Well, I'm off folks.
Send me voicemails to say hi, or check up on me here at this blog.
See you soon!
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
What is it inside of us that drives us to leave behind comfort and certainty of beloved people and places to strike out into the unknown? What vestige of the primal urge to explore still clings to existence within our psyches, steering us constantly away from complacency?
I'm not trying to aggrandize the "adventure" level of what I'm going to try to do starting in a few days. No, I have no delusions about that. The vast majority of the Appalachian Trail falls within just a few short miles of civilization, a few hours or days walk away from parking lots and strip malls and traffic jams. Statistically, I am certain that every mile of the AT is safer than the miles of road we drive up and down to every day while going about our mundane business.
No, it is not some inherent risk that lends the Trail (and any expedition) its sense of adventure, it is the sheer difference in lifestyle that it promises. Many people I have talked about my plans with are surprised at the ambition of such a shift. They think it's bold or crazy to spend six months living in the woods. On the other hand, I put this trip into the same category of the many little adventures we embark on in our lives, from new jobs to new towns to new schools: it is a step out of the comfort zone.
This point resonated strongly with me tonight, as I said some very hard goodbyes to my best friend Jared and his family, a group of people that have been a surrogate family for me for over thirteen years. As anyone who knows Jared and I would expect, we did not celebrate the parting in anything but our traditional way: we sat around goofing off to Star Wars and a Red Sox game. As we split ways, I couldn't help but think of what I am going to miss this summer. Countless days spent in Tobin's pool, and evenings spent with good friends at Jared's house watching the Sox and discussing the magical annual politics of baseball with Mr. Stevenson and the guys. These are some of the most important and excellent people I know, and I can think of few ways I would rather spend a day.
Still, there is something uncanny and captivating about the allure of the Trail. Even as I regret missing out on any opportunity to spend time with my friends and family, I am overcome with excitement for the unknown and unexpected to come.
To this day, I cannot quite say why I am leaving all of this behind me to go on this kind of trip.
With any luck, I'll be able to answer that question soon
I'm not trying to aggrandize the "adventure" level of what I'm going to try to do starting in a few days. No, I have no delusions about that. The vast majority of the Appalachian Trail falls within just a few short miles of civilization, a few hours or days walk away from parking lots and strip malls and traffic jams. Statistically, I am certain that every mile of the AT is safer than the miles of road we drive up and down to every day while going about our mundane business.
No, it is not some inherent risk that lends the Trail (and any expedition) its sense of adventure, it is the sheer difference in lifestyle that it promises. Many people I have talked about my plans with are surprised at the ambition of such a shift. They think it's bold or crazy to spend six months living in the woods. On the other hand, I put this trip into the same category of the many little adventures we embark on in our lives, from new jobs to new towns to new schools: it is a step out of the comfort zone.
This point resonated strongly with me tonight, as I said some very hard goodbyes to my best friend Jared and his family, a group of people that have been a surrogate family for me for over thirteen years. As anyone who knows Jared and I would expect, we did not celebrate the parting in anything but our traditional way: we sat around goofing off to Star Wars and a Red Sox game. As we split ways, I couldn't help but think of what I am going to miss this summer. Countless days spent in Tobin's pool, and evenings spent with good friends at Jared's house watching the Sox and discussing the magical annual politics of baseball with Mr. Stevenson and the guys. These are some of the most important and excellent people I know, and I can think of few ways I would rather spend a day.
Still, there is something uncanny and captivating about the allure of the Trail. Even as I regret missing out on any opportunity to spend time with my friends and family, I am overcome with excitement for the unknown and unexpected to come.
To this day, I cannot quite say why I am leaving all of this behind me to go on this kind of trip.
With any luck, I'll be able to answer that question soon
Saturday, March 24, 2007
One Week
There's no denying it... Georgia is just around the corner now! Tomorrow I am hanging sheetrock for the first half of the day, then skedaddling to Boston to see my buddy Tobin perform the hell out of Beantown as Tony in West Side Story. After the commensurate merrymaking, it's back home, and SIX DAYS to get myself all squared away, and PSYCHED for the actual trip.
It seems like just moments ago that I was commemorating the one year mark: Just 365 days until my thru-hike began. Now, 358 of those days have fallen off the calender, and here I am, in the same chair, just one week away from the great unknown.
My excitement has been pretty much at odds with apprehension for the past week or so... I have prepared myself as thoroughly as I think I can, and now find myself worrying about the unpredictable nature of the trip. How will I react to (semi) solitude in the woods? Will my food and provisioning arrangements work out? Will all my gear hold up? Will my legs and knees and back stand up to my heavy load?
Just as these worries were piling up on me this evening, I stumbled upon a picture of two happy hikers standing under the stone arch that marks the beginning of the Springer Mountain Appalachian Trail Approach - "Springer Mountain: 8.5 miles," the sign reads, "Mount Katahdin, Maine: 2185 miles"
Looking at that picture, I realized that it would be me walking under that arch in just a few days time. I would be walking up that verdant mountain path into the great swath of forest, that thin green line that winds its way from north to south. A tiny sliver of the grandeur that used to comprise our entire nation, the untamed beauty that Fitzgerald said was the only thing on earth "commensurate with [our] capacity for wonder"...
