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So I am back from two days (and twenty miles, and about two square inches of skin off my feet) on the Appalachian trail. I have now hiked 2 out of 14 states' worth, that means I'm about 14% done, right?
(More realistically, I've done 3 of the 13 ~20-mile PATC maps. Which cover PA, MD, WV, and VA. Or 9 of the 13 sections in the MD&NoVA guidebook. But still! I've hiked across two states!)
I don't know why I do the AT. I don't particularly enjoy it while I'm doing it and I'm really, really bad at it.
As trails go, the Appalachian Trail is possibly the most boring and with the worst trail conditions - 90% of the time there's nothing to see except basically the same scruffy second-growth woodlands I can see from my house; and since it generally follows ridgelines, the elevation change is unnecessarily ridiculous, water is usually at least a quarter-mile straight down, and when you combine the terrain with general overuse, the condition of the trail surface is generally horrendously eroded so you basically find your way by looking through the forest and going "which bit looks the least pleasant to walk on? Ah yes, that must be the trail." And even on a weekend with basically ideal weather, like we had, it's either too cold at night or too warm in the mornings or both, the weather is unpredictable, and there are annoying insects everywhere.
And while it's not, like, super-crowded, even now - on the busiest section of the trail on the busiest weekend of the year I could still go hours without seeing another human - if what you want is grand solitude, it's unlikely you'll go more than a few hours truly alone or totally away from active human habitation or roads.
Anyway. Yeah. If you want to go hiking I recommend literally any other trail I have ever walked on.
But somehow I keep wanting to go back anyway.
The trail culture is good - because it's such a freakin' miserable trail to walk, pretty much the only people you meet are people who want to Hike The Appalachian Trail (rather than, you know, just want to hike, because in that case you'd pick a trail that was actually nice) and, within ~5 miles of a road, locals out with their dogs, so there's a real sense of shared ownership of the AT as a cultural artifact, and of camaraderie, and a laid-back spirit.
The other thing about the AT is that logistically, it's relatively easy: all the towns and roads it crosses are used to long-distance hikers stumbling in, there are plenty of campsites and shelters and water source and resupply shops, relatively well spaced; there's enough traffic and the trail is well enough marked and maintained that you can get the backcountry feeling without the actual danger of isolation and wilderness; and there's lots of other hikers around who are happy to help and share. Plus it's easy driving distance for something like a quarter of the US population. And there really isn't any cheaper possible vacation. (You can spend a ton of money on trail gear if you want to but for most of the AT, you really don't have to.)
And long-distance backpacking in general is - physically horrendous for someone with my general lack of physical condition, but mentally relaxing, because once you're out on the trail, literally the only decision you can make is "do I keep going now, or do I take a break for food/water/rest, and then keep going later?" Because there are no other options. You can't do anything about anything off the trail until you are off it, and you can't get off the trail except by keeping going, however slowly that might be by the end of the day and however heavily you are leaning on your stick. You have one path and you have to go down it and life's exactly that simple.
That would probably drive a lot of people 'round the bend, but it works for me. (Of course, in our modern world - where we talked to thru-hikers who had been on the trail for months and been on the internet on their smartphones nearly every day - that part of the trail experience is probably whittling away, too. I had mine turned off thanks.)
And I also like... the experience of having done it? The experience of long-distance walking is sort of a foundational human experience - before cars, really, nearly everybody had done multi-day walks (or multiple all-day walks in a row) many, many times in their lives, even if they were walking beside carts or animals. It's still a basic part of life for many people all around the world. Just not people like me who live in a place where a car is basically required because walkability is limited (and walking along the roads stupidly dangerous) even if you try. I know that getting out a couple times a year to hike a trail doesn't really show me anything substantial about what a long-distance-walking life is like, but it shows me more than not doing it would.
Anyway, today I am walking with a cane because my calf muscles are celebrating Labor Day by going on strike whenever I stand up, and also I have gauze pads taped across the backs of both my ankles where every shoe I have ever hiked in (from $200 hiking boots to Crocs) has worn away the skin, and I can still feel my packstraps even when I'm not wearing them, but generally I am satisfied for at least awhile, I think. I told everyone that next hiking trip I do will be somewhere level. Maybe a barrier island. I once walked half of Fenwick Island and back in an afternoon and barely noticed I'd done it. (We crossed 82 hundred-foot contour lines on the map during that 20 mile hike, which is more elevation change than climbing Old Rag. And a lot more horizontal.)
