Hurricane Post!

Today I spend my first (official) zero day on the trail in the town of Bennington, VT. Obviously the rain alone of Hurricane Irene has made the rivers and streams of the forests impassible. I am blessed to be able to spend the duration of the storm in the home of Glenda, a friend of my friends Matt and Aislinn. She cooked up a huge breakfast for me this morning and has graciously opened her house up to me. This came at a perfect time for me as I have been losing a  lot of weight recently. It's so hard to keep weight up on the trail. When you walk twenty miles a day with a pack over mountains, you really can't eat enough. I end up atoning for on-trail weight loss by eating as much as possible at restaurants in every town I pass through. I know it's time to head into town when I can look down and see ribs I never knew were there before. 

Since I have almost completed the AT section of Vermont (15 miles left till the Mass. border), I guess I'll give a short recap of the past week.

Immediately upon entering Vermont on the first day I walked by a man bathing the pond outside his house, completely nude. This wasn't a backwoods location, but centrally located on a public town road. I thought "OK" and kept walking. The next day I was walking (in the woods this time) and a man walked toward me in the northbound direction. We both plodded past each other, exchanged "How's it going?"s and continued on. Two or three steps later it hit me that he was completely naked, and was holding a pair of shorts in front of his "upper thigh region". By the time I recovered enough to ask him if he was OK he had already disappeared into the foliage. At this time I was about to go onto a side trail that led to a shelter about a hundred yards into the woods to take a lunch break. There were loud noises and uproarious laughter emanating from the direction of the shelter. I stopped, thought about it for a second, decided I really wasn't all that hungry yet, and left the possible origin of the naked man's nudity behind me. 

I had a big day planned for Thursday. I was going to get up early, hike ten miles into Manchester Center, eat a cheeseburger, resupply, get out of town as soon as possible, and hike ten more miles to put me in good position to be in Bennington for the weekend - all by 8PM. The first part of the day went flawlessly: I made great time over a couple mountains and hitched into MC by 12:30PM. I had an angus cheeseburger (This is for you Uncle Alan and Aunt Nancy!), had two ice cream cones at MacDonald's (VERY underrated for their ice cream, $1.25 total for two cones!), resupplied at Price Chopper, and prepared to hitch out of town when a guy comes up to me and offers me a ride. I gratefully accepted and jumped in his truck. Another tiny elderly man, either his father or father-in-law was in the passenger seat and I was in the extended cab seat. This is the conversation that followed from Price Chopper to the trail head, edited for appropriateness of course.

Driver: You don't have a piano wire with you do you? 

(All three occupants laugh)

Me: No, left it at home.

Old Guy: By the time he got that thing around my neck I would have shot his head off.

(All three laughing, as I peak around the seat to see if he's actually packing heat - he's not, as far as I can tell) 

Driver: Where should we put this one, in the back yard with the other hikers?

(Front-seaters laughing heartily, I chuckle along as I start thinking about which pocket I left my knife in)

Old-guy: We're starting to run out of grave space, you know.

(front seaters continue along this line of conversation as I remember I left my knife in my backpack - which is in the bed of the truck)

Old-guy: You know, I'm an avid hunter.

Me (trying to keep things light): Well, I have a bright orange rainjacket, so don't shoot me out there.

Old-guy: I shoot anything that moves that I can eat.

(I spend the rest of the trip with my hand on the door handle - prepared to jump at any time.

Now obviously nothing happened, and they weren't being serious. But if you ever pick up a hitch hiker (which you shouldn't unless he's a 6-2 hiker with a reddish beard and dashing good looks), don't bring up any of the stereotypes of disastrous hitches or any possible negative occurrences while he or she is in the car. It was the most uncomfortable car ride of my life. I wish I could say that the day got better from there, but I can't. By 10:30 that night I was stuck in a bog at the bottom of a mountain and my headlamp went out. I had batteries in my backpack, but it took an hour for me to find my cellphone to find the batteries, to figure out how to open the headlamp, and get the batteries in the right way. Then I had to hike a few more hours.

