Day 83: Wind Gap, PA - 1,274 Miles

August 01, 2014 by Gary Sizer in Hiking, Appalachian Trail

This is going to be a very quick update because I'm getting back on the trail today after resting my feet for a few days. First of all, thank you all so much for caring about my feet! I've received a surprising amount of well wishes and prayers, and I'm happy to report that my feet feel good. I am wearing my favorite boots now, and they really help on the rocks. There's certain trail terrain that triggers a Pavlovian fear response when I see it, and now with the extra foot armor, I can walk with a normal gait again. My foot no longer "rainbows" over the pointy rocks. I feel protected, and strong.

I made one last stop at the doctors office this morning for a a final pre-trail once-over. I've had a rash for the past few days and I wanted to get it looked at. Within one second of examining it, the doc said, "You have Lyme disease."

This would explain the fatigue, headaches, joint pain and excessive napping lately. I just thought all of those things were the cumulative effects of three months of hiking. The good news is, I'm on a strong antibiotic, the bad news is, I'm going to feel like shit for the next month. At least I'll feel like shit out in the woods where I'm happy, and not in some stupid grey office building. So I've got that going for me.

One last thing, and then I'm back on the trail. If you're interested in more frequent updates from me, please find me on Facebook. I'm Gary Sizer and I'll be your friend. I try to put a lot of time and thought into updates here, which means less frequent stories. On Facebook, I'll toss up a pretty picture and a sentence or two about where I am or what I'm doing. It's light, but there's a lot of it, so that's an option too.

I cannot thank Lode Land Hospitality enough for giving me a place to convalesce these past few days. My body healed, but far more important is the restoration to my spirit. I have laughed and smiled and eaten and slept and even gained four pounds here. More importantly, I've gained a real friend, and I'm glad that the trail put me here.

Onward...

Day 79: Boiling Springs, PA - 1,117 miles

July 30, 2014 by Gary Sizer in Hiking, Appalachian Trail

My last update (the one before the ice cream one!) had me in Harper's Ferry, WV. I wound up taking a total of four consecutive zero days to give my feet a chance to calm down. I switched back to a well tried and tested shoe. In order to ease back into hiking, rather than simply jump right back into a string of 20s, I intended to ramp up. My next few days would look like this: 7, 14, 18, 15, and then maybe back into the 20s again. "I don't know," I thought, "I'll just wait and see." Definitely no Four-State Challenge in my near future.

I met Fiddlin' Jim and Joe on my way out of town! For those of you just joining us, these guys were half of my original trail family, and I hadn't seen them in weeks. We laughed and joked about how much had changed since then, everyone skinnier, more beards all around. They told me that Voldemort, Droid and Lemmy would probably be about a day behind, and I figured that they'd catch me at some point during my ramp up.

The trail doesn't stay in West Virginia for very long. In fact, I moved into Maryland that evening. With apologies to my friends who live there, I have to say that MD has been my least favorite part of the AT so far. Sorry guys, but you're the worst. I became used to a bit of road noise while in Virginia, thanks to the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive. Cars, RVs and Harleys just a few hundred feet from the trail would be a welcome relief from the sonic nightmare that is the AT in Maryland. All of the above plus: backing up construction vehicles, honking horns, lawnmowers, barking dogs, sirens and at one point what I believe to be a bagpipe arguing with a vuvuzela. I spent more time behind my earbuds here than in any other state. Fortunately, there was plenty of electricity available. I'll give you this, Maryland, you have the Dahlgren Backpacker's Campsite, and that was pretty sweet.

The Campsite is a flat grassy spot right by the trail. It's the size of a football field and has picnic tables, bear poles (to hang your food at night), and a restroom/shower facility with hot water and working power outlets. These are all the things a hiker could ever want at the and of a day, and it's all free of charge.

