08/31/00
Day 161
Pierce Pond Lean-to
2011.9 miles

It shouldn't be too hard to catch you up from that last letter I mailed from Stratton.  I had an easy time of it getting a hitch from town back to the trailhead.  The views from along the ridge of the Bigelow range were spectacular.  I think I took more pictures on that day than on any other during the trip.

I split this section between the towns of Stratton and Caratunk into three short days, whereas most other Northbounders seem to try to do it in two.  In particular, I wanted to time it so I would stay at the West Carry Pond shelter.  The maintainer for that section of trail, Dana Thurston, is someone I know from the hiking club, MOAC, that I belong to in Portland.  He's a former thru-hiker and was an inspiration for me to attempt this.  I wanted to be able to tell him that I stayed at "his" shelter.  It was a pleasant night and I got to hear some loons calling again.  In fact, since I'm camped tonight at yet another gorgeous pond, I hope to hear them again.  I think I heard a moose bounding away from the trail this morning, but the brush was too thick for me to see it.

It's early, and it seems like I might have the opportunity here to tackle one of those BIG subjects I've sucessfully avoided so far.  This is, in fact, the big question:  "Why?"  I've tried to approach this topic several times before, but never directly.  I honestly don't believe there's a single answer to this question - there never is just one reason for me doing something.  And then there's a division between reasons why I started this trip, and reasons that have evolved as I've traveled along, and that have kept me going.  So here, because I lack the ingenuity to compose this another way, is a list of reasons why I'm hiking the AT, presented in no particular order:

1. Hiker Chicks dig guys with big calf muscles, so I'm hoping to score big-time when I get back.

2. I was ready to leave my job and hiking the AT was an afterthought.  When I returned to work at Mercy I had certain expectations about regaining my former status, seniority, and associated perks.  After 10 months, when those promises had not been met, I felt my obligation to remain there had been nullified.  I know how petty this sounds, and it is, but if they'd put me back in my old office (or its equivalent), I'd probably still be working there now instead of doing this.

3. Fear of missed opportunities.  If I wasn't going to stay at Mercy, this break between employment might be the only shot that life would offer me to take 6 months off to do the Trail while I had some money in the bank to cover expenses.

4. The "age" thing.  Admittedly, I've met plenty of guys (and a few women) who are older than me and are still out here on the Trail putting in the miles.  But at 41, I began to fear that if I waited until I reached retirement age (67?) that I would be too physically infirm to handle the hike, or too senile to remember that I wanted to do this.

5. My "last chance" to get physically fit.  While I did plenty of hiking during my trip to New Zealand the previous Spring, I seemed to go into some kind of tailspin when I got back.  That summer I went on very few hikes with my club, and rarely took out my bike or kayak.  All I seemed to want to do is sit in my recliner and watch the tube.  Projecting forward, I could see that I was passing some kind of threshold where I would continue to gain weight and get weaker until I reached the point it was just too much effort to do anything active.  Hiking the AT would be like sending my body to bootcamp - it would either whip me into shape or I'd wash out.

6. I've always wanted to hike the AT.  Well, that's sort of a crock.  I can't remember what I thought about people hiking the Trail when I was younger, but maybe I thought they were nuts.  Maybe I still think that now, but it doesn't bother me too much.  I've certainly known about the existence of the AT since I was young.  But just because there happens to be a long, continuous hiking trail, why should anyone disrupt their lives and expend so much time, effort, and expense to traverse it?  This is the hardest thing for me to put into words, but a thru-hike represents a blind dedication to an abstraction.  Would it be any less arbitrary to hike a 10-mile section of trail 217 consecutive times?  If it were a really nice bit of trail it might be more rewarding than doing the AT, which has its share of dull stretches.  What I end up with on this line of thought is the same lame reply you get from mountain climbers:  "Because it's there!" And maybe that's enough.

7. It's the challenge.  I think there is a certain drive, at least in some people, to test one's limits.  The Trail is certainly physically challenging, and sticking with it can be mentally challenging.  Just look at all the reasons people drop off the Trail.  Some are just too physically out of shape at the start and can't endure the daily pain and exertion to re-form their bodies into efficient hiking machines. Some simply have bad luck and develop chronic overuse injuries:  knees, feet, blisters, back ...  Others slip on a rock or root and cripple themselves.  In 5 million steps there are plenty of chances to trip.  People get sick with Giardia or Lyme Disease, and by the time they get diagnosed and recover they may be too far behind to reach Katahdin in time.  Some people just hike too slow and can't sustain the daily average to finish in one season.  But the mental challenges are just as daunting.  People underestimate the demands that their family or job are going to make on them.  People underestimate the cost.  Some are totally impractical about the degree of comfort they can sacrifice, the number of days they can stand to go without a hot shower, clean laundry, or a cooked meal.  Some younger guys think of the AT as a rolling party and blow all their money in bars long before they finish the Trail.  Some people find the rewards they expected aren't there, or aren't enough.  All it takes is a few days of being cold and wet to convince someone this life isn't for them.  Hiking the AT can be a grind.  It's a job that requires long hours every day with very little time off.  There are bright, exceptional moments of beauty along the way, but a lot of it becomes the same-old same-old, and your attention tends to withdraw inward.  It requires an obsession with achieving a very far-off goal.

