Pooping in the Woods

It seems like a lot of effort, but these are the rules. It's all a part of the "leave no trace" philosophy of the trail. If I could add one piece of advice, it would be this: go ahead and remove your trousers completely, or one leg at the very least, before attempting this maneuver. 

There does seem to be a double standard here, as I have noticed that other forest denizens do not follow the "leave no trace" principles in this regard. But humans have a long history of unknowingly spreading viral infections through human waste. My great grandmother nearly died as a child after contracting Typhoid Fever while growing up on the Kansas prairie. And her grandfather, a Corporal in the Union Army, survived a year in a Georgia prison camp where 13,000 Civil War soldiers died, mostly from fecal borne disease.

Mertie Chapman spent five years of her childhood at this farm in Norton County, Kansas.

Corporal Edwin Chapman was captured by Confederate troops in Mississippi in June of 1864. He survived one year in the prison camp at Andersonville, Georgia.

So, yeah. I'll follow the rules, and hope that everyone else does the same.

Bear Mauling or Murder in the City?

In a couple more weeks, I'll begin a six month journey of hiking during the day and camping in the mountains at night. Six months of living outside, hike, camp, repeat.

It doesn't matter that I'm 50; my mother still worries about me like I'm 5. She has not been a fan of this hiking idea since its inception. She is certain I'll be eaten by a bear. Moms never stop being moms!

I have done enough research to know there are plenty of hazards along the trail, but a bear mauling is not something I fear. The bears aren't interested in eating hikers. They would, however, like to have all of our food (hikers and bears share a of love of snickers bars). This is why we must hang our food in a bag way out on a tree branch.

Now, I've tried to assure my mom that I'll be safer on the trail than I'd be if I stayed here in the city, adding that we've already had our 33rd homicide of the year. Well, she's never been crazy about me living in the city either. Probably shouldn't have shared that stat with her. Now she's sure I'll be murdered in the city, and she thinks I should just move back to Kentucky.

I feel pretty safe in my neighborhood, just like I'll feel pretty safe on the trail, as long as a few precautionary measures are taken. But it made me think about this song, a personal favorite, which is now firmly embedded in my brain...



"...always remember, there is nothing worth sharing, like the love that let us share our name."

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

One of the perks of living on the trail is that personal hygiene takes a back seat to things like finding food and water, where to camp, and pretty much everything else. Other than brushing the teeth before you start your daily hike, there is no primping on a normal day. So.... no more shaving!

In preparing for my adventure, I stopped shaving about a month ago. I never had a real beard, and it's kind of alarming. In the battle between salt and pepper, salt seems to be kicking pepper's ass! 

But as it turns out, I come from a long line of facial hair. Here are some of my favorites.

Lampson Keirns (1821-1885), my great great great grandfather, with the big bushy 'stache.

William Semer / Ziemer, my great great great grandfather, born 1843 in Berks Co., Pennsylvania. This is the look I'm going for!

Andrew Voorhies (1836-1896), my great great great grandfather, with the Vandyke style (he was Dutch, of course).

Richard Hezekiah Jeanette (1857-1945), my great great grandfather from Tennessee.

John Thomas Russell, Jr (1836-1922), my great great grandfather, from one of the earliest families of Key West, Florida.

Homer Chapman (1871-1941), my great great grandfather, always had the sweet 'stache working.

Jefferson Flack (1836-1913), my great great great grandfather, looks like how I'll feel in a few months.

As I walk, I will honor these great pioneers, and all my other ancestors, many of whom traveled great distances on foot and worked hard to settle new lands to make things better for future generations.  Without them, I would not be here to have the opportunity to embark on this great adventure!

Maryland Section Hike: I-70 to Raven Rock

The Appalachian Trail passes through 14 states. Before leaving for Georgia next month, I plan to have Maryland knocked out. That way, I can take a break from the trail in a few months to come home and check on my house, do some yard work, and maybe take in an Orioles game, before jumping back on the trail at the Mason-Dixon Line. To test all the new gear I've been acquiring, I'm doing some "section hikes" through the 41 miles of the A.T. that meander along the ridge of South Mountain from the Potomac River at Harper's Ferry north through Maryland.

It's always a good idea to leave an itinerary behind...

I taped my itinerary to the fridge. While I was away, my neighbor found a sharpie and added some commentary, most of which was spot on... Very funny, Eric!

After the second "polar vortex" of the season, and another bout with cabin fever, the weather forecast for the last weekend of January called for temps climbing into the 50's. So off to the mountains I went! The plan? Start from the I-70 trail head at Route 40 on Friday morning, hike 14 miles, and camp at Raven Rock Shelter. Wake up early Saturday, hike 5 miles to the Pennsylvania state line, and then 10 more miles back southbound to Ensign Cowell Shelter. On Sunday, hike nine miles back to the car and drive home in time for the Superbowl. 38 miles in three days? Maybe a little bit aggressive.

I was surprised to find a lot of snow on the mountain from the prior week's storm. Instead of bailing out, I decided it would be good practice to hike in cold and snowy conditions. Probably not my smartest decision, but most good stories actually arise from bad decisions.