I had just stepped out of the shower and had put on pants and a shirt when the men's room door opened. There stood my old friend Droid, covered in sweat. I hadn't seen him since the Smokys and before I could register my surprise, he turned his head to someone just outside and said, "It's clear." Voldemort then burst through the door, ran to me and hugged me. The three of us moved the party out of the bathroom and onto a nearby bench, where we were shortly joined by Lemmy.

We had a lot to catch up on. Droid had been way ahead of all of us until a stomach bug knocked him off the trail for a full week. Voldemort had been chasing me for almost a month, and I had been trying all month to shake Lemmy. Just kidding, Lemmy! Voldemort said that she had read about my feet and forgave me for becoming a dirty yellow blazer. We learned from fellow campers that a local pizza place delivered, and after having not been all in the same place for over 800 miles the four of us enjoyed a feast together that night: pizza, Sprite and wine berries from the bushes near our tents.

The four of us enjoyed two full days of hiking before we were split again.

Having been apart, our resupply needs were out of sync, so Voldemort continued hiking while Droid, Lemmy and I hitched into Waynesboro to buy food. Having only recently returned to longer distances, our proposed goal for the day was a bit of a stretch for my tired feet; the hike plus the side trip to town would amount to something like 24 miles. With plenty of daylight left, I opted to stop about seven miles short at the Tumbling Run Shelter. This was before the world famous Half Gallon Challenge, where we'd all agreed to be in three days, and I was pretty sure I could make up seven miles over three days.

The Tumbling Run Shelter is the first "double shelter" you encounter in PA (northbound). They are labeled "Snoring" and "Non-Snoring," and between them on a raised stone landing is a covered picnic table. There are actual clotheslines and a small stream runs (in fact, it tumbles) nearby. Of course I'll stay.

Lemmy passed me on his way to meet the others and I asked him to tell them my plan. "See y'all at the ice cream place!" He left, I made dinner and while I was finishing, a headlamp appeared where the trail joins the shelter. The head under that headlamp belonged to Lode. He had a big beard, a big smile and his backpack was adorned with an action figure. He smelled too good to be a thru hiker. Lode introduced himself and we chatted. After a bit he asked, "What are you hungry for?" Now, this is one of the standard poll questions we all get asked by day hikers and weekenders all the time. That and, "What do you do when it rains?" and, "Do you carry a gun?" So I wasn't really expecting Reese's Peanut Butter Cups to appear when I said so, but they did. And in great quantities too!

Lode fashions himself to be not a Trail Angel, but a Trail Magician. "Shelters are my top hat," he says. "That's all I need to make magic." He lives near the trail and hikes for exercise, as well as the opportunity to mysteriously pull candy out of the air. Once during a hot, dry spell, Lode hiked several pounds of ice, drinks, and ice cream to a crowded shelter just in time for dessert. "Some of 'em were already sleeping, but when they heard there was ice cream I could see headlamps coming on and wrapped toes swinging over the edges of bunks." We continued talking until past "hiker midnight" and finally I turned in. That night, my headlamp attracted the fireflies into my shelter and I had my own private light show.

When I awoke the next morning my feet were tender, so I slipped into my Crocs and waddled around camp, getting ready to hike. Overnight there had been a text from my brother, and we worked out that his vacation and me being in Pennsylvania were a happy coincidence because that meant that we could meet up soon. As in day after tomorrow soon. It also meant that instead of catching my friends at Pine Grove Furnace State Park around noon, I'd instead meet my brother and nephew there around dinner, and catch my friends later. Perfectly doable, assuming that my feet didn't get worse. They had certainly improved compared to their worst, but I was now taping several toes and still walking gingerly on runnable surfaces.

So I made it to the ice cream thing and you can read about that in the last post. Here are some afterthoughts on my Half Gallon Challenge: I was about one third into my vanilla when I figured out that it had melted and re-frozen at some point. The top half was all watery ice crystals and the bottom was a puck of syrupy goo. But it was all they had left. The mint chocolate chip was very tasty and I'm glad I ended on that. I had a crazy sugar buzz and felt like crap the next day.

