Sunday, March 17, 2013

Crossing the Line of Departure

     There must be something about laying out your thoughts in a blog that puts things in motion.  I bought plane tickets today.  The hike is still over a month away, but its the next step and needed doing.

     So there.  It's done.

     I'm kind of relieved.  This is happening.  No chicken shitting out of this one, dude.

     In the mean time, there are some loose ends to tie off before I start sectioning this thing off.

  • Step One : Finish the thesis.  Oh god.... please let me finish this paper.


  • Step Two : Food.  So far my planning on food is to seek donations from visiting bears.  I hear they like to share food.  Anyway, that might not be the most cogent plan of action.  Outside of some Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) and dehydrated meals from REI, I haven't broken the code on trail food. Any ideas would be grand.


  • Step Three : There is no step three.  I'm going to read trail journals instead.  They all should be starting up right now.  It's springtime and the hiking season is just getting into full swing.  Here are my favorites so far:
    • White Blaze, of course, has the most trail journals.  If you are thinking about starting this thing, here is the place to go to get information.
    • And then there is Dirigo Bound, a blog of two kids walking north.  I guess they aren't kids, but humor me, I'm almost into my forties.
     I do love me some trail journals.  Anyway.  Time for Step One.

Happy Trails to everyone out there putting one foot in front of the other.


Saturday, March 16, 2013

When did this start?


Why in all that is holy would someone leave hearth and home behind to walk in the god forsaken woods and live like a bum?

I mention this only because (spoiler alert) that is precisely what I've got in mind. If you are reading this, you too are also in the brain addled camp of those who look to the hills.

I’d like to say that this started at Harper's Ferry in the fall when I, quite by accident, stumbled into the ATC headquarters. We had just moved and were checking out the satellite communities in the D.C. area. My wife was shopping. I was bored. I've always liked hiking, so sure, why not. They might have a neat T-shirt of something.

They had some nice T-shirts, but nothing that I’m going to plunk down $15 dollars on. I’m cheap. Hell-a cheap. (except when it comes to a decent beer, or boots) Anyway.. not important. What is important is that that place was a triggering event.

I mean, here we are. Living near the trail…. It’s right there. It’s soooo big. The mother of all hikes.

Flashback. I think I was five, maybe younger. We’re in the Smokies on a family vacation. This would have been in the seventies. I’m chatting up some hikers. I’m not sure what trail we were on, it’s so long ago, but I think it might have been the AT. Somehow I convince my mom that I can go off hiking with these two fellows for a bit. They must have been very amiable folks, or it was a different time. I’m not sure, but what I do know is that I did go off with them. On. My. Own. I think that’s where it starts, a kid off on his own in the woods with strangers. When I think back I can remember the color of the sky and the deep loamy woods, the trees that go up forever, and the smell of mountain water hanging in the air – a distant and cleansing perfume.

It wasn't a long hike, maybe an hour or two and we linked back up with my mom. But there you go. I can’t start something and not eventually finish it. (except my master’s thesis, that stupid thing just won’t die). But the trail…. The trail.

I've been shopping. One big item a month: hammock, boots, sleeping bag, and last month a Windrider 2400 backpack. One purchase remains: a plane ticket.

My brother is meeting me in Chattanooga and my father in law is going to drop us off at Amicalola State Park. We won’t do a thru hike, my cubicle gets lonely and work won’t let me go that far, but it’ll be a start. 

I can't wait to start.