This all sounds so negative, but this only made up one day of my time in Vermont which I have otherwise totally enjoyed. Whether it's walking out of the woods into the middle of a cow farm, or passing by farm stands between mountains, it has been a great state. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story. 

A typical mountaintop field.

The largest, furriest caterpillar I have ever seen!

They're really getting creative now...

A pig at a farm that I actually got to stay at for a night!

Farm stand where I ate a strawberry-rhubarb pie.

Me and Phyllis. She was not pleased to be there.

The AT runs along with the LT for about 100 miles - this is for you D. Moore.

Sunset from the top of the Glastonbury fire tower.

I was there, too.

Thanks for reading, God Bless, and I hope everyone stays safe in the storm!

Belated Pictures, Movies, and So Long New Hampshire!

Other than finishing the state of New Hampshire (in 14 days for those who were wondering), not a ton has happened that I would declare as newsworthy, so I figured I'd put up all the pictures that help tell the tale of the past 14 days. Starting with an epic animal encounter...

Yes, there she is. The full "discovery" film can be found on Facebook.

As usual in the Whites - no views.

The "Ice Cream Man" - with brother and creepy cat doll.

Sometimes it's all about the air flow.

I walked out of the Whites and into a field of wildflowers - a great welcome into kinder terrain.

 

 

The AT, where mountains become "mountains".

So, in summation. I ran into a moose, I ran into a week and a half of bad weather, I ran into a man who was giving away free ice cream, and finally I hit easier terrain. I'll be putting up a video on facebook from the last White mountain, Mt. Moosilauke. I went up there during a bad storm and got knocked around by winds that I estimate were close to 100mph. Don't forget to vote on the VT poll! God Bless!

At a Truckstop Diner Just Outside of Lincoln...

Fine, I'm actually in the Lincoln, NH public library, but I couldn't decide on a title that summed up the last week because there were far too many to choose from, so I just went with a line from a country song. I guess I could have referred to the hiking of Mt. Washington and the Presidentials, or the unexpected run-in with forest wildlife that I can't tell you about yet because I can't download pictures or movies for some reason! So basically this is going to be a very boring check-in. In fact, if you want to stop reading because there are no pictures, please feel free - I would if I were you. I'm paying $4/hr to use this computer, and over half of that has been spent trying to post pictures and movies on the blog and on youtube, but apparently this computer isn't set up for that. So safe to say this will be short.

I have approximately twenty miles left of the White Mountains, which would be a sad thing had I enjoyed any views whatsoever. For the most part my summits have been clothed in fog and rain, and the only good pictures I was able to take (other than of said wildlife encounter) was going up and down Mount Washington. For some reason it was one of the easier mountains for me to climb - I may have been somewhat fueled by the promise of food at the top (not something that usually happens while reaching a summit). While the climb was awesome, the Disney World-esque frenzy at the top put me in a daze. I sat down at the cafeteria with my heaping tray of food and watched as families piled off of the train, rushed through the museum, plowed through the food line, bought matching t-shirts at the gift shop, yelled at each other, took pictures with the summit sign, then jumped back on the train for the thirty minute ride to the parking lot. An actual fight broke out between a mother and daughter at my table, which finally convinced me I had stayed too long. It was such a weird concept for me to understand in light of my hike - I was just so happy to have made it to the top and to be there that I couldn't understand why these people weren't amazed at where they were. I know some people's only chance of seeing that kind of view is taking a car or train to the top, but I almost wish it wasn't there - any of it. I probably wouldn't have said this before I became a "hiker", but if you don't earn it I guess you can't enjoy it. For me it will remain a blur of noise and activity in an otherwise mostly serene and beautiful journey. 

