Stats N’at

‘Tis the evening of Saturday, April 24th, as I lay keeping warm in my sleeping bag for the 23rd consecutive hour, taking my very 1st “zero” day held captive in my tent due to inclement-to-the-point-of-unsafe weather conditions, I bring to you...the facts. My crunched numbers. My truths. My stats. N’at. 

Up until today, “zeroes” have been rewards. Time off-trail, in town, filled with libations, running water and rest. Fuel. Normalcy. I have taken 5 of them, excluding today. That’s an average of 1 per week, as I have been on the trail for 5 weeks and 2 days. 

I have lived in the mountains and out of a backpack for 37 days. 

Of these 37 days, I have slept indoors 13 times. “Indoors” defined as sleeping on either a cot, bunk, or bed housed in a hostel, motel, or inn with running water but most often without a private bath. 

I have slept in a lean to 4 times. A lean to is a 3-walled wooden stage-like structure with a roof. There, I sleep atop my inflatable sleeping pad and cocooned in my sleeping bag. This option saves you from the set-up of your tent and potentially the rain (if the wind isn’t carrying it into the shelter), but it excludes you from any type of privacy, warmth, or protection from all things 4-legged. 

I have set-up, slept in, and taken down my tent 20 times. 

I have walked 294.5 miles. Add an extra 50-ish miles for water retrieval, hiking off-trail to an appropriate campsite, and transportation when in town. 

I have 1,896 more miles to go. 

Mt. Katahdin, the northern most terminus of the Appalachian Trail, and my endpoint, will close on October 15th as it does every year due to its highly dangerous and icy hiking conditions as winter sets in. This is the clock that I am working against.

That is 174 days from now. 

If I take not ONE day off from now until then, I would need to walk 10.8 miles each day to make it on time.

Thus far, my average is 8.1 miles per day. 

This won’t cut it and is also unrealistic to walk for 174 consecutive days. 

Deep breaths. Don’t get your panties in a bundle. Mine aren’t. 

I’m not worried nor anxious about my timeline. My 8.1 mile average thus far is a compilation of uber light 6 mile days as I was conditioning to Georgia’s mountains, zero days, and also very powerful 15 mile days. My body is getting stronger, my routines becoming instinctive, and the upcoming 544 miles of Virginia’s peaks less aggressive. 

My plan to ease into the bigger miles has paid in dividends as it has prevented injury. 

That said, it’s time to step it up. 

They say that the last one to finish wins, for they get to stay out here the longest. 

I’ve hitchhiked 6 times (close your ears Beaman!). 

Suffered from only 1 blister (Altra Lone Peaks, raise UP!).

I’ve just ordered my 2nd pair of trail runners (you rock, Tim!). Toes are beginning to peek through numero uno. 

I have cried 1 time, and those emotions were captured on the video that I shared with you detailing my call to Katie as I crossed into North Carolina in the fog. 

I have 1 or 2 boils left in my 4th 3.5oz. can of fuel, boiling twice per day, once for coffee and once for dinner. 

I clean my cook pot by scraping the bottom of it with the butt end of my travel-sized tube of toothpaste. 

I’m on my 4th roll of toilet paper. 

I’ve only used a privy (a glorified wooden outhouse) 2 times. I completely despise them. I feel as if I’m inhaling unfiltered mesothelioma and contracting a sexually transmitted disease by even stepping inside of one, let alone disrobing. I prefer to dig a cat-hole to do my business. A hole, dug 6 inches in depth, with the help of a trowel (a lightweight camping shovel). Mine is named “The Deuce”, comes in at a hiker-friendly 0.97oz. and hangs from the bottom right of my pack, dangling by a carabiner. 

I have used a razor 3 times.

I’ve popped Advil 35 out of 37 days. 

I have received 6 mail drops, packages sent from home containing items that I’m unable to acquire when I resupply in town or simply comforts of home...KWP’s signature oatmeal mix, contact lenses, cookies from Mom, Piraats from Inserra. I am so incredibly humbled by those of you who are eager to do the same! My excitement rivals that of a youngster on Christmas morning as I tear open the boxes with its unknown contents. It takes collaboration to orchestrate such a thing...where will I be and when? What address? Hours of post-office operation? What am I need of? As difficult as it is for me to ask for things, if you’ve offered, I’ll be calling upon you. And remember- bananas, IPAs, macaroni salad and bearded men top my list. 

I sleep 10 hours per night, on average. 

I drink 4 liters of water per day. 

I began my trek carrying (2) 1 liter Smartwater bottles for my “clean” (filtered) water, each weighing 1.2oz. when empty. In Hiawassee, I swapped one of them out for a Nalgene bottle, also with a 1 liter capacity but weighing in at 6.2oz. I did this for 3 reasons. It triples as a foam roller, a hot water bladder to throw into the foot of my sleeping bag on freezing nights, and its wide mouth can accommodate the addition of protein pouches and electrolyte tablets. Worth its added weight. 

I’ve completed 3 audiobooks: Grandma Gatewood’s walk, AWOL on the Appalachian Trail, and Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey. (Listed in the order in which I listened to them but unintentionally also in the reverse order of which I enjoyed them). 