Jim and Jacob and I had a great time visiting and we enjoyed our stay at the Ironmaster's Mansion Hostel at the State Park. Even after I'd taken a shower and done laundry, Jim still forced me to wear one of his shirts and apply some scented armpit spray that reminded me of middle school. He also really saved the day by getting me to a not-nearby running shoe specialty store so I could pick up a specific insole I'd been told would cure all woes in the toes.

It was a quick visit and I was back on the trail. That was a short day because of the late start, which is usually the case when there's a town stop. The following day, despite the new shoes, despite the new insoles, and despite the ever decreasing mileage, my feet still hurt. If you followed the toenail report from my last update, you may recall that I was stopped in my tracks by a full list of problems. The good news is that now I'm only down to one problem and that's the bruising on the balls of my feet.

So I walked slowly and I stopped at 14 miles instead of 18. Which was good, because I got to spend a night at the best maintained shelter on the AT (so far), the Quarry Gap Shelter. A wooden gate with a welcome sign and a small wooden duck were what I saw first. I thought that I had accidentally wandered into someone's back yard. The spring was landscaped, including ceramic frogs, turtles, and a working sundial. Hanging plants adorned the double shelters and the caretaker had left plenty of fire making materials as well.

The following morning I received a message from Lode saying "nice to meet you" type stuff and reminding me that if I ever needed anything while I was in PA to give him a call. "Once you cross the border into Maryland or Jersey you're someone else's problem. But as long as you're in Pennsylvania, I got your back." This was music to my ears because I'd just started contemplating a zero. It had been nearly ten days and I'm sure my feet would benefit from some rest. Also because the next shelter was 26 miles away and I didn't see any stopping points along the way unless I wanted to tent by some busy railroad tracks.

I told Lode I'd be happy to meet him tomorrow afternoon and I spent the next day going ten miles in ten hours. I walked slowly on purpose and rested frequently. Nevertheless, when I finally met him again, Lode told me I looked like a slow motion speed walker because of the way I strain to not bounce or bob while walking, knees slightly bent, gliding just a bit.

I can hear the train on those busy tracks, glad to be miles away, here at the Lode Land Hostile. "I spell it that way on purpose," he says. "It's not a hostel, it's a hoss-steel." He's not in any of the guide books, nor does he want to be. Part of the reason he hikes is to take the magic to the hikers, but also to get a feel for who's out there. "I love to help people out, but I don't want people showing up in my driveway at ten o'clock at night. I knew your feet were banged up, so I called you." And now that I thought back, yeah. He did. And when he hiked up the AT to meet me he had a jug of ice water and offered to carry my pack. For the record, I declined, not because I'm a purist or anything like that, but because I'd just met the guy and for all I know he could be the Bad-Feet Backpacker Bandit and run off with my stuff. Or even walk off at a medium pace, I wasn't going to catch him.

Instead, he led me to his house, a stone's throw from the AT and showed me to my trailer. "The AC's been going for about an hour, but if you want to wait until after you've had a shower it'll be nice and cool in there for you."

The next morning he drove me into town to see a doctor, who happened to be one of his best friends growing up. Lode's friend wasn't in that day, but I was still happy to be seen. I was told by an actual medical professional that my feet "look great for having so many miles on them," and that I have high arches. This means that the balls of my feet bear a greater percentage of my weight than most people, hence the bruising and sensitivity. More cushion and better protection from rocks would be essential, so I asked Trail Boss Katie to send me my boots. The doc also said that I should rest for as long as I possibly could, which is why I'm here at Lode Land. Resting.

My new hiking hat, now with more feathers!

Day 77: Pine Grove Furnace State Park, PA - 1,098 miles

July 25, 2014 by Gary Sizer in Hiking, Appalachian Trail

[posted by Katie, Gary's Trail Boss]

Green Giant has crossed the halfway point of the AT! And, more importantly, he has successfully completed the Half-Gallon Challenge (an AT tradition at the halfway point). First up was vanilla...

