Here are a few graphics I made in 2013 that are kind of about hiking and backpacking. Sort of. I included the one with the dogs mainly because it's a picture I took while hiking the CDT. Enjoy!
To check out Volume Two, CLICK HERE.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Friday, December 27, 2013
Trip Report: Winter Backpacking With Matthewski
I can guess what some of you might be thinking. “Jester, on trail in the winter? Isn’t he a fair-weather hiker?”
And if that’s what you’re thinking, you’re absolutely right. If I ever had an interest in hiking in cold, wet weather (note: I didn’t), I lost that interest the year I hiked the 1700 miles of California on the PCT and encountered exactly three days of precipitation.
But when my friend Matthewski asked me to join him on a section of the AT in Pennsylvania in December, I jumped at the chance. Because Matty often brings steak when he hikes. And he always brings bacon. So on the evening of December 19th we met in Duncannon, Pennsylvania, and set up a shuttle for the next day to the start of what would be a three day hike from the liquor store in Duncannon to the Quick-Mart (also in Duncannon).
At this point I feel like I should halt the narrative and caution the reader regarding the challenges of winter backpacking. Hiking in the winter is not for the unprepared or the inexperienced, and a hike from the liquor store to the Quick-Mart can be fraught with danger. Mistakes that one can make without consequence in the standard “hiking season” can be potentially life-threatening in cold conditions with slippery sidewalks, and everything is more difficult in the winter, including, as we were to find out, route finding.
But back to the Trip Report:
Day 1
Because Our shuttle driver, Trail Angel Mary, had Avon deliveries to make in the AM, we got a later start than originally planned, hitting the trail under cloudy skies around 10:30.
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| Trail Angel Mary dropping us off. |
We made it all the way across the parking lot in good time, taking our first break by the artillery piece in front of the American Legion.
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| Our first break, after hiking the parking lot. |
It was shortly thereafter that we ran into our first problem of the trip. Because the double blaze that indicated a change in direction was located across the street, we completely missed the turn. Hours of off-trail frustration later (briefly wandering onto Hwy 11/15, turning back, making another wrong turn, ending up in the Mutzabaugh Market’s frozen food aisle), we backtracked and figured out where the trail actually went -- past the BBQ sign and under the overpass.
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| The double blaze we missed, from head-on and from our POV. |
But the whole thing ended up being a blessing in disguise. Our original intention had been to crank out more tenths of a mile on Day 1, but had we done so we wouldn’t have ended up discovering a sweet campsite across from the Perry County Beer Distributor, where we bedded down after enjoying the previously mentioned steak and bacon, along with a case of Lord Chesterfield Ale.
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| Sweet Campsite, Night 1. |
Day 2
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| Resisting the urge to go off trail. |
Our second day on trail saw us getting a late start, mainly due to the previously mentioned case of Lord Chesterfield Ale. We nonetheless had an amazing day, with great views of the Sonny Daze Laundromat and the Curves Fitness Club as we crossed to the opposite side of the trail to hike past Zeiderelli’s Pizza.
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| Day 2: Exhaustion sets in. |
Exhausted and cold, we took our lunch break by the Christmas Tree in the park. To be perfectly honest, at this point the low temps were really getting to me, and I gave some thought to quitting. But our maps showed too narrow a trail corridor to come up with an impromptu bail-out plan, so there was nothing for it but to press on.
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| Breaking out the maps. |
The next section was a bit confusing, with signs alternately describing it as “Maket Street” and “Maret Street,” but we were fine until we reached a baffling trail intersection and accidentally took a side trail that led to The Doyle Hotel.
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| The trail is poorly signed through this area. |
Taking the detour in stride, we had a few beers in the bar, then backtracked to where we had gone wrong and, confident we could make up the mileage the next day, decided to camp right there. After setting up the tent, we enjoyed a dinner of steak and bacon, along with sixes to go that we picked up while on our side-trail adventure.
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| Cooking dinner on night 2. |
Although it was winter time, we decided to bear bag our food because of a pack of roving teenagers sighted earlier in the day.
Note: Some will debate the merits of sleeping with your food vs. hanging food when there are teenagers around. I prefer to put my food, and anything that has come into contact with my food -- cookpot, spoon, eating gloves, eating helmet, all of my clothes, sleeping bag, shoes, and my beard (I’m a messy eater) -- into an enormous bag, hung safely PCT-style from the nearest streetlight.
Anyway, aside from the train and a lot of passing cars, it was your typical quiet evening on the trail, and we got a good night’s sleep.