Just went past 1 hr, so I guess this means I might as well use up the next half hour that I'm already paying for anyway. As I said earlier, only twenty miles left in the Whites. My knees need to get out, that's for sure. Sometimes it takes me a full minute in the morning to go from crouching at the entrance of my tent to a full standing position. Another benefit of getting out of NH and into VT is that the climbs get easier - or so I'm told - and thus I can finally start to rack up more miles per day. Then when I get to Massachusetts I can really start to crank it up. I've been averaging maybe 13 or so miles per day over the Whites, so hopefully I can get into the 20's with no ginormous rock faces to scramble up and then fall down. Ok, I'm going to use my last ten minutes or so on the internet doing something other than writing. If you've read all the way through, thank you and God Bless! And don't forget to vote on the new poll at the top! And last second shout outs to my parents for sending my supplies to different towns along the way, and to the folks at the White Mountains Hostel for sending me my journal, Bible, and Guidebook that I had left behind! Ok, I really need to stop writing now...

Hit the Road, Maine! I Ain't Comin' Back 'Cept by Train or Boat or Car or Plane!

Yes. I have completed my first state of the Appalachian Trail - all two-hundred eighty-one point-something miles of the moose poop-laden, rock-filled, root-knotted, and sometimes head-scratching Maine "foot path". And it was awesome. Every wipe out, ankle roll, and blister surgery (yes, scissors included) was worth the wealth of summit vistas, friendly conversations, and trail knowledge that I collected along the way. For those of you keeping track at home, I completed Maine on the morning of the 23rd day of my hike, placing me comfortably within the 21-25 day range for the poll responses. For those of you who answered correctly, you may choose between: the blue shirt I wore through the entire state of Maine (I'm throwing it out otherwise), an autographed photo of me and the "Kennebec River Ferryman" (unfortunately he wasn't giving autographs at the time), or maybe you'd rather just give yourself a pat on the back...

Maine is no more.

Yet, barely a dent has been made.

With me for this crossing of state-lines was my extremely brave sister, the one formerly known as Kristen. Whenever you see or call her now, you must refer to her by her trail name "Squirrel". You might think that she received this name due to her uncanny ability of scrambling around rocks and trees, or for her foresight of packing food for a rainy day (much like squirrels store up acorns and nuts for the winter), and you would be right in thinking so. However, this name was given her based on her snacking tendencies while on the trail. It seemed like every time I looked back to check on her she was pulling a small stash of trail mix out of the side pouch of her backpack, or stooping down to pick blueberries and raspberries on the tops of mountains. She wanted a trail name. She got one.

Squirrel in rock-climbing action (notice food pouch on right hip).

Food anecdotes aside, she really was a trooper. Through no design of her own, she set aside this past week of her summer to hike what is known by many as the most difficult section of the AT - The Mahoosuc mountain range which includes Mahoosuc Notch, a labyrinth of boulders and ice caves. If you don't believe me, watch this movie.

Mountain hiking/climbing isn't an easy thing to just pick up and start doing, let alone in the middle of a tough section of trail. My sister kept right up with me, and owned the downhill sections so well that I made sure she led every time. Downhill on the AT doesn't mean strolling down a gentle slope, it means picking your way down roots and rocks which are often covered in a coat of slime or rain. It was awesome having her along for the week, and I hope she had as much fun as I did (although she did say someone would have to pay her 5,000 dollars to do that section again). The fact that none of my "Summercamp" buddies caught up to us after a week of hiking is a testament to how well she really did.

As for other occurrences of note, I have continued so far to live up to my name of "9 Lives". With Squirrel watching doubtfully, I attempted a crossing of a wet, rotten log 3 to 4 feet above a perfectly manageable piece of trail. I don't know why I tried it, but it looked like a very attractive option at the time. Of course I fell off and luckily landed in a little tree that held me back from falling the rest of the way down the mountain. I think I was too happy to be alive to take a picture. Another time I was trying to catch up to my sister who had taken off in front of me, downhill. I began to practice what I thought to be good "trail running", which to me was "running as fast as I could down the trail". Didn't see the wet rock face drop off waiting for me - so I continued to "ski?" my way down the rock, pulled off a complete 360, and somehow landed on my two feet. This is not skill, people. This is God watching over me. If you read my journal you'll find almost every night without fail, "STOP DOING DUMB STUFF!" or "NEED TO BE MORE CAREFUL!" written somewhere in the entry.

Instead of telling complete stories of what happened in the past week and a half, here are some pictures...