Now I need to lever myself up and unpack properly. Analysis of this year's pack contents and their usefulness coming as soon as I've managed that.
(More realistically, I've done 3 of the 13 ~20-mile PATC maps. Which cover PA, MD, WV, and VA. Or 9 of the 13 sections in the MD&NoVA guidebook. But still! I've hiked across two states!)
I don't know why I do the AT. I don't particularly enjoy it while I'm doing it and I'm really, really bad at it.
As trails go, the Appalachian Trail is possibly the most boring and with the worst trail conditions - 90% of the time there's nothing to see except basically the same scruffy second-growth woodlands I can see from my house; and since it generally follows ridgelines, the elevation change is unnecessarily ridiculous, water is usually at least a quarter-mile straight down, and when you combine the terrain with general overuse, the condition of the trail surface is generally horrendously eroded so you basically find your way by looking through the forest and going "which bit looks the least pleasant to walk on? Ah yes, that must be the trail." And even on a weekend with basically ideal weather, like we had, it's either too cold at night or too warm in the mornings or both, the weather is unpredictable, and there are annoying insects everywhere.
And while it's not, like, super-crowded, even now - on the busiest section of the trail on the busiest weekend of the year I could still go hours without seeing another human - if what you want is grand solitude, it's unlikely you'll go more than a few hours truly alone or totally away from active human habitation or roads.
Anyway. Yeah. If you want to go hiking I recommend literally any other trail I have ever walked on.
But somehow I keep wanting to go back anyway.
The trail culture is good - because it's such a freakin' miserable trail to walk, pretty much the only people you meet are people who want to Hike The Appalachian Trail (rather than, you know, just want to hike, because in that case you'd pick a trail that was actually nice) and, within ~5 miles of a road, locals out with their dogs, so there's a real sense of shared ownership of the AT as a cultural artifact, and of camaraderie, and a laid-back spirit.
The other thing about the AT is that logistically, it's relatively easy: all the towns and roads it crosses are used to long-distance hikers stumbling in, there are plenty of campsites and shelters and water source and resupply shops, relatively well spaced; there's enough traffic and the trail is well enough marked and maintained that you can get the backcountry feeling without the actual danger of isolation and wilderness; and there's lots of other hikers around who are happy to help and share. Plus it's easy driving distance for something like a quarter of the US population. And there really isn't any cheaper possible vacation. (You can spend a ton of money on trail gear if you want to but for most of the AT, you really don't have to.)
And long-distance backpacking in general is - physically horrendous for someone with my general lack of physical condition, but mentally relaxing, because once you're out on the trail, literally the only decision you can make is "do I keep going now, or do I take a break for food/water/rest, and then keep going later?" Because there are no other options. You can't do anything about anything off the trail until you are off it, and you can't get off the trail except by keeping going, however slowly that might be by the end of the day and however heavily you are leaning on your stick. You have one path and you have to go down it and life's exactly that simple.
That would probably drive a lot of people 'round the bend, but it works for me. (Of course, in our modern world - where we talked to thru-hikers who had been on the trail for months and been on the internet on their smartphones nearly every day - that part of the trail experience is probably whittling away, too. I had mine turned off thanks.)
And I also like... the experience of having done it? The experience of long-distance walking is sort of a foundational human experience - before cars, really, nearly everybody had done multi-day walks (or multiple all-day walks in a row) many, many times in their lives, even if they were walking beside carts or animals. It's still a basic part of life for many people all around the world. Just not people like me who live in a place where a car is basically required because walkability is limited (and walking along the roads stupidly dangerous) even if you try. I know that getting out a couple times a year to hike a trail doesn't really show me anything substantial about what a long-distance-walking life is like, but it shows me more than not doing it would.
Anyway, today I am walking with a cane because my calf muscles are celebrating Labor Day by going on strike whenever I stand up, and also I have gauze pads taped across the backs of both my ankles where every shoe I have ever hiked in (from $200 hiking boots to Crocs) has worn away the skin, and I can still feel my packstraps even when I'm not wearing them, but generally I am satisfied for at least awhile, I think. I told everyone that next hiking trip I do will be somewhere level. Maybe a barrier island. I once walked half of Fenwick Island and back in an afternoon and barely noticed I'd done it. (We crossed 82 hundred-foot contour lines on the map during that 20 mile hike, which is more elevation change than climbing Old Rag. And a lot more horizontal.)
Now I need to lever myself up and unpack properly. Analysis of this year's pack contents and their usefulness coming as soon as I've managed that.