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| Moments before loading everything into the bearbag. |
Day 3
Originally we had planned a short day on Day 3, but it turned out to be slightly longer because of Day 2's navigation errors. We ended up getting a late start due to the previously mentioned sixes to go, along with the fact that it took us 45 minutes to recover our tent stakes from where they had been pounded into the sidewalk. We took our time once we got to hiking, enjoying a long walk down Cumberland Street past the Karaoke/DJ place, and at one point Matty swore he could see the Drive-Up ATM behind the bank, but clouds rolled in and I missed it.
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| It's important to stay calm when lost. |
Possibly because of the same clouds we got all the way to the Fire House before we realized that we were lost again. Breaking out our maps and compasses, we tried to figure out where we had gone wrong and how to get back on trail. Finally, at one point Matty turned around and realized that the Quick-Mart was right there across the street! Normally we would have backtracked on trail once again just to be safe, but as the Quick-Mart was clearly visible we decided to go cross-country and not too long after we crossed the street we arrived at our destination for this trip.
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| Finished! |
Looking back on the hike now, I realize that I enjoy winter backpacking, and that given the right equipment, attitude, and partner, it can actually be fun. I’m definitely looking forward to our next trip (a section of the AT in Pennsylvania) scheduled for a week in February -- from the Quick-Mart in Duncannon to The Cabin Strip Club (also in Duncannon).
Special thanks to:
Harold Frederick, Kelly Dewire, Matthewski, and Trail Angel Mary Parry
Note for the clueless:
You are not actually allowed to camp on the streets of Duncannon.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
How To Counteract The "Wild Effect."
Manufacturing A Solitary Wilderness Experience
With the release of the book “Wild” and the in-production Reese Witherspoon movie of the same name (as well as the revival of plans for the “A Walk In The Woods” film), many are expressing concern that National Scenic Trails will become overcrowded, ruining the value of the “wilderness experience.” And while (to this writer) that seems the least of the worries for those who care about the trails, I feel it important to address it, and (of course!) offer possible solutions.
With the release of the book “Wild” and the in-production Reese Witherspoon movie of the same name (as well as the revival of plans for the “A Walk In The Woods” film), many are expressing concern that National Scenic Trails will become overcrowded, ruining the value of the “wilderness experience.” And while (to this writer) that seems the least of the worries for those who care about the trails, I feel it important to address it, and (of course!) offer possible solutions.
Since the weathy, oversexed, half-cybernetic version of me didn’t show up back in 1996 to tell me, “DO NOT GET ENGAGED TO THAT GIRL,” we have to assume that time-traveling backwards and hiking in 1986 is not an option. The way I see it, you have one of three choices:
Hike When It’s Not “Hiking Season”
The obvious solution to wanting a solitary wilderness experience is simply hiking when other people don’t. But there’s a reason why there’s a “hiking season,” and that reason is this:
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| This is Rachel "Hot Mess" Brown, who apparently thinks it's always hiking season. |
For me, hiking high and camping in deep snow is a special level of hell reserved for serial killers and people who steal lighters. So I’m clearly not enough of a badass for this option. And let’s be honest. Neither are you.
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| Seriously. What is this? Mountaineering? This barely qualifies as hiking. |
So accepting that, we move on to option two:
Southbounding
Here’s the thing about Southbounders on long trails: they’re crazy. SOBOs who start late are even crazier. And SOBOs who start late and actually finish end up being the craziest people you’ll ever meet.
Take Jake “Don’t Panic” Down, currently finishing up a southbound thru-hike on the Appalachian Trail. He’s been alone for months now. Alone long enough that he thought this schedule was a good idea:
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| 630 miles in 22 days. The schedule of a disordered mind. |
But for the solitary southbound hiker, an outlandish mileage schedule is just the tip of the wingnut iceberg. Do you know what it’s like to spend month after month alone? Do you really like yourself that much? I certainly don’t. There’s a reason why solitary confinement is a punishment in prison.
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| Don't Panic with the pack that will eventually leave him. |
So back to Don’t Panic. He’s not just talking to himself. He’s talking to his pack. They’re having long, meaningful conversations. He’s thinking about proposing to it at Springer. Now, maybe you think that’s weird. But the truly crazy part is he thinks that pack isn’t going to be sluttin’ it around as soon as they get off the trail. I mean, it’s just a trail relationship, Panic! WAKE UP!
As far as southbounding goes, take my advice: you’re already the craziest person SOMEBODY knows. Don’t be the craziest person EVERYBODY knows.
Take a moment for some self-reflection. Are you, like me, NOT a badass? Are you comfortable with your current level of lunacy? (note: you’re crazier than you think). If you answered "yes" to both of these questions, you’re down to one other option:
Encouraging Avoidance (AKA the “See You Later -- Not If I See You First” Method)
Fortunately, even here you have choices:
Tell Me All About Your Homemade Gear.
