Bittersweet Washout at Mount Washington

Mount Washington from Intervale, NH (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I stood at the base of Mount Washington, one of the majestic objectives along the Appalachian Trail.  I was wrung out.  Exhausted.  I could hike no further.  Regardless where my heart was, climbing the summit and backpacking south would not happen for me.  At least not this season.  My ascent would come three years later.  My heart was pressed by a bleak heaviness.  I felt my stomach had been scooped out.  There was a hollowness there, like the gaping maw of an infinite cavern.  My emotional feet were pulled from under me, my physical endurance spent.  A tempestuous sorrow nearly buried me, like the cresting wave at the seashore knocks over a little child.  Vertigo.  Even my 32 pound pack seemed like the 55 pound burden it had been when I departed Springer Mountain in Georgia.  There was no compromise; no getting past it.  “Not to be,” the summit seemed to say.  “Not this day.”  For all that, the depressing finger punched the chest of my psyche.  It pointed and accused.  “Failure!”  I fended off the lie.  It was the end for now, a bittersweet washout.  I retreated in wisdom, with grace.  The mountain, sheathed in lowering clouds, was inaccessible.  But there would be another day.

Mount Washington: Highest Recorded Wind Speed Sign (Photo credit: jimflix!)

Warrior Hike — The Appalachian Trail — A Healing Journey for Veterans

I believe in the power of the Appalachian Trail to facilitate  healing at some level in most everyone who has hiked it.  Please check out warriorhike.com to learn about this vital non-profit whose work is supporting wounded veterans who are in transition from military service.  Some of those veterans are set to leave Springer Mountain for Katahdin.  According to their website:

June 3, 1948: Earl Shaffer (Photo credit: national museum of american history)

“In 1948 Earl Shaffer told a friend he was going to “walk off the war” to work out the sights, sounds, and losses of World War II. Four months later, Earl Shaffer became the first person to hike the entire length of the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine.

Recognizing the physical, psychological, and spiritual benefits of hiking the Appalachian Trail, Warrior Hike has partnered with the Appalachian Trail Conservancy to create the Walk Off The War Program. The Walk Off The War Program is designed to support wounded veterans transitioning from military service by hiking the Appalachian Trail.”

www.warriorhike.com

As a United States Navy veteran, I salute their cause and their efforts.

Related articles

• Warrior Hike helping wounded veterans using Appalachian Trail (examiner.com)
• “Walk Off The War” Program (waronterrornews.typepad.com)

Haunting birds of the Appalachian Trail…the Barred Owl

Mysterious.  Remarkable.  Unforgettable!  Among the avian residents you’ll encounter as you hike or backpack the Appalachian Trail, the barred owl is king, both in appearance and in the memorable call it makes.

Thinking about…the keen edge: knife choices for the Appalachian Trail

It would be pointless to try and review the stunning array of knife choices you face when selecting a blade for your backpacking trek on the Appalachian Trail.  Rather than wade these waters, I will share my own experience and choices.  I hope they usefully inform your own.

Photograph of a closed Number 8 Opinel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Like some backpackers, I probably own too many knives.  Fixed-blade, folding, small blade, blades as part of a multi-tool.  They’re good choices and I might use a different one for each trip, depending on circumstances and needs I foresee.

Let’s use the “If you were stranded on an island, and had to choose…” question.

Opinel (oh-peen-el) makes a wonderfully light, study folding knife that holds its edge a long time and has most often been in my pack.

• It’s easy to sharpen and keeps that edge for the duration of my trip.
• It is light.
• I prefer the comfort of a wooden handle.
• The blade locks easily with a “ring” device.
• Useful for delicate cutting, such as mincing onions and garlic.
• Reliable for tougher work, cutting cordage and wood.

Also, I include a small Swiss Army Knife, which has a small blade, a nail file, a scissor (really handy!), toothpick, tweezer.  This fits in my first-aid kit and makes an excellent backup blade.

Think “light” when choosing your knife.  Forget commando knives, Bowie knives, machetes (yes, I have seen them on the Appalachian Trail!)  Make your choice based on practicality and not for fear of wildlife or unstable persons you might meet.

