Part-1

I often read that people "romanticize" the trail or thru-hiking, etc. Is that true? Have I done it myself?

Based on the quote above from hikerboy, I want to share some things about my yearnings to take a long walk.

And ya know what...? I'm going to do something I usually don't do online - be 100% honest. Not that I BS my way around, but I often just omit parts of the truth when it comes to my plans for a hike. I just don't feel like reading all the criticism or even negative crap that is usually sure to follow at some other websites. But WTH, I don't fear that or feel that in the Cafe. So here ya go...

I love hiking, I love camping, and I love doing/learning all sorts of bushcrafting stuff in the woods. I'm really in to the idea of self-reliance and taking a multi-use/minimalist approach to everything in life, but especially outdoors. But I don't like the idea of doing any of it for any extended period. I wish like hell I had the spirit of Jeremiah Johnson, Henry David Thoreau, or even that kid that ran off to Alaska and lived in the wild (until he stopped living in the wild, I don't wish for that part.) But, damn, I like air conditioning, I like the internet, and I hate sleeping on the ground. Worst of all, I really hate the woods at night! <* cringes and prepares for the verbal lashings...>

I was raised in the downtown area of Cleveland. I didn't get my first taste of true nature until I was in my 20's. I sort of got hooked on it, but by then some habits just weren't going away. And being able to "see" everything going on around me was one of them.

I'm not afraid of the dark itself. It's more a comfort issue for me. I remember back when I was an undergrad and I took a year of ASL (sign language) and the professor used to talk about how hard it was for the hearing impaired to deal with simple things, like walking down the street because you couldn't hear if a car was coming or if someone was walking up behind you. And, while I could empathize with those plights, I couldn't help but selfishly think to myself, "That sucks, but I'd rather lose my hearing than my eyesight, any day of the week." Perhaps it has to do with the way I grew up and my lifestyle - being a skinny white kid raised in the downtown projects of Cleveland sort made me a very paranoid minority (but that's a whole different discussion.)

Anyway, hiking the AT has been a dream of mine since I first read about it as teenager. I don't remember what I read, but after the first time it was mentioned in the story-line of some book or something, it seemed to pop up a few more times in print or on television, etc. But I do remember when I finally decided I wanted to know more about it, and I made my way to the library and was directed to some shelf where I found this big ol' book (remember those huge book sets Time-Life used to put out on various topics?) and started getting addicted right then and there. The appeal for me at that time was more about solitude, safety, and the fact that kids on my school bus wouldn't step foot near such a place, if they could even find it. So, I spent some years reading and imagining and dreaming. And somewhere in life, as things became safer and more stable, the obsession quietly faded away.

Jump ahead about 20 years to 2004. I was sort of immobilized and confined for a bit during a medical procedure and recovery period. I asked friends and family for magazines and books based on outdoors or adventure topics so that I could at least get my mind free for awhile. And in a copy of Backpacker magazine I read an article about great weekend trips or something like that (an article I have searched for ever since to no avail) in which I read about some interesting places to visit. But one location in particular stood out to me because of its proximate location to something special.

In that article, one of the locations mentioned was the areas of Hazel Creek and Proctor - areas abandoned so that the gub'ment could build a big ol' dam in there (thus flooding out nearby towns.) There were maps of the area, and pictures of Fontana Dam, as well as pictures of the ghost town remains of Proctor. The article mentioned that the best way to get to Proctor was via canoe or boat across the lake. (I've since found other ways.) And, because of my limited mobility at the time all I could think about night and day was hiking and exploring through this area. So, I swore someday I would go visit this location in the middle of nowhere. (I've tried every thing possible short of contacting the magazine to find a copy, or even mention of that damn article, anywhere online or off and I've recently begun to wonder if I didn't just imagine the whole damn thing - excepting the fact that Proctor really does exist, or did at one time.)

Now, fast forward to the year 2007. I just randomly stumble across a video on Amazon or NetFlix or whatever, about hiking the Appalachian Trail. It was anything great, a documentary called, "2,000 Miles to Maine." But it opened the floodgates, and renewed the obsession stronger than anything else in history. I've spent the last 8-years hoping, planning, and dreaming. Reading all the books, watching all the videos, reading all the journals, etc., etc. - and yes, terrifically lost in the romance of hiking, adventure, and trail culture.

A few months ago, my business venture started doing that southbound trend on me again that it seems to do over the Spring and Summer months. I began talking with the wife about me finding a job somewhere instead of dealing with another year of ups and downs. It would require a pretty big mental adjustment to go work for someone else right now (or worse, some corporation - yikes!)

That's about the time she told me that if I was going to be making some major life-changing decisions, maybe I should consider finally hitting the trail while all the stars were perfectly aligned for just such an adventure. (Neither of us knew that damn movie was coming out when we discussed this.)