I’ve had 3 telemedicine visits, followed by 2 prescription medications ordered (an anti-viral and an anti-fungal, the latter of which I’m still taking) all for the treatment of my Ebola fingers.

I’ve seen 2 snakes. I swear that the 2nd was going to chase me, swallow me whole. I rerouted my path through the brush, never turning my back to it. Straight stealth. 

I would guess that the median age of a thru hiker is 28 years old. Most in their early 20’s, post-college graduation or in their 60’s, post-retirement, I am in the vast minority at 40. I am also the ONLY one out here who I’ve come across that has walked away from career and home to embark on this journey, as opposed to being faced with unsolicited unemployment, etc. The irony, being that I don’t like to hike... 

I love being asked “where I go to school”. Maybe it’s the decades of Obagi skin care, the pigtails or perhaps my youthful spirit, either way- I’ll take it. 

I have not worn a stitch of make-up in 43 days. 

I have not driven a car in 40 days.

I have only spoken with my sister only 1 time since I’ve been away. A product of timing, weather and cell reception, we spoke for the first time yesterday. She is on her own internally identical, yet externally contrasted journey. She also said “heck no!” to fear when she decided to re-ignite her modeling and acting career at 50 years old after being out of the business for 25 years to raise and home-school my nieces. Her plunge mirrors my sabbatical. We’re both LIVING. Going after it. She has sent a text message to me EVERY SINGLE MORNING since I left home as SOON as she rises filled with words of encouragement, inquiries, and more emojis than I can count on my fingers and toes. Sometimes even a dancing bear or fist bump if I’m lucky. It’s the 1st thing that I see each day when reception allows. She believes in me and won’t let me stop believing in myself. As I do her. We are both beautiful beasts. 

I love you, Rachel. Keep climbing. 

Zero thru hikes will be recognized by The Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) this year. They have taken the stance that hiking the trail this year remains unsafe due to the continued threats of COVID-19 and the tendency for us to hike and shelter in groups. They have also chosen to not maintain the privies since pre-COVID times, adding to my phobia. 

Therefore, my name won’t be in the yearbook of 2,000 milers, no sanctioned tag hanging from my pack, nor my photo at their headquarters in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. I ran a canceled marathon by myself last year, unrecognition must be my thing. 

The hell with the formalities, these experiences are forever etched. They’re mine to keep. No trophy needed. 

3 people that I’ve personally hiked with have went home. 2 of them, secondary to injury (ages 23 and  28), and the 3rd because he’d “had enough” (age 58). 

There is an 18% success rate of completing a thru hike of the Appalachian Trail. 

I’ve now been laying in my tent for almost a day and a half, escaping the storm. The heavy rain continues, but the winds have died down and the lightning has passed, so I will pack up my saturated gear (which will be pounds heavier, water logged) and head out in the morning. Both my timeline and my sanity are at risk. 

This unexpected idle tent time has brought on thoughts of home. My parents. My friends. My patients. The herb garden that I won’t plant this summer. Hand washing. Jeans. My french press. Loud music. Mussels. Avocados. Sharpies. My bed pillows. Joyce’s talks. Angel’s walks. A dinner date. My watches. Hugs. Ice. 

I have to choose my thoughts. 

I have water, food, and shelter (and instant coffee).

All that I need. 

And tomorrow, I will walk. Again. 

**Addendum: I wasn’t able to publish this entry immediately after writing it secondary to a complete lack of cell reception. Since then, I’ve run out of fuel, acquired 3 more blisters, and hit the 300 mile mark! 

319.7, to be exact.

Just keeping it real.

My sister, Rachel.

Rachel and myself, pre-hike & post-shower.

Piraat 🍺, courtesy of Inserra 🙌🏼!

Check out this bad boy’s head wrapped around the back of this tree! Can snakes chase humans?? This one seemed fully capable and was about to swallow me whole.

Blaze over French Broad River

Infant honeysuckles

Sriracha sauce packed out in an empty Purell container, epic idea Pam!

Wallflower’s clothing mishap remedied with a needle and dental floss

My newfound facial Ebola

New swag for Crocs!

Took the “exposed ridgeline trail” on a bad weather day. Obviously ➡️. (KWP, Delucia, Grove…you’d agree, I’m certain!)

Howard Mountain

The gray cover over my pack is a raincover. Coupled with a compactor trash bag lining the inside of my pack, it keeps my things dry. Especially my down jacket and sleeping bag. If those get wet on cold nights, that’s a very dangerous situation. The raincover folds into a pouch the size of your fist for storage on sunny days!

Tight squeeze!

The tramily has taken on this British tense of saying my trail name… “Ello Dips!!”, I hear multiple, if not hundreds of times per day. They left me a ‘surprise’ at the 300 mile mark…

Mystic morning

The multitude of landscapes can change within yards, as you can see. It’s incredible. Mind blowing, in fact.

This individual must’ve threw their hands up at the trail’s “leave no trace” policy 📺

4th quarter and Android

Waiting for shuttle to Nature’s Inn hostel

I’ve walked 300 miles. Repeat 6 more times, and Katahdin will be in eyeshot