Hiking in the snow makes for some slow going. What the F was I thinking? Fortunately, I was testing out a pair of Leki Corklite trekking poles for the first time, and I'm not sure it would have been possible to safely navigate some of the slippery slopes without them. I made it nine miles to Ensign Cowell shelter, five miles short of my day one goal. But with only a couple hours of daylight remaining, and rapidly dropping temps, I decided to stay put.

The next challenge would be finding dry wood to get a fire started.  My feet were wet (trail runner shoes), and they were getting cold once the hiking stopped.  Luckily, I got a fire going and dried out my socks and shoes.  And I had an extra pair of wool socks in my backpack... good call! After a couple hours of stoking the fire, watching the stars, and ripping off a few songs on the uke, I called it a night.  It might have been only 8pm, who knows?

I boiled two pots of snow, one for cooking a pasta dish and hot chocolate, and the other to fill a hot water bottle for the foot of my sleeping bag. Trail runner shoes, like these from The North Face, are maybe not the greatest for hiking in snow, but many hikers prefer them because they dry quickly.

This was my first night ever sleeping in a shelter rather than a tent. Pitching a tent on top of snow just seemed silly. But the shelter is basically just a roof and does nothing to keep the cold out. My sleeping bag is rated to 20 degrees Fahrenheit. On this night, it would be tested, as the temps on the mountain dipped to 22 degrees. I wore a microfleece wrap and my winter hat while in my sack, and I stayed warm and cozy, except for my nose and one cheek. The sleeping bag with body heat can serve as a makeshift dryer; put damp socks, gloves, and any other articles in there, and they'll be dry and warm in the morning time!

Sleeping outside in the dead of winter sucks, unless of course you have a Kelty Ignite 20 DriDown sleeping bag and a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir X Therm sleeping pad!

After a delicious breakfast of hot chocolate and some trail mix, and warding off those thoughts of heading back south to my car, I began day two of my weekend adventure. The revised plan? Push northward to the Raven Rock Shelter for lunch, and then decide what to do from there. I stopped along the way to get some water out of a spring. After an hour or so, I met a southbound thru-hiker known as "ManCub." He is hiking from Canada/Vermont to his home state of Georgia during the coldest winter in anyone's memory. Crazy kid. But he has a pretty cool blog that I checked out, called Walk Outside. I hope to run into him again later on in Georgia or North Carolina.

I arrived at the Raven Rock shelter for lunch and fired up some oatmeal with sunflower kernels and dried cranberries. I talked to a trail volunteer named Chris, who was checking on some damage where somebody charred the three year old shelter's floor with what appeared to be a spilled alcohol-burning stove. I also chatted with Ben, who was trail name "Stretch" during his thru-hike a dozen or so years ago, now just out for a nice Saturday afternoon on the mountain away from the family. It got to be after 2pm, and I was still five miles south of the state line. With nowhere to camp up there, and a solid five hour hike there and back, and with the highest point on the A.T. in Maryland in between, I decided to head back south, saving that northernmost section for another day. I would spend a second night in the Ensign Cowell shelter and then have plenty of time to get to my car and home for Superbowl.

It was during the hike back to the shelter that I realized that (1) I was already starving just 90 minutes after lunch (hiking burns lots and lots of calories!), and (2) the backpack I was using, on loan from my neighbor (thanks Craig!), did not fit me properly, was too heavy, and was causing muscle aches in my shoulders. I had to stop every 45 minutes or so to stretch and readjust. Yep, I would have to pony up for a new pack soon. Cha-ching!

Arriving at the shelter just before dark, I chatted with its only occupant, a Navy guy named Matt from California, now living in Severna Park, Maryland. I fixed some mashed potatoes with tuna, and crawled into my sack, feeling cold and exhausted. Matt had hung a hammock, and he did the same. It was lights out at 7:30 pm. So goes the life of a thru-hiker, and now we see why 9pm is known as "hiker's midnight."

Matt and I had both parked at the Route 40 trail head, so we hiked the nine miles back toward our cars on Sunday. The warm weather that had been promised finally arrived, and the snow on the trail turned into a muddy slop. Still, we were making pretty good time, so we made a brief lunch stop at Annapolis Rocks to enjoy the views. Matt wanted to stay another night at the Pine Knob shelter near I-70. The forecast was calling for rain that night changing to snow, maybe five inches, and he wanted to camp in the storm. This did not interest me nearly as much as drinking beer and watching football from my couch. But I stopped to check out the shelter, where we met Earl, the volunteer caretaker of the shelter who does a great job. We thanked Earl for keeping things nice for hikers, and then we all parted ways.

Now, I had been eating granola bars all day, but I had on my mind that McDonald's in Myersville right before the interstate. Hiker food just does not satisfy hiker appetite, so I pulled into the drive-thru and plowed through three McDoubles and a large Coke in no time. Then it was back to Baltimore, with plenty of time to spare before kickoff!

Annapolis Rocks on Superbowl Sunday, with a brand new set of Leki Corklite trekking poles.