And since containers of ice cream are no longer true half gallons, he then ate a pint of mint chocolate chip...

He managed this feat in about 30 minutes and still had room for dinner.

Day 61: Waynesboro, VA - 857 miles

July 10, 2014 by Gary Sizer in Hiking, Appalachian Trail

It's been a full week since Independence Day, and I'm still thinking back to what a great day that was. So far the one person I've been pretty consistently hiking with is my good friend, Lemmy. Lemmy is from Israel, was a medic in the army for three years and is now doing what every smart young person should do before focusing on education or a career, he's traveling the world for a year. He draws cartoons, loves Dungeons and Dragons and is one of those rare people so clever that he can be funny in his second language. He also is quite good at getting rides to town.

Before I crossed the longest footbridge on the AT, I debated whether or not to stop and pee. I'm glad I didn't, because if I had crossed that bridge one second later I would not have seen Lemmy waving from the passenger side of that red pickup. "Green Giant! Run! You can make it, hurry!"

I did just that, and when I arrived a voice from the driver's side ordered me to "Hop on in the back there, just throw your pack in the canoe." A single canvas strap, worn to threads in places, barely held the boat in place. Surely the additional weight of my pack would cause it and all of my belongings to go sailing down the road at some point, nevertheless I obeyed. I wedged myself between the wheel well and the canoe, grabbed on to anything and held on. Tires spun, gravel sprayed and we bounced out onto the winding blacktop.

I removed my hat and sat on it as the wind swirled around me. The world raced away in reverse. I heard a knock on the window at the back of the cab. I could see one meaty forearm with a thumbs-up held just so to perfectly convey, "Everything alright back there?" I responded in kind with my own thumb and the ride continued.

Moments later there was another knock on the window and this time the glass slid open, the same big hairy arm now handing me the remains of a Bud Light. I happily grabbed the bottle and shouted my thanks over the wind in the form of a loud, "YEAH!"

The glass slid shut and I heard, "Man, he's so excited!" and other muffled yukking from the cab. The truck swayed left and right as we climbed higher, center lines were merely a suggestion. As the trees rushed by the sun strobed on my face. I tightened my grip on the canoe, threw back my head and downed the last of the beer in two long gulps. I thought, "Happy birthday, America!" as a piece of garbage flew out of the truck.

We arrived in Glasgow, VA that afternoon and set up camp at the town-provided "Hiker Pavilion." I use quotes because it's more of a shelter than a pavilion, but I suppose they had to call it that to get the vote to pass. Either way, it's very nice. The pavilion is on town land and has electricity and running water, including a shower. There's plenty of tent space, and it's free! As if that's not enough, there's a huge stack of firewood from the trees they cleared to build the pavilion.

Lemmy and I, along with a few others, set up camp there and ate ice cream at the baseball field while watching fireworks and fireflies.

So here it is a week later, and between then and now I've done a lot of walking and have seen a good many things. I'll finish with a few photos, and then I have to get back to hiking. This is not a Zero.

Day 50: Daleville, VA - 724 miles

June 30, 2014 by Gary Sizer in Hiking, Appalachian Trail

11 days ago, something out of the ordinary happened. I arrived at camp that night and nobody else showed up. I mean, there were other people there, just not people I knew. It had been a comparatively difficult day. The terrain had been unusually rocky and I had almost succumbed to the temptation to stop at the prior shelter. I'm pretty sure that's what Voldemort, Forager and Fiddlin' Jim did, especially since they were all still just waking up when I rolled out of camp that morning. I haven't seen them since.

This does not by any means imply that I have been alone. I spent about a week hiking with Dingo, Hungry Horse and Johnny Oak. The four of us put in many long days, pushed through some shitty weather, and enjoyed a relaxing stay at Woods Hole Hostel, an oasis so refreshing that we actually shuttled backwards on the next day to enjoy another night there.