What haunts me about the Appalachian Trail

If a ghost is a memory that will not fade, then the Appalachian Trail is my own personal phantom.  It haunts me in all the good ways a significant life experience can.  If it’s a good thing to be visited by a spirit of achievement, then the AT is certainly among the finest one could ever envision.

I am haunted by the approach trail at Amicalola Falls, Georgia, which felt like a rite-of-passage backpacking to the start of something superb, difficult, daunting, and mysterious.

I am haunted by Springer Mountain Shelter, where I first dropped my backpack on the first evening of many I would spend hiking the trail.  I remember the rugged reliability of a wooden refuge created by so many hands, by so many trail and maintenance clubs, who literally poured out their love in sweat and effort so that I might have a place to rest my head.

The twisted oak at Bly Gap (Photo credit: marklarson)

I am haunted by…

the tree at Bly Gap, where one crosses the border from Georgia into North Carolina.  I can still see that ancient oak through a veil of mists on a chilly and damp April day.

by the descent off so many summits, and by the sound of road traffic – far off yet seeming so near – that signaled my nearing a road crossing where I could hitch into town to rest and resupply.  In some ways those asphalt markers were as significant as the blazes on the trail itself.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park (Photo credit: numbphoto)

by the Great Smoky Mountains.  I am remember how easy the ascent to the main ridge line felt, and how grand it was to walk that long, high line of footway as the earth fell away to the east and west of me.  If heaven has a hiking trail, it’s like the Appalachian Trail though the Smokies.

by the Nolichucky River in Tennessee, where I first rafted whitewater above class 6.  The river was above flood stage due to rain, yet the guide took us anyway.  I remember the awesome adrenaline flow and sense of achievement when I finally stepped from the raft to shore.

by the blissful stop at a grassy bald in the North Carolina highlands, where a couple with a picnic shared their white wine and strawberries, Virginia ham and baguette sandwiches.  I remember their gentle honesty and genteel Southern voices.  I remember how in love they were.  I am haunted by their commitment.

by the practical kindness of strangers offering rides to town, by the “trail angels” who left food in shelters, soft drinks in cold streams, and who handed out warm cookies.

I am haunted by…

rainy, cold, muddy, sweaty, humid days where the footway was slippery and rocks were punishing to my boots.

by the harsh downhills which tortured my knees and made me curse under my breath.

by black flies which delivered a hellish bite, mosquitoes which nearly drove me mad, and yellow jackets which sprang from the trail and whose sting felt like having a hot nail driven into my arm.

by sudden slips and fall.  There was no way to arrest those tumbles, and at times I felt I had broken a bone or sustained severe injury.

by exhaustion and summer heat so intense hiking was all but impossible from late morning until late afternoon.  I remember how trying to put one boot in front of the other felt like wading through thick sap.

by the disappointment of a “reliable” spring which had gone dry due to drought, and how it became necessary to strain muddy water through a bandana just to get a drinkable amount.

“Spirits” – one and all, both good and bad – are welcome in my reflections, even to this day.  For it was both the easy and the blessed, the hard and anguishing, which made the Appalachian Trail worth the while.

Thinking about personal safety on the Appalachian Trail (“Night Hatchet” Pt. II)

More fall leaves… (Photo credit: life is good (pete))

We all survived the night and “Night Hatchet” was gone by daybreak, but it changed my view of people who came to the Appalachian Trail and their purpose.  There are —

Serious hikers and backpackers who intend to hike the trail.

Day-trippers and weekenders out for shorter hikes.

Multi-week/month hikers.

Locals or tourists taking a stroll in the woods.

Partiers who raid camps/shelters.

People like “Night Hatchet” whose agenda you cannot fathom and need to be wary of.

I did not see “Night Hatchet” again, but I did meet people and situations that “put my antenna” up.  It’s important to keep in mind that most all the people you meet along the Appalachian Trail are solid, decent, friendly folks, many of who are extremely generous and will help you if you need it.

It is also vital to realize that while you’re not in some dangerous part of a city, mischief and crime do occasionally come even to the Appalachian Trail.  Caution and discretion are merited.

Some situations which “gave me pause” include:

The aforementioned “Night Hatchet.”  The key is to be polite but don’t let your guard down.