It sounded perfect! I spent a week or so finding every passing moment interrupted by imaginative thoughts of the great hike and the adventures and the freedom and relaxation and... Yeah, I was as romance-stricken as someone could get. But the romance started to ebb after that first week when we found ourselves out for one of our little stealth camping trips that we venture out on occasionally. While using a cat-hole and swatting industrial-sized mosquitoes, I found myself realizing that I just volunteered for six months of this kind of fun.

Upon returning home the next day, my thru-hiking ambitions were fading fast. I began reading some more journals and watching more trail videos on YouTube with a wary eye - taking more notice of the lesser joys of the long-term experience. Somehow I had, to date, deluded myself in to not even noticing some of the more unappealing aspects of this journey. I pretty much only seen the Hollywood aspects of a true long-distance hike. (To me, "long-distance hike" used to mean when we went out and knocked down around 20 miles in day, but that view of mine has changed drastically over the last few months.)

So, after 40 some years, hear I sit. Soft, lazy, and complacent. I'm not lazy in the typical sense, we get outside at every opportunity. But I feel lazy compared to how I felt 20 years ago, and even more so when the dread creeps in as I think about hiking everyday for months on end. And I feel soft. When I'm carving a camp mallet with a hatchet or using a bow drill to start a fire I feel pretty cocky - but then when I read Thoreau or (especially) watch videos about Richard Proenneke or Heimo Korth I just end up feeling like a paper bag full of shaving cream.

I've had a long and very interesting life up until now. But at some point, thoughts of adventure seemed to be replaced by analysis of possible consequences. (Is that called "getting old"? If so, some of you are far younger than me!) I don't really want to volunteer for hardship. I don't really want to challenge myself anymore. And I find myself deeply ashamed of those facts.

Which is why I have to get out of my comfort zone and go take a very long walk. Actually, there's more reasons than those, but the above reasons have become very powerful motivators to get my ass in gear.

As hard as a long-distance hike might be physically (and even more so mentally) it still has some appeal. I'm far over romanticizing the trail or a LD hike. As matter of fact, every time some doubt creeps in to my head now, I have to stop and remind myself that every minor indication of not wanting to do it is a major indication of why I NEED to do it.

Part-2

So, I'm tackling some things now. Such as this thing with the woods at night. I'm not afraid of the bogey man, especially since I hear he checks under his bed looking for me before he goes to sleep! Honestly, out in the woods there is rarely anything there during the night that isn't there during the day. Rather, it's the sound of activity which I cannot see that is maddening. I'm a situational awareness junkie. I don't do movie theaters. I sit facing the entrance when we go out to eat. I spend as much time looking in my mirrors when driving as most people spend on their cell phone. That's my problem with the woods at night. (Actually, I can see pretty damn good at night if I "want to", but CR123 batteries are kind of pricey, so I don't "want to" very often.)

In my bid to deal with the "woods at night" issue, I've been doing some night hiking the past few weeks. I have my headlamp or flashlight handy, by I've been trying to do it mostly in darkness through areas that I know fairly well. I go out a little ways, stop and sit for awhile, close my eyes, and just listen to all the sounds around me. I try to imagine birds or squirrels skittering across trees and branches. I hear a opossum going about his nightly duties. And while focusing on that faint rustle off in the distance... WHAM! There's suddenly a runaway 18 wheeler coming through trees and headed right for me! I jumped up and shine about 250 lumens in that direction and see a huge buck stop dead in his tracks just staring at me.

Okay, a few night hikes under my belt, but only one time with the buck making an appearance. But I'll be damned if he didn't sound like one of God's monster trucks tearing through the trees! That was actually not the first time I've heard that, but apparently I've never gotten used to it.

Another issue of mine is that I'm somewhat of a... Security freak? Insecurity freak? My first step in planning was to see how I could send food boxes to mail drops about 100 miles or so along the trail. I'm usually pretty lightweight and minimalist when hiking and camping, but hey - this is me heading off in to the great unknown! So, of course, I feel obligated to ship all of my fears first-class.

Some more planning and studying has recently reduced that postage plan to about five or six strategic locations along the trail. But, in true rookie fashion, I was seriously ready to be ready!

Now, my search for the perfect, Mil-Spec, 0* accurate GPS device has been another similar adventure. I know there are blazes, but what if I get lost in the middle of nowhere? Oh God, I might never find my way out! I often feel great with a good topo map and my racing compass. But this isn't just a local jaunt through some uninhabited area - hell, they got something called the 100 miles wilderness out there! I need to be prepared!

Well, I've settled on one of my smaller, light-weight compasses just to feel good about having something and a copy of AWOL's guide (waiting til January for the 2016 edition.)

And now the most important thing ever... I can't wait to summit Katahdin!!! That is the whole reason for this hike, right? Nevermind all the sights and experiences, whatever. The whole point is finishing atop that mountain, right?

That, too, has since been tempered. If that were the point of the journey, I could just save some time and money and simply drive to Maine instead.

Man, I'll tell ya, I probably haven't even listed half of the changes I've went through or the thoughts I've had or even the seemingly long evolution from dreaming to planning to actually truly preparing. But you've got some of the highlights.