One day back on the trail and now I was the one who had fallen behind. And during all of this my good friend Lemmy disappeared and reappeared a total of three times. It's like when you're stuck in traffic and you keep seeing the same red Volkswagen over and over, thinking, "I thought I passed that guy a long time ago." This is the nature of social life on the trail. Your friends are usually ahead of you or behind you, sometimes both, but never for very long.

During this brief period of social limbo I decided to take a vacation from Trail Life and go on a backpacking trip. I have found myself getting into a routine recently, one that centers around efficiency and maximum mileage. Just for a change of pace, instead of spending the night at a shelter, I decided to put the tent on the first good site I encountered at a reasonable distance to that day's target. It felt nice to not have to rush the final miles in near darkness to make it to the shelter. As my fire died down that night, I realized that that was the first time I had been truly alone in nearly 6 weeks.

Rather than base my daily targets on the seemingly random distances between shelters, I was now free to start or stop wherever I like, my only constraint being that I had to make it to Daleville by Saturday at 6:00 PM because I was expecting a package at the local outfitter. I would need to hike nearly 100 miles in only five days, and I had just finished hiking 100 miles in five days.

Everyone always says, "Virginia is flat," or, "Virginia is where you'll really start cruisin'!" The reality is that both of these things are true, but not until you've already passed the first 300 miles of the state. There are wide open meadows and rolling hills, but those hills are almost 1,000 feet tall and there's no shade. It is 90°. The climb up to every ridge is steep, and every ridge is a never ending treadmill of jagged rocky triangles, snaked with roots, thorns and sand.

Water has been scarce, sometimes miles between sources. And when I say miles I don't mean 3 miles or 5 miles, I mean like 16 or 18 miles without water. When you have to walk that far with only the water you can carry, you start playing games with rationing. "When I get to that tree, I can have one sip!" Water is precious, but it's also heavy. 2 liters weighs 4 pounds and that's just enough to stretch for 10 miles.

So the day before yesterday I found myself hard-pressed to make my self-imposed deadline of reaching Daleville by 6:00 PM on Saturday. I had to push through all of the above conditions while maintaining an average of 2 mph for 10, sometimes 12 hours per day. At one point I reached real dehydration. I was dizzy, stumbling, and had stopped sweating. My heart was pounding, and I found myself easily frustrated. I was thirsty enough to drink pee. But not my own, someone's who is more hydrated than I.

And at no point during any of this has the idea of quitting ever crossed my mind. Thinking about Mount Katahdin this early in the hike is pointless. I'm only one third of the way there. But in order to continue propelling oneself forward through such conditions some short-term motivator is necessary. At the start of each day this week I looked forward to taking a day off in Daleville. By the end of each day my short term motivation consisted of, "If I could just make it to that rock … I can let myself have … a Snickers bar!" And sometimes on the way to that rock, it reduces to, "Just one more step." According to my sister-in-law Priscilla, someone with an average stride will have taken approximately 1.5 million steps by this point, and I feel every single one of them.

My arrival into Daleville consisted of 19 miles by 3:45 PM, with plenty of time to spare before the outfitter closed. As usual, my Zero Day consisted of many chores: laundry, shower, food, phone calls… all tying for first place as top priority. And, as usual, I felt rushed. After a brief internal struggle, and with some encouragement from Lemmy, I decided to take the rare Double Zero. Today is my second consecutive day of not hiking, and it feels really weird. On the other hand, it's been 50 days, 724 miles, and even though I have Zeroed twice, I've never spent one full day really relaxing yet. Until now.

Hikers have been trickling in at a steady rate for the last two days. One brought news of Voldemort, Forager and Fiddlin' Jim. It looks like they will be arriving a few hours after I leave town tomorrow. It would have been nice to see them again, but it's also nice to know that they're not that far behind. One thing we all learned early on is that you never say goodbye on the trail.