Incessantly.
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| The Robots (PCT08) made all of their own gear, but failed to be annoying about it. |
The obvious downside to this method is that you have to make your own gear, and I’m incredibly lazy and unskilled. I can barely make a sandwich. But once you get over that hurdle, having the trail to yourself is a snap. Your opening conversational gambit is to ask other people about their pack/tent/sleeping bag/stove. And then after listening to them briefly you can launch into long-winded monologues about how much lighter your tent is, how much more comfortable your quilt feels, and how much you love, love, love your sewing machine.
You’ll be all alone in about a week.
Me? I’m too lazy for this option. In town, I hitch to places I can actually see.
So for the slothful and incompetent, there’s the following possibility:
Make Everyone Else Your Sherpa
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| Hint: Target people with big packs. |
Not carrying all of the stuff you want to use has the obvious benefit of lightening your pack, with the added bonus of eventually encouraging others to avoid you like a stove-borrowing plague.
Why shouldn’t other people let you look at their maps? Or loan you their knife? Or their duct tape? Or their headlamp? I mean, sure, you’re going stoveless, but other hikers shouldn’t mind you using their stoves “just to brew up some tea,” right? And if you don’t have a tent on the AT and they do, shouldn’t someone get out of the shelter for you when it’s raining? Absolutely! (Be extra demanding on that last one!)
Time ‘til complete isolation: four days.
There’s an obvious downside to this plan, though. Eventually you’re alone and there’s no one to loan you their stuff. So savvy lazy people will go for choice number three:
Be Dirty. No, I Mean Really, Really Dirty
Discovered accidentally by hikers on the Appalachian Trail, being really, really dirty is a method of encouraging avoidance that takes no effort whatsoever. This plan does take a bit longer to take effect, but when it does you’ll pretty much have the trail to yourself.
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| Anish, off to a good start. |
I’ve gone without a shower for 17 days, but you need to be more committed than that. You need to be someone who doesn’t shower even when showering is a possibility. Someone with clothes so dirty they'll make a commercial washing machine stop working like the French in August. You want hotel maids approaching your room with trepidation and a HazMat suit.
Yeah, You’ll get the odd staph infection and fecal-matter-related illness, but isn’t that a small price to pay for a little seclusion? Absolutely!
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Swiss Cheese's shirt used to be white. And that's not
a tan on Buckket's legs.
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| Ideally, people will be able to actually SEE your stink |
So despite the trails getting popular to the point that they might actually exist in 30 years, you CAN have the very, very lonely trail experience you desire. Get crazy, get annoying, get filthy. And if all else fails, and you really, really want to be all by yourself, you can always do this:
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| Scott "Squatch" Herriott, Guaranteeing solitude on the PCT. But do you really want people to think you're a Yankees fan? |
Photos Courtesy Of: Benjamin Newkirk, Jake Down, Heather Anderson, Peggy Smith
Special Thanks To: Hot Mess, Smooth, Don't Panic, Anish, Bonelady, and Squatch!
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Ask A Thru-Hiker: Lint's Favorite Gear
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| Wes Ratko on the AT. |
Once again it’s time for another installment in our ongoing series, “Ask A Thru-Hiker!” Today’s question comes from Wes Ratko, a beginning hiker who loves the outdoors. “I have been known,” claims Wes, “to walk all the way to the train station, even in a light rain.”
Our Thru-Hiker today is Lint, a Triple-Triple Crowner who has also hiked the Ice Age Trail, the Colorado Trail, the Arizona Trail, and the Florida Trail, and currently holds the record for Yo-Yo section hikes on the Appalachian Trail in Duncannon from The Cabin Strip Club to the Perry County Beer Distributor and back (143).
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| Lint's CDT Map: "Just because you have to carry the ink doesn't mean you have to carry the paper." |
Lint is known for his dedication to the lightweight backpacking ethos, so much so that he now uses maps tattooed to his body instead of the cumbersome paper versions or those found on heavy electronic devices
Today’s question from Wes for our Thru-Hiker: “What’s your favorite piece of gear?”
Says Lint: “I know it might come as a surprise to people who think of me as a lightweight hiker, but my favorite piece of gear is my car door. Sure, a car door is heavy, but I’ve modified mine and stripped it down so that it comes in at a manageable 47 pounds. And it’s such a versatile multi-use piece of gear that I think the weight is more than justified.”
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| Lint With His Backpacking Car Door |
How does Lint use the door?