Currently, my mind is focused on just getting to Amicalola Falls, taking the Approach Trail, and seeing what happens next. I've tried to consciously stop referring to my plans as a thru-hike and instead simply say that I'm going for a long walk. (Don't remember who I stole that idea from, but it's a great one.) To me personally, the title of thru-hike has come to develop these strange connotations -like it's some sort of obligation or task that will leave a gaping hole in my life (and my soul) if I don't complete it for some reason. Whereas going for a long walk could be as simple as doing the Approach Trail and going home.

Today, my heart and my mind are on the trail. I have every intention of getting to Katahdin, as a matter of fact, it will most likely take a very drastic medical event to end my hike. Finances are cared for, gear is good (some still being tested), weather can be waited out, and I'm not a party animal (coffee seems to be my drink of choice these days) so I don't see many external factors that could alter my walk except for some unforeseen medical event (or BSP finally pulling the trigger on thru-hikers.) And that leaves me feeling fine.

If I end up leaving the trail at any point before Maine, then it was either medically necessary or I simply reached the point in my mind that I needed to reach (satisfied the very things that got me out there to begin with.) And I'm pretty sure I'd be able to live with either of those two things just fine (knowing that I took the shot and that I gave it my all.)

Whatever the outcome, my solace will be resolved in the knowledge that I took a shot at discomfort that I probably preferred to avoid, that I was blessed with the opportunity to see and do whatever I see and do, and that I live with the good health and a country that affords me the freedom and opportunity to be out there.

In summary, I'm over the romance. I have to get out there because not taking a shot at the trail would be much harder to live with than anything I might have to live with on the trail.

March 18th is my planned date. We'll see what happens from there. I was just last night reading some of what Oz was writing. I suppose the other great advice I stole from someone is not to quit on a bad day.

I'll tell ya what, no matter how far I get, it felt pretty damn good just to be able to say all of that stuff to anyone besides just my wife and not have to worry about the fallout.

^^^ T H I S ! ^^^

Wow! That's rough going... What a powerful thing it must have been when she told you to keep going. I may have over-stated my stubbornness a bit, as something going on with my family would have me headed home on the first thing smoking.

Your words about feeling free after shaking off the opinions of others carry some extra weight. I only hope I can gather and maintain the mentality to keep it "my hike" and not fall in to some other groove. I know what I want to do, I know how I feel now. But I don't know how I will feel after weeks or months of trail behind me (if I'm still there) and I do not know where my thoughts might be if I find myself hiking with another person (I really don't want to hike in any group.)

Most of all, I suppose I'm trying not to over-think it - or even worry about it for that matter. I won't know much for sure about how I think or feel until I'm actually on the trail. But I do know I really like the way you stated that bit about freedom once you realized you didn't care what anyone thought. If I were to loosely imitate a journey that someone else took, I suppose I'd like it to be that one. Cheers!

I can tell you (at this moment) what I'd like do.

But HikerBoy, Oz, and others have really started to influence my thinking. After some sleep and further consideration, I suppose I'll decide on that blaze when I get there. The only thing I'm becoming sure of beforehand is that I'll be okay with whatever I choose. Hell, if I choose correctly, it might even turn in to my own hike, lol.

EDIT: (Just re-read what I wrote and I apologize if it sounded smug or smartass. Wasn't my intention.)

I'm not very bright sometimes, so I may be off the mark a bit here. But just to be clear, my attitude about th decisions or difficulties I may face has begun to evolve - but not my goal.

I've said it elsewhere out in the digital vacuum -- Failing to plan is planning to fail. I'm really not sure I can plan how I'll feel at any given moment on the trail because I've never been on the trail (or even hiked for a month or better at a stretch.) But I do believe planning is important.

As I've also stated elsewhere, I believe planning to be a huge part of LNT, whereas failing basic planning is just irresponsible at least and dangerous at best.

My resolve and my goal are not an issue for me, nor have those been altered. I'm just slowly beginning to have less concern about being a "purist" or fitting some ideal hiker mold. This may sound ridiculous, but up until a few days ago it seems like I've been viewing my long walk as some sort of process or exercise that I have to "get right" while I'm out there. However, as of late, I've begun to let go of those silly notions and realize its okay to just go take a walk and enjoy whatever comes. I'm not applying for club membership or trying to pass a test (well, I sort of am setting out to test myself, but I'm the only one who can evaluate the results.)

As is evident in another thread I started on this site, I've been far too concerned with "getting it right," so much so that I've overlooked some important considerations. For example, for some reason I've become obsessed with getting my base weight "just right" for a long walk. And in the midst of that obsession, I completely overlooked a very common and somewhat preventable issue - ticks.

I'm not solely focused on ticks now, but rather my point is that since getting involved over here at the Cafe I'm spending less and less time thinking about "getting things right" and spending more time focusing on the more practical aspects of planning. I'm pretty sure that's attributable to reading and discussing practical matters over here versus dodging idealistic bullets elsewhere on the web.

Did I ever mention I was glad I found this site?