got to the next hut, I presented the note to one of the crew there, a young lady who was busy baking fresh breads and desserts for that evening. This was the note:

I was so surprised! This was one of coolest things that has ever happened to me.The young lady invited me around to the kitchen and offered me a huge plate of pure goodness: She had been making a tray of brownies that morning and had poured too much mix into the pan. While baking, the brownie overflowed from the tray and she had cut off all the edges from around the tray and she served them to me with a hot cup of coffee and instructions to eat all of it. What a treat!

The long distance hiking community embraces the barter economy in many other ways. We share and trade food on the trail. A lady might give you a ride to the trail head if you offer to pump her gas for her. There are 'Hiker Boxes' at almost every hostel and hiker hang-out along the trail. These are similar, in theory, to the 'take a penny, leave a penny' trays you might see at a convenience store check out. You might take out a roll of TP and leave some AAA batteries. Or you might leave a package of Ramen noodles and take a pair of boot laces.

Goods and services exchanging hands without money. I wish it happened more often.

Stop Walking!

"Put your hands where I can see them!" Except for the rotating red and blue lights, I was blinded by his flashlight. He ordered me to put my hands behind my back and interlace my fingers. He bent me over the hood of his vehicle and kicked my feet apart while he searched me for weapons.  All I could think was "What could I have done? I was just walking home from work!" Walking, it turns out, was the crime.

I live in Detroit. Home of the American automobile. It is, of course, a car culture but it's evolved into something more than that. It has become 'anti-pedestrian'. People here drive everywhere and I mean EVERYWHERE. That means they don't walk anywhere. Ever. Walking is frowned upon. Why would you walk even a short distance when you can move about safely in a shiny, climate controlled, metal box? Forget the fact that it's natural and healthy to walk and that we are all bipedal apes - our bodies were meant to move forward on two feet. Not here. In Southeastern Michigan, we were apparently designed to sit behind the wheel of a car.

For me, the idea that walking here is frowned upon is reinforced every day. As I leave my subdivision, on foot, I come to Telegraph Road. It's a divided highway with 3 lanes each running North and South. Should I want to cross this road legally, I have to walk 1.5 miles south to get to a traffic light that offers a cross walk all the way across. I could go north about one mile to a cross walk but that means traversing the on and off ramps of both Ecorse Road and Interstate 94. No sidewalks. No lights. Not exactly 'pedestrian friendly'.

I work about 2.2 miles from my home. As a long distance hiker capable of covering 30 miles in a day, why wouldn't I walk there? I LOVE to walk. I love to be out-of-doors. I love the sunshine and the rain. I love the snow and the wind. Why not walk? Because I almost get hit by a car. Every day. It matters not that I'm in a cross walk and that they have a stop sign or a red light. Sometimes, it's that the driver is a jerk and just doesn't care (or know) that I have the right of way but mostly, they just aren't looking for pedestrians. Mostly, I see drivers with a stunned look on their face like "Look at that strange human. He is somehow moving forward without his car. Where is his car?" The rest just give me the finger. Or honk at me. Or both.

Just the other day, the genius who forced me to jump out of the way of his turning van argued that he'd rather run me over than get rear-ended by slowing down enough to allow me to safely cross a side street. Yes, I had the lawful right of way, but I have a feeling that, here in Downriver Detroit, a judge would probably ask "What the hell were you doing? Moving about on two feet... "

So, back to the police officer with his hand on his gun. "Mind if I have a look in your backpack?" he asked. "Yes, I do mind," I replied. "What law have I broken?" I asked. "You walked across train tracks. That is trespassing. If you want, I'll just arrest you and you'll get more than searched." was his reply. He was right. I did cross the railroad tracks. I let him dump the contents of my backpack and my pockets across the hood of his vehicle. I stayed, bent over, hands on the hood, while he climbed back into his car with my license and talked on his cell phone. Twenty minutes passed. Traffic was stopped. I was freezing and embarrassed but afraid to move off the hood of his car. He typed into his computer and scribbled notes. I wasn't sure if I was going to be arrested or get a ticket with a fine that I could not afford.

He let me off with a warning and sent me on my way. I guess I was grateful, in a strange way, because he actually could have arrested me. Those train tracks are private property. I was trespassing when I crossed them. The only place to legally cross was about a half mile away, where cars fly across with no problem. You can drive across but, God forbid, you walk across. I humped it the extra half mile with cars whizzing by just a few inches away from me (this was safer than crossing the tracks?)

His warning worked: I won't cross those tracks again anytime soon. He said that I was "in the computer" and that if I was caught walking there again, I would be arrested. I'm not writing this to claim that I was right and he was wrong. Actually, considering the hundreds of miles of track that I have hiked, it's about time that I was busted. I've climbed over and around trains. I've passed many signs that said 'Property of the Railroad - No Trespassing' and kept on going. It's just that, well... I was only walking. Walking in a city where it is not okay to walk.

My Dream Job!

I've spent the past few days putting together an application to Backpacker Magazine to become an Ambassador for their Get Out More Tour.  The job includes traveling around the country, speaking at retail locations and outdoor festivals.  Can you imagine?  Getting paid to travel and talk about hiking?

To get the job, I first need to convince them that I'm an experienced hiker.  I could tell them that I'm a Triple Crowner (AT 2011, PCT 2012, CDT 2014) but I'm prouder, still, to have been the first to hike the 924-mile Ironwood Trail as well as being the first to hike the Great Lake to Lake Trail. During those hikes, I interacted with more than just other long distance hikers; I had the chance to influence people I met along the way and encourage them to get out and hike. That led to me being nominated for a Governor's Fitness Award and the opportunity to spread my message about the health benefits of hiking to a wider audience.

I think my experience with public speaking will really help me as a Tour Host. I've been honored to have been asked to speak at the Caroline Kennedy Library a couple of times as well to smaller groups like the Scouts and some hiking clubs.  Coming up, I'll be at the Berkley Library on January 20th and I'll be heading to Spokane, WA later that same month to speak to the Burning Boots Trail Club.

As part of my application for the job, I even filmed a video and posted it to YouTube.

If you think this job is right up my alley, please leave a comment below.