A few nights at shelters where locals came to party with lots of marijuana and booze.  I moved on to another campsite.  The key is to try and avoid campsites and shelters near roads on nice weekends.

People in vehicles who oversold how eager they were to give me a ride to town.  My “gut” said to say “thanks but no thanks.”

When backpacking your senses will be keen and heightened.  Extend their increased potency when dealing with everyone you meet.  Help others and they’ll most always return the favor.  Above all, don’t let yourself get so spooked you become paranoid.  Use caution in all your dealings, and call authorities if you need to.  Keep your hiking itinerary private, especially if you meet a stranger all too interested in where you’re going.  Don’t hike alone in situations involving people who make you feel uneasy.  Build trusting relationships with fellow backpackers you know to be on the trail for the right reasons.

Thinking about “Night Hatchet” on the Appalachian Trail

Consider this the “Halloween” post for Write In Front of Me.  It’s not my intent to fuel undue anxiety or alarm but I would be less than upfront if this side of backpacking the Appalachian Trail wasn’t addressed.  Specifically, I’m talking about safety in dealing with other hikers and people you will meet.

First a tale…a true tale.

Cold Spring Shelter along the Appalachian Trail was home for the night for myself and a handful of other backpackers.  We’d left Springer Mountain mid-April and were among the rear guard bound for Katahdin.  Most of us were getting our “trail legs” and starting to feel we were managing the tests the trail set before us pretty well.

What we weren’t prepared for was “Night Hatchet.”

“Night Hatchet” was a young local man, about his early twenties, who was hitching from trailhead to trailhead, hiking in to shelters, staking a claim and mooching off backpackers.  He carried little provisions and gear, and would ask for food and bum cigarettes.  He was a “little off” to most of us, but we tolerated his presence, though it was clear he wasn’t a serious outdoorsman.

“Night Hatchet” had some…habits.  One was discovered when another backpacker fetched water from the spring only to find “NH” had washed his dinner dishes in it.  The water was fouled with pasta and goop and it took considerable effort to clear it to get decent water.

“NH” was drinking, too.  Though his rucksack held few genuinely useful items he did have substantial alcohol, which fueled his mood which soured as the night settled upon us.

Then “Night Hatchet” tinkered with the fire.  Oh, yes, the fire…

Most shelters have a modest fire pit, used for cooking, warmth, and camaraderie.  “NH” thought it was his personal volcano, and by the time we had all retired into the shelter for the night, “Night Hatchet” had built it up so much that heat was blasting off the shelter walls.  Those of us lying in the shelter – which was all of us but him – could see his shadows on the ceiling as he capered and danced about the blaze and we tried to sleep.

Oh, I almost forgot.  Why he was known as “Night Hatchet.”  It seems he came prepared to hack on anything wood, for he retrieved a sizable hatchet from his pack and started to hew logs for his fire.

Imagine how we all felt, lying there and looking up at the ceiling of the shelter, our last waking images being those of “Night Hatchets” shadow as he raised and dropped his hatchet and muttered to himself?

Now the tale is done…next I’ll elaborate on the main topic.

What about snakes? (Part II) Fauna of the Appalachian Trail

When I  began backpacking from Springer Mountain in Georgia on the Appalachian Trail I had lost any fear I had about snakes, rattlesnakes in particular.  I’ve always found knowledge to be an potent antidote to specific fears.  Since my first run-in with snakes in the Uwharrie National Forest until I began my backpacking trip, I became well-read about  venomous snakes.  Laurence Klauber (1883-1968) is known for the landmark book  “Rattlesnakes: Their Habits, Life Histories and Influence on Mankind.”  I consulted it other written work.  As I read I came to understand these reptiles.  The more I learned the more the myths faded.  By the time I saw my next rattler in Pennsylvania, I felt curiosity and appreciation and not dread.

