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.

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:

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.

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:

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.

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.

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

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.

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!

Swiss Cheese's shirt used to be white.  And that's not

a tan on Buckket's legs.

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:

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!