This thought has pretty much silenced the nagging voice of concern in my head, and replaced it with pure and intense excitement. Whatever is out there waiting for me, I will deal with when I reach it. As my friend and roommate Dan Hart says: I can burn that bridge when I get there.
UNRELATED BUT IMPORTANT:
Last week, my mom took me into UCONN to introduce me to a friend of hers, a ridiculously energetic and informative nutrition expert named Amy. To be honest, I was not quite sure what I would ask Amy about this important element of my hike (I am a skinny guy to start, I can't afford to drop 15 pounds on this walk!). Luckily for me, she came incredibly well prepared, and with a lot of first hand experience in both endurance athletics and nutrition. I walked out with a clipboard full of information and a newfound confidence that I won't waste away and perish from malnutrition.
This is just another example of how so many people, from old friends and family members to practical strangers, have been ridiculously helpful in helping me towards my goal.
Sleep now. Coming up, it's sheetrock, then Boston, then some more sheetrock, EMS one more time, then Georgia...
It seems like just moments ago that I was commemorating the one year mark: Just 365 days until my thru-hike began. Now, 358 of those days have fallen off the calender, and here I am, in the same chair, just one week away from the great unknown.
My excitement has been pretty much at odds with apprehension for the past week or so... I have prepared myself as thoroughly as I think I can, and now find myself worrying about the unpredictable nature of the trip. How will I react to (semi) solitude in the woods? Will my food and provisioning arrangements work out? Will all my gear hold up? Will my legs and knees and back stand up to my heavy load?
Just as these worries were piling up on me this evening, I stumbled upon a picture of two happy hikers standing under the stone arch that marks the beginning of the Springer Mountain Appalachian Trail Approach - "Springer Mountain: 8.5 miles," the sign reads, "Mount Katahdin, Maine: 2185 miles"
Looking at that picture, I realized that it would be me walking under that arch in just a few days time. I would be walking up that verdant mountain path into the great swath of forest, that thin green line that winds its way from north to south. A tiny sliver of the grandeur that used to comprise our entire nation, the untamed beauty that Fitzgerald said was the only thing on earth "commensurate with [our] capacity for wonder"...
This thought has pretty much silenced the nagging voice of concern in my head, and replaced it with pure and intense excitement. Whatever is out there waiting for me, I will deal with when I reach it. As my friend and roommate Dan Hart says: I can burn that bridge when I get there.
UNRELATED BUT IMPORTANT:
Last week, my mom took me into UCONN to introduce me to a friend of hers, a ridiculously energetic and informative nutrition expert named Amy. To be honest, I was not quite sure what I would ask Amy about this important element of my hike (I am a skinny guy to start, I can't afford to drop 15 pounds on this walk!). Luckily for me, she came incredibly well prepared, and with a lot of first hand experience in both endurance athletics and nutrition. I walked out with a clipboard full of information and a newfound confidence that I won't waste away and perish from malnutrition.
This is just another example of how so many people, from old friends and family members to practical strangers, have been ridiculously helpful in helping me towards my goal.
Sleep now. Coming up, it's sheetrock, then Boston, then some more sheetrock, EMS one more time, then Georgia...
Thursday, March 8, 2007
GEAR
Today was a day for GEAR. Like any red blooded American backpacker, I have a passion for outdoorsy gear, and today I got to get rid of the monkey on my back (or at least beat him into submission for a while with a trekking pole). Here's what I picked up from my Mecca (Eastern Mountain Sports in Manchester)
For posterity's sake, as long as I'm talking gear, here's the remainder of my gear list.
THREE WEEKS FROM SATURDAY
AHHHHHHHHHHH
Stay tuned.
- EMS Thunderhead nylon shell with pit zips and a rather nifty brimmed hood. Always important to keep style in mind while on the trail.
- An EMS pro-stretch middle layer microfleece that I essentially fell into romantic love with the instant I saw/touched it.
- A replacement filter for my PUR Hiker, because I have developed a taste for non-infected water.
- A coolmax sleeping bag liner to keep some of the funk out of the brand new Mountain Hardwear Lamina 15 degree synthetic mummy bag I got for half off at www.steepandcheap.com!
- Three pairs of smartwool midcalf socks
- A shiny new bottle of DWR (durable water repellant) to spray all over every flat surface I can get my hands on.
- Zipaway pants that, unlike my previous pair, "zip away" into a reasonable pair of shorts instead of hotpants.
For posterity's sake, as long as I'm talking gear, here's the remainder of my gear list.
- Camp Trails wilderness external frame pack. Approximately 2.5 million cubic inches. Not for the faint of heart.
- EMS Thunderlite II two person backpacking tent. Like the aquaducts, full of arch-ly goodness. Also like the aquaducts, carries water. Hopefully far, far away from my sleeping self.
- Asolo TPS 520 trekking boots. Some people hike the AT in light boots, or even sneakers, but I have a dangerous combination of loose ligaments in my ankles and incurable clumsiness that can lead to sprained ankles. These full shank leather boots are pretty much foot fortresses.
- A homemade, alcohol burning "penny stove" (see earlier post)
- EMS trekking poles
- Camelback UnBottle
- various other... things
THREE WEEKS FROM SATURDAY
AHHHHHHHHHHH
Stay tuned.
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