The hardworking volunteers that keep the trail running. They asked if they could take my picture, so I told them it would cost them one too.

Pumped to be on a mountain with no view.

Can someone (an ornithologist?) please identify this bird for me??? They jump out at me from the trees and yell at me. But they're fat and can't seem to fly too well...

A typical AMC shelter.

Again, these boulders were ridiculous.

As for the hike overall so far, I'm really enjoying it. Other than a few cuts, bruises, and losing just over twenty pounds, I feel pretty good. I find I can consistently get myself up mountains without stopping for a break, and at times I can pull off 20 mile days if I really need to. If I'm having an off day, and getting to a peak seems out of the question, I repeat Isaiah 40:31 over, and over, and over until I find myself at the top.

Everyone out here is in the same boat, so it's easy to get to know people through their stories and struggles. Not many people know why they're out here doing this, and sometimes neither do I. I never doubt that what I'm doing is a good and valuable thing, but sometimes I wonder what it is exactly I'm getting out of it. And although I don't have a distinct answer, I usually come to this conclusion: That a lot of what I'm doing with my life and thinking about, I do because it is what I think someone my age is supposed to be doing and thinking about. Not that going to college and getting a job are the wrong things to do (they're not). I just needed to distance myself from the flow and examine my options from afar. I don't need to come up with a blueprint of what I want to do with the rest of my life, I just needed a little "hitting of the brakes" to allow myself to slow down and think a little (and pray a lot). I guess I don't want to do anything for the sole sake of doing "something" because it felt like the right thing to do and made sense. I always come back to this prayer when I think I'm becoming too much a part of this world and start to settle just because it feels natural:

Prayer of Sir Francis Drake
--------------------​------------

Disturb us, Lord, when We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love. 




If only there was something about hiking in there everything would be perfect, but I did "find the stars". Last night I "cowboy'd" it and slept under the stars with nothing but my pad and sleeping bag. I felt absolutely tiny with the whole forest around me and the universe above, and I even got to see a bunch of shooting stars (one seemed so bright that it could have landed a few miles away). I'll be taking a week off from the trail to head to Camp-of-the-Woods with my family for our annual vacation, but I'll be back in Gorham before I know it to finish the next 110 miles of New Hampshire and 1,800 of the Appalachian Trail. Thank you everyone for your texts and comments! They give me something to think about or laugh at when deep pondering has run its course for the day. Thanks for reading and until next time, God Bless!  

New Friends, Surprises, and Terrible Photography.

So a lot's happened since my last update. I took off from Monson a day ahead of my "Summercamp" friends - it was too early in the journey for me to take a zero (no hiking) day. Hiking the trail by yourself is a different experience. Instead of throwing thoughts back and forth between a friend, you find yourself with no one to complain to, which makes for a very quiet hike.

It would be quiet, I guess, if it weren't for the symphony that accompanies a hike in the Maine forest. I'm not talking about the songs of the birds, the soft breeze through the evergreens, or the movement of a playful deer. I'm referring to a much closer orchestra - the low drone that constantly surrounds your head. First you have the black flies (deer flies). These gems of the forest are by far the most loyal of your winged companions. They will never leave you unless:

1. You end their life with a headache-inducing swat.
2. They achieve their goal and fly away with a piece of your scalp.
3. They leave you for a juicier, less jittery target.

The trick that I try to use (although useless when hiking alone) is to yell out to whoever is hiking in front or behind you, "Did you see that?" Then when they stop to follow where my finger is pointing in the woods I stand real close to them, wait until the fly has locked onto their head, then disengage to a safe distance. "Oh, I thought I saw a deer. Sorry."

Then there is the common mosquito. Until this hike I never appreciated the speed with which a mosquito can travel. Even at a light trot downhill I can look over my shoulder and see a cloud of the bloodthirsty trumpeters in hot pursuit - never further than six inches behind me. And maybe it's just Maine mosquitoes, but apparently they have developed an immunity to deet. Three nights ago I decided I was too tired to set up my tent and slipped into an empty lean-to; trusty bug-spray can at my side. After a few minutes of relentless attacks I brought out the can, spraying a wide perimeter of deet around my head and sleeping bag... It was like squeezing ketchup on a burger. Suffice it to say, ten minutes later I promised myself never again would I be too lazy to set up my bug-proof tent.