"Selfie" Sketch

My hike will be old school. There will be no electronics or gadgets, except my phone, which will be turned on once in a while to check for important messages. So for entertainment, I'm taking a ukulele (thanks Scott!) and a journal book and pencils to chronicle my adventures and to doodle in. Here's my "selfie" sketch. Trying to figure out how to draw a bear next!

Preparing for a 2,185 mile hike...

Last summer, I somehow got the idea in my head to hike the Appalachian Trail, all 2,185 miles of it, from the North Georgia mountains to Maine. I'm not quite sure how or why this thought came to me. Since then, I have gone on a number of "practice hikes," once a week or so, in all kinds of weather, usually between 8 and 14 miles, just to see if this would be physically possible.

This is a video created from footage of a day hike at Gambrill State Park just west of Frederick, Maryland. A passion for nature and the outdoors seems to be one of the driving forces leading me to want to live outside in the wilderness for about six months beginning sometime in March.

Shelter on the Appalachian Trail

With the incredible amount of energy expended while hiking up and down mountains for ten or twenty miles a day with thirty pounds on one’s back, a good night’s sleep is very important for a successful long-distance backpacking adventure. Hikers on the Appalachian Trail have a number of options for overnight accommodations, with varying levels of cost and comfort. The decision on where to stay is based on a number of factors, including budget, convenience, weather forecasts, resupply requirements, laundry concerns, and medical situations, just to name a few.

Most nights are spent in or near one of the free shelters built every ten to fifteen miles along the trail. These are somewhat rough, cabin-like structures built by the various volunteer groups who maintain sections of the trail. Some shelters are newer and nicer than others, but a typical shelter has three walls and a roof and can accommodate anywhere from four to twelve hikers on a “first come” basis. Savvy hikers will be prepared with a supply of ear plugs to guard against chatty shelter mates and heavy snorers. One of a hiker’s greatest adjustments is to get comfortable sleeping shoulder to shoulder alongside people who you perhaps just met and who also haven’t bathed in a number of days or even weeks.

I spent a couple very cold nights in this Maryland shelter recently during a 28-mile Superbowl weekend hike through the snow.  There are six very well maintained shelters along the 41-mile Maryland section of the trail.

Each shelter has a privy nearby, where one can take care of business without having to dig a hole in the woods.

In the Great Smokey Mountains National Park and in a few other areas, hikers are required to use the shelter houses, as opposed to pitching a tent and possibly disturbing the land, unless the shelter is full. But either by choice or necessity, hikers will spend many nights in a small and lightweight backpacking tent, usually designed to sleep just one person. Tent pads are laid out near the shelter houses, so campers can still enjoy the comradery and benefits the shelter offers, such use of the campfire, picnic table, and the “privy,” while having some of the privacy lacking in the group sleeping arrangement of the shelter house. The downside of tent camping is the time and energy required to set up camp after a long day of hiking, and the breakdown of the camp the following morning.   Gaining in popularity, hammock camping is a sleeping system strung between two trees and covered by a tarp hung over a guideline, which provides the hiker with the flexibility of camping almost anywhere even when there is no flat and smooth surface.

For my trip, I have invested in the Hubba 1, a one-man tent made by MSR. It weighs a little over three pounds, including the mesh enclosure with waterproof basin, rain fly that covers the mesh compartment, six aluminum stakes, and an aluminum pole assembly inter-connected by an elastic band. It takes less the five minutes to set up and break down. It has just enough room inside for my sleeping pad and sleeping bag, with a bit of space at the foot and head for storage, and more space outside the zipped area under the rain fly for storage of muddy shoes and the like. It’s tight, but cozy.

"Home, sweet home?"

Most thru-hikers on the A.T. find it necessary to come out of the woods once in a while to sleep in an actual bed and rediscover modern conveniences. Some residents of the trail towns have converted their homes into hostels. For a nominal fee, usually between fifteen and thirty dollars a night, hikers can get a ride into town, a shower, dinner, access to computer and internet, a bed or cot, laundry, breakfast, transportation to the store for resupply, and a ride back to the trail head. Hostel owners are said to be some of the friendliest and most helpful people hikers will meet during their adventure, and many hostel operators were also thru-hikers at one time.

The most expensive option is a motel room. To minimize costs, hikers will often share the expenses of a room between three or four people. Inn operators in the towns near the trail understand the needs of the hikers, who comprise a significant amount of their business during the hiking season. So a room full of gear strung out to dry, tents, sleeping bags, muddy shoes, etc., is to be expected. After getting situated and showered, a group of famished hikers will typically find a place where they can binge on huge amounts of food at reasonable prices, with pizza and all-you-can-eat buffets being the top choices.

Shelters and hostels are the places where friendships are forged and trail families are created. A northbound A.T. thru-hiker becomes part of what is known as a “hiker bubble,” the dozens of adventurers who depart from Springer Mountain, Georgia within a few days before or after one another. Familiar faces, most becoming scruffier and more drawn along the way, will surface from time to time as hikers “leapfrog” one another over the weeks and months onward to Maine.

After surviving a rainy night in mid-January on this ridge above the Rocky Run shelter, I decided to build a fire and stay a second night.