8. The "No Regrets Tour - 2000".  At one point prior to the hike, in my mind I pictured myself on my deathbed.  I thought about all the actions and inactions in my life so far that I was going to be ashamed of, that I was going to long to have done differently.  Hiking the AT seemed like a possibly attainable goal.  It wouldn't happen unless I made it happen.  But once I had completed it, I could look back on it with pride.  It would be one less thing that I wished I had done.

9. Bragging rights.  This certainly wasn't on my mind when I started.  In fact, I thought for awhile that I'd tell as few people as possible what I was doing, to save embarassment later if I failed, but this proved impractical.  I never imagined I'd be sending out email updates to a list of 25 people and having my writings posted on 2 different websites.  At first I didn't like the attention because I didn't want to let people down if I didn't finish.  And I didn't like the feeling of pressure from that, as I felt my drive had to come from within.  But I guess I've gotten used to accepting a bit of admiration, and the fact that others are vicariously living this with me.  But has it gone to my head?  Do I expect the members of my hiking club to treat me differently when I return?  I'm often bemused when I meet people who have thru-hiked and they HAVE to work that fact into the conversation as though to establish their credentials as an equal.  And yet, I recently hiked with a fellow for several days, and only found out from someone else that this was his third time hiking the AT.  He said he prefered to keep it private because people sometimes treated him differently when they found out.  Is it admirable to hike the Trail once, but compulsive to repeat it?  Hiking the AT does put you in an exclusive little club.  The dues are high and membership is limited.  I'll be proud to earn that "2000 miler" patch, but I plan to sew it on my pack, not wear it on my sleeve.

10. It's fun!  Well, God, I should hope so.  When I'm not actually in pain (usually this occurs for a 3-minute period sometime mid-morning) the feeling of walking is exhilerating.  Making jokes and talking with fellow thru-hikers is enjoyable.  Eating, the flavors of food and the act of stuffing it down one's gullet, brings spasms of pleasure.  The minor deprivations of trail life make all the modern conveniences of civilization magical and new.  It's exciting to see new animals, plants, trees along the Trail.  Obviously the difference between hiking in the woods and doing endless laps in a pool is that you enjoy nature, the beauty and variety of living things.

11. King of the Hill.  I like a good view.  I've met people out here who could care less about the scenery.  People hike this Trail for a lot of reasons different from mine.  For some it's an athletic challenge.  They want to push themselves constantly to the limit of their endurance.  The AT to them is just a long obstacle course or race track.  It's hard not to get sucked into that competitive mode.  When people keep passing you day-after-day, you start to wonder if you shouldn't be hiking faster, longer to catch up.  I met 2 girls hiking Southbound who were doing the Trail barefoot!  There's that urge to not just hike the AT, but to set some new record in doing it.  To distinguish yourself over and above the other people completing the Trail.  But me, I like a nice view.  There's something about looking down on things from on high that I enjoy.  Rich people certainly crave it - they always live up high on a hill.  When I get in a big city my first impulse is to ride an elevator to the top of the tallest building and scope the place out.  It gives me a certain feeling of smug superiority to see the surrounding landscape and know that the people living in it are limited to their immediate surroundings while I can see the big picture.  I had to work hard to gain that mountain vantage point, so I deserve a moment of pretense that I am Lord of all I survey.

12. The people.  My observation from years belonging to a hiking club is that people who enjoy nature and the outdoors tend to be a nicer class of person.  People are attracted to hike the AT for a variety of reasons.  And that makes for a wide variety of people.  It's certainly an inaccurate generalization to assume that everyone out here is a tree-hugging, hippy freak.  But it's certainly an interesting group.  And the common bond of hiking the Trail together creates an easy means to form friendships quickly and a general feeling of goodwill towards your fellow travelers.  It's been good for me to be exposed to this culture.

13. Travel broadens the mind.  I know from the past that I tend to open up a bit more when I'm traveling.  I don't buy into the idea that a trail-name is some kind of alias - a psuedo-identity you create and hide behind.  I believe that whoever and whatever you are, you carry it out here with you.  In fact, cut off from your usual surroundings, the nature of what you are and how you behave is brought into sharp focus. But self-discovery is not always pleasant.

14. Time to think.  I've met people on the Trail who said they were at a turning point in their lives and were hiking the Trail to give themselves the time to reflect upon it.  I don't know if I was at a turning point, unless I created one by quitting my job and deciding to do this.  I've had plenty of time to think, and used precious little of it.  I deliberately avoid thinking about some things - like what I'm going to do for work in a few weeks when I get back.  But I have occasionally pondered some "heavy" subjects.  War.  Religion.  The Nature of Man.  Love and Relationships.  The Purpose of Life.  Very little of these thoughts have made it into these pages. Perhaps I haven't hiked long enough.