And lastly, the assortment of mini-bugs that are to blame for the majority of accidental ingestions and inhalations. These guys will make a direct route to the inside of you ear canals, nostrils, and eyeballs. Even when I have my headphones in they will fly as hard as they can into some part of your ear then ram the headphones trying to find a way in.

With all this going on I've learned that the best defense against this relentless host of attackers is ignorance. I pull my hat low, put in my headphones, keep my mouth closed, and my eyes down. They aren't going anywhere so I might as well learn to coexist. 

Which reminds me...I haven't yet introduced my hat. Besides, we haven't had a picture in a while.

I know...classy.

All this and I haven't gotten to any of the title topics. I can't believe I just wrote five paragraphs on bugs...

So quickly, two days after leaving Monson I ran into this guy named "The Rock". After talking a while I agreed to "walk" with him for the day. This was the biggest mistake/best decision so far on the trip. The mistake was that he was an ultra-marathoner, and trying to keep up with him nearly ended my life on several occasions (luckily I have 9 to spare...). The guy ran up and down Katahdin for crying out loud! The reason it was also the best decision of the trip was that he is a really cool guy and invited me to his parent's hunting cabin located less than a quarter mile off the trail. His mom drove up and made us steak, ribs, potato salad, and the best molasses cookies I have ever eaten. We swam, had a bonfire with s'mores, then fell asleep to Air Force One playing in the background. Rock's nephew came up and in the morning we all set off to hike Bigelow Mountain (after a huge breakfast of course). We called his nephew "Ice Breaker", after he told us he hoped to meet a girl on the mountain. 

The Rock, Ice Breaker, and 9 Lives

Those two decided to spend the night on the mountain, while I continued to hike to a campground near the bottom. We met again in Stratton, from where I am currently writing. Although Rock will be flying by me shortly, on pace to finish in 3 months, hopefully we can keep in touch. I am forever grateful to both he and his parents for their humbling hospitality and kindness shown to me.

I'll end this post with a segment I like to call Things that make me shake my head on the trail.

1. Finding moose scat on the tops of mountains. Seriously. When does a moose find time in its day to hike a mountain?? Isn't it busy doing important moose stuff like avoiding hunters and cameras? There's absolutely nothing for them to eat up there, and don't tell me they need their exercise. This never ceases to astound me.
2. The trail-makers. Imagine yourself walking along a beautiful lake. Nice, right? Unless you're on the AT. In this case you will go back and forth between walking next to the lake, then hiking away from it to go up a random hill a couple hundred yards away, then hiking back to it - in a zig-zag pattern. There's plenty of open woods to make the trail go straight if you're going to follow the lake anyway. I guess they just needed to stuff more miles onto the trail. Not bitter, just confused.
3. The Roaming Dude. Dude carries a 55 pound pack, has three mobile devices (all with backup chargers), and carries his food sack in his hands...which he throws in front of him. He doesn't filter his water, but he is on facebook, twitter, and youtube.
4. Fire-tower Arsonists. C'mon, there's no reason to do this. 

     5. My inability to capture on camera any semblance of life faster than a toad. A moose, a deer, a fox, a rabbit, several squirrels, numerous snakes, and an owl. I'm so disappointed I'm not even going to show you the toad.

I'm sure to have more of these by next time...

I was going to do a whole post on Northbound and Southbound hiker relations, but that can wait for another day. I also want to detail my gear at some point but for now, I'll end with a few pictures...

Me and the Kennebec River ferryman. When I asked for his name he responded, "Kennebec River Ferryman".

Yes, I am hiking mountains, too.

One way or another...

I'll leave you with a "live-update" video I made last night. Mind you, I was a little out of it when I made it...well, you can probably see for yourself. For those of you who made it all the way through this, Thanks! God bless!

LIVE from Monson, ME!