On top of Blue Mountain (Photo credit: cthoyes)

Along A.T. in the Blue Mountains of Pennsylvania I stopped 0n a sweltering August afternoon for a water break.  Dropping my pack I fished out my water bottle and took a long drink.  I sat on a log for a rest.  The trail ahead followed an abandoned woods road and I consulted my map to survey the course ahead.  Gazing from the map I checked the trail ahead, then observed a disk-shaped black patch on the footway.  Thinking it to be some sort of wheel – perhaps from a child’s wagon – I went over to investigate it.  It only took a moment to see it was a black-phase timber rattlesnake spiraled on the side of the trail.  The snake lay still.  It did not rattle.  But its eyes were full life as it lay patiently, waiting for an opportunistic meal to venture by.  I did not disturb the snake, but I did spend practically an hour standing there, observing the snake.  Fascination had replaced my fear.

Spring

Some weeks later, while following a blue-blazed side trail on the New York section of the A.T. to get water, I stumbled across two rattlesnakes sunning on a ledge below me on the trail which led to the spring.  I admit being surprised.  They were not readily visible until I was almost upon them.  I bushwhacked around them.  On the way back I saw they had slithered into the bush.

Hikers and backpackers along the Appalachian Trail who meet up with snakes are fortunate.  Rattlesnakes and copperheads are endangered and vanishing from much of the A.T..  These creatures require distance and respect.  Basic rules for avoiding encounters with them would include:

Never go barefoot when walking in the wild.  Always wear hiking boots, especially in known snake country.  Avoid thick  underbrush where snakes may lie concealed.  Don’t step or put your hands where you can’t see.  Step on logs and rocks and not over them; a snake may be lying on the other side.  Also check the other side of rocks or logs before you sit down on them.  Never handle a dead snake; it can still bite.  Don’t antagonize or rile a snake for fun; you might regret it.

Snakes are animals you’re likely to see along the Appalachian Trail.  Most will be nonvenomous.  But if you’re in luck  you might see rattlesnakes and copperheads.  Treat them with caution, giving them some distance, snap a photo (only if you can do this from a safe distance), enjoy the moment – then hike on.

From my journal…hiking and backpacking the Appalachian Trail

On Springer Mountain (Photo credit: marklarson)

Day One:  Hiking begins!  It’s a long haul up Springer Mountain.  Starting at the approach trail at Amicalola Falls State Park.  I found the first mile of the trail an ordeal.  One hiker is carrying 65 pounds – I’ve got 55.  I pass Frosty Mountain, the Nimblewill Gap at midday.  I begin my ascent of Springer Mountain at 5 p.m. at a slow, stop-start-stop pace.  I stumble into Springer Mountain shelter at sunset.  Dinner is a goulash of cooked rice with sausage and pea soup.  I read my first shelter register and it’s fascinating, filled with tips and tales and gripes and glories shared by other hikers.  As I shuffle into my sleeping bag

Barred Owl (Photo credit: Bob from Caledon)

the sound of barred owls is heard echoing in the forest – a wonderful, eerie chorus which puts me to sleep.

Looking back on this entry today, I’m first impressed about how sketchy it was before I transcribed it.  This was the result of sheer exhaustion and the pressing wish to simply crash for the night.  Still, even without photographs, I can clearly remember the experience: the drenching sweat of the ascent and the agonizingly slow pace; the expectation of doing more than my body was ready for; the surprising lack of appetite for food; the continual thirst for water; the incessant aching of my feet; the elation in my spirit and sense of adventure!  

Thinking about wind, snow, sleet, rain, and cold on the Appalachian Trail (in early spring)

View from Springer Mountain (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s late February or early March.  You’ve been packing and planning your Appalachian Trail thru-hike for months.  Everything is ready and you’re itching to tackle the footpath.  Looking at the weather forecast, you see fair conditions and mild temperatures have enveloped the South.  Now, you think, it’s time to go.  But, before you shoulder your pack and head for Springer Mountain, consider these facts.

While the low elevations of Georgia and North Carolina bask in sunshine, the Appalachian summits are still subject to radical changes in weather and temperature.  Blasts of rain, fierce winds, paralyzing sleet and cold, and significant snow are as common as would be found in the loftier New England mountains, and it’s wise to prepare for severe weather, or delay your departure at least until mid-April.  Even then nights can be cold in the mountains and low temperatures, rain, and wind combine to create ideal hypothermia conditions.

When I set out mid-April I carried wool gloves, a wool sweater and knit cap, and a rain and windproof jacket.  I needed them all.  You will also want reliable, warm clothing for a safe journey on the trail.