“Well, you know, the obvious things. When it’s really hot out I roll the window down. And when it’s really buggy out I roll the window up. Cold wind? No problem with a car door, eliminating the need to carry a wind shirt or windstopper fleece. But I’m always discovering new uses for the door -- on the PCT in ’09 the rear view mirror kept me from being stalked by mountain lions, and also allowed me to promptly get out of the way of hikers overtaking me. Which happened quite often, because, you know, I was carrying a car door.”
Not only is it a mindblowingly useful piece of gear on trail, gear that some have called “the Swiss Army Knife of auto body parts” -- but a car door also comes in handy during town stops.
“There are times when the only ATM in town is a drive-thru. And you can imagine the stares I used to get just standing there, waiting in line with a car door in front of me and a car door behind, and me right in the middle, no car door. Ridiculous. Same with ordering food at a Sonic -- NOT leaning through a car window to order is just weird, and when the girl on the rollerskates shows up, she has nothing to pass your food through. And I also feel safer in towns -- every once in a while I find myself in a sketchy neighborhood, and I just casually lean over . . . and press the lock down with my elbow.”
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| A hiker suffering the indignity of no car door in town. |
For those interested in a car door, you can find them in the desert attached to cars in places that seem impossible for a car to have ended up.
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| Seriously. How the hell did this get here? |
And for those still concerned about the weight, Lint offers the following advice:
“First, don’t think about the weight of the door. Think about the weight of all of the things you don’t have to carry when you’re carrying the door. DEET, bear spray, a bear canister, wind protection, rain gear, heck, my window is tinted -- I don’t even need sunglasses. Second, try to keep in mind that everything is relative, and I can tell you from experience that it’s a whole lot lighter than carrying the entire car.”
Photo Credits --
Lint's Legs: Warner Springs Monty Tam
Lint w/Door: Chase Nelson
Lint w/Car: Ryan Weidert
With special thanks to Lint Hikes and Pea Hicks!
Friday, November 1, 2013
Monday, October 21, 2013
The Power Of Cheese
I’m reasonably confident that this will be the best blog article I’ll ever write. Because it’s about cheese, and cheese brings out the best in everything. And even if it’s only 10% as good as cheese, it’ll be pretty close to perfect.
But before we get to the actual article, I think that we should take a look at some of the things I’ve previously written about what I have referred to as “my possibly illegal love of cheese”:
CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE!!!!!!!!!!!
I loves me some cheese. Largest block you can carry out of town without causing stress fractures, say I.
Bigger lasts longer! Harder is better!
Cheese does not go bad!
Melty/Oily? Recombines at night!
Moldy oldy? Cut that part off and keep chomping!
One Pound blocks! Eaten like candy bars!
Bonus feature: no poopin' 'til the next time you hit town. . .
Cheese, baby! Sounds gouda to me!
I have yet to meet a cheese I haven't liked immediately; with which I haven’t struck up a long, meaningful conversation and developed a deep, abiding relationship.
Cow, goat, sheep, cat, out of a can, on a nacho, with my breakfast, between my toes, on pasta, on stuffing, on Donner, on Blitzen!
With cheese!
Con queso!
Avec frommage!
Ag tigh cais!
The only reason to cut cheese with a knife is if you're sharing it with someone, which is what I was thinking of in my post regarding what one needs a knife for. Unless you want to do a whole Lady and the Tramp thing, but with a big block of Sharp Vermont Cheddar. My god that's romantic.
Combine cheese with everything. Anything. I can't stress it enough. CHEESE.
And don't just limit yourself to "flavoring food" with it. Flavor everything with it. Flavor your joys and sorrows with it. Flavor your Flav with it. Flavor your life with it!
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| The author at the Cheese Monument. |
I live in a world of cheese, all of it there for the taking. Cheese hanging from the trees, cheese raining from the sky. A world where cheese is an accepted form of currency, an appetizer, a meal, a way of life, an acceptable thing to wear to a formal occasion. Where you can love cheese as you wish, and it doesn't accuse you of being codependent.
A world of possibilities, all of them shot through with cheese.
I have done my hajj to Vermont. I have bowed before an alter of delicious sharp cheddar, and then eaten it. I didn't have to go to the bathroom for four days.
Award winning?
Soul winning!
I have been to the monument to cheese along the AT in Cheshire! I have leaned against it, filled with thoughts of cheese! I have gone to the post office across the street, taken a picture, and been drawn magnetically back to "the Big Cheese Monument." Intending to stay in town for a moment, I stayed for what felt a lifetime.
Then I went to the convenience store on the way out of town, and bought some cheese.