The view from the backside of Katahdin.

I write to you from the Lakeshore House Hostel in Monson, Maine - 114.5 miles into my Appalachian Trail thru-hike. This place is sweet - internet access, a real bed, tacos. I'm halfway through a half gallon of strawberry ice cream as I write this post. I'm going to try to stay awake long enough to write a decent post; my sleeping schedule has altered quite a bit, to say the least.

I'll start from the beginning: All went well with the ascent of Katahdin - EDokk and I cruised up and down without much drama.In fact, due to the lack of a pack and the addition of adrenaline, it has been the easiest summit so far. We got up there on a great weather day, as you can see from the picture above (as you'll begin to notice, I'm really enjoying the panoramic setting on my camera - I just feel like I'm not really capturing the whole setting if I'm not using it.) Anyway, for a non-panoramic photo, here's EDokk and I at the top.

Thanks E, wouldn't have been the same without you.

So here's what an average day looks like so far (and probably won't change too much for the rest of the trip.) I wake up between 4-6AM, eat, hike until about 4-6PM, eat, then go to bed around 7 or 8. There's not a whole lot else to think about other than how far to walk. So far, I've been going between 10 and 18 miles per day - depending on elevation and soreness levels. I've found that I feel every mile that I hike - I can't just "cruise through" a three mile section of the trail. When you're hiking over mountains (sometimes four consecutively) the going is slow, and it might take over two hours to hike a single mile.

I should mention that I haven't been hiking alone. After hiking down Katahdin I ran into a bunch of guys that are heading down to Georgia too. There's "Frog Morton" and "Moose Head" from Tennessee, "Smooth Sailing" from Georgia, and then "Aussie" from down under, as you probably could have guessed. These are their trail names, which have been given based on something that happened on the trail or some distinct quality about them.

My trail name was "Cotton" for a little while, due to the cotton socks I wore for the first few days which gave me huge blisters. That was before the group realized my incredible penchant for wiping out. I've slipped on more roots, rocks, logs, and mud pits on the trail than I have in my entire life. I once took my boots off to ford a river, then slipped on a rock and ate it - soaking everything I had on me. Another time I slipped backwards off a log at a swimming hole and landed directly in the center of a ring of sharp rocks. An inch either way and my trip would have ended with a cracked skull or back, but thankfully I walked away with a little cut on my foot. For instances like these I have been dubbed "9 Lives" - and I'm probably down to 6 at this point for the rest of the trail.

We've dubbed ourselves "Team Summercamp" due to the camplike structure we have right now - the more experienced hiker "Smooth Sailing" is our camp counselor. I'll have to break off from the group when Kristen comes to hike with me in 9 days, but for now we're just hanging out and having a great time.

9 Lives, Smooth Sailing, Moose Head, Frog Morton, and Aussie.

Here comes the most tragic part of the trip so far. Maybe four days ago we were walking together in a group when Frog turns around and yells "MOOSE!" I had been waiting for this since the first day I thought about walking the trail. I looked up and saw a bull moose just standing there, thirty feet in front of me on the trail. It was awesome. I didn't freeze. Instead, I looked down to take out my camera, tripped on a root, and crashed to the ground. The moose ran away before I even got up. Photo opportunity ruined. Still plenty of Maine left, I guess.

I'm exhausted so I'll leave you with a few choice photos.

Here's your generic looking into the sunset shot.

A shot from the top of the fire tower on Barren Mountain. I carved my initials into an old piece of wood at the top.

And lastly, a sign you won't find in any restaurant. I crushed a 1 lb burger.

My group wants to take a zero day (no hiking) in Monson tomorrow, but I might push on ahead. It all depends on my feet/knee conditions. I'm excited for Kristen to join me in just over a week! Once again, i'll talk to you all again when I get the opportunity. Until then, thanks for reading and God Bless!

And...He's off!!

This is kmh signing in to update that tph has begun his trek!  He and erd just left on their way to ME for Mt. Katahdin.  Here are a few photos of the send off.

 

Family photo.

 

 K, T, and E

Lookin' good and ready:)

Go Tim!!