Okay. We’ve set the mood. Now on to the actual article! But first, some historical facts about cheese that I will make up off the top of my head. Did you know that:
The word “grieve” comes from Greve, a Swedish cheese made from cow’s milk? (it’s current meaning obviously referring to the sadness of not having any)
John Lennon originally wrote a song called “Happiness Is A Warm Gruyere” about Fondue, but changed it due to rhythmic and meter issues? And the fact that Gruyere is a terrible cheese to use for fondue?
The seemingly endless wars between Britain and France in the 18th and 19th centuries were motivated primarily by the English desire for French cheeses? And that the blue of the Napoleonic Army uniforms was meant to mock the quality of English cheeses such as Cheshire Blue, Devon Blue, and Yorkshire Blue?
I have to say that at this point I feel like I’m never going to get to the actual article. I mean, this thing is already getting long, isn’t it? And looking at what's been written so far it isn't readily apparent that this is supposed to be a backpacking blog. So I think that before getting to the actual article I’d like to write for a bit about the history of cheeses along the Appalachian Trail, and in particular the 90s -- arguably the high point of backpacking with cheese.
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| A hiker resupplying at "Cheese Row" in Dalton, Mass. |
Believe it or not, there are people today who don’t carry cheese while hiking (I know, I know -- It makes no sense whatsoever).
Not so the 90s!
The average hiker of the time carried between four to five pounds of cheese when leaving town -- a weight that today is equal to many people’s big three. And this love of cheese was fueled by the high quality fromageries of the trail towns. Who can forget “Edam And Weep” in Duncannon? “Limburger King” in Damascus? Or possible the greatest cheese shop of the era -- “Live Brie Or Die” in Hanover? This was a time of cheese-fueled hiking, a time before Baltimore Colby Jack shortened his trail name. Sadly, this high-flying cheesy, lactose care-freesy era came to a close, with only the blue blaze trail to the Cheese Factory (between Tray Mt. & Indian Grave Gap in Georgia) and the walk past the Cheshire Mammoth Cheese monument in Massachusetts to remind us all of a better, cheese-filled time.
But an interest in cheese persists -- as you can imagine it would pretty much have to. Because cheese will not be denied, and cheese will never surrender. Even now, hiking forums are filled with questions about the longevity of cheese on the trail, and I think that this must at long last be the focus of this blog article, an article that I think we all have to admit is all over the place and not my best effort.
I feel like I am failing cheese. But I must cheese press on. Cheese would want me to.
The Longevity Of Cheese On The Trail
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| Lactose-tolerant hikers enjoying a breakfast of ice cream with cheese. |
So once we accept the fact that the cheese will not last longer than its trail life, the questions you really want to ask become, “how much, which cheeses, and in what order?”
I see where you’re going with those questions, so I'll continue the thought. You're going to want to bring a lot of cheese with you. I mean A LOT. Studies have shown that while lack of sunlight will eventually drive you insane, lack of cheese will make you incredibly unhappy, to the point that you will drive everyone else insane.
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| The two essentials for a successful thru-hike. |
But you've got to get on a schedule. Say you're going out for a week. You want seven days worth of cheese, but not the SAME cheese. You want at least seven different kinds of cheese, and you want to eat them in ascending order of hardness.
So maybe you bring a huge thing of crumbly feta with you for a salad topping on day one, with maybe some goat cheese for lunch. Then you move on to your mozzarella ball on day two. A really big mozzarella ball, and you eat the whole thing by itself, like you're eating a snowball.
You get the point, so I won't belabor it. You end up on the last couple of days with some extra sharp Vermont cheddar and then a block of parm. I do recommend also carrying a can of grated parm to put on top of every other meal you eat, as well as to add to coffee and tea.
The cheese will last, as long as you eat it in the right order! You'll hike like you have wings! You'll stay toasty warm at night! You won't poop the whole time you're out there!
Good luck, and enjoy the cheese!
My god, I got a little amped up there at the end, didn’t I? Hard not to do when writing about cheese, though. I’m going to go lie down for a moment.
I’m back. Now that I’ve calmed down a bit I’m looking back through this article and I realize that the whole thing is a mess. All sorts of tenses, multiple perspectives, no coherent arc or pattern. I mean, how did John Lennon get in there?
Have I failed cheese? I think perhaps I have. But the brilliant thing about cheese is that it loves us all unconditionally, with the exception of the lactose-intolerant. Cheese forgives me and I know that cheese will give me a second and even third chance, which is more than I can say for hypothermia or my ex-girlfriend.
So I retire now from this piece, knowing that although it is awful, I will try again. And write the greatest trail-related cheese article ever written by man. Or cheese.
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