Great view, cheap rent, walking distance from Canada.I’m back at home after a 7-night solo hike through 100 miles of Vermont’s Green Mountains. This was an “unsupported” hike, meaning I carried all my supplies for the entire hike on my back. In one day I climbed over 3,500 feet while setting a new personal distance record of 21 miles. Overall the hike was four times longer than my previous longest hike and I collected a good share of stories along the way.
The part of the Long Trail (LT) I was hiking inspired outdoor enthusiasts to extend it and construct the world-famous Appalachian Trail (AT), a 2200 mile trail from Georgia to Maine which connects all the mountain ranges in the Appalachians . During my week hiking I shared camp sites and a good amount of conversation with many “thru hikers” who had either left Georgia in March or April or departed from Maine in May.
Thru hikers of the AT get a lot of credit from me. These are people who put their lives on hold for 5-8 months to hike. Their currency is weight: they all know exactly how many pounds they are carrying and will mail their sleeping bag and cooking gear ahead a couple hundred miles to lighten their packs by 4 pounds. They will only carry 2-4 days of food and spend occasional days “taking a zero” (as in zero miles on the trail) to hitch-hike to grocery stores, hostels, or the homes of old hikers for supplies, showers or a meal with fresh ingredients that would have required refrigeration. Thru hikers could tell me how to get the post office to ship packages for free, how many calories per ounce are in a bagel, or why almonds and walnuts are the best nuts to put in trail mix. They only filter their water if it is absolutely necessary and would rather sleep in a three-walled open shelter than set up their tarp or lightweight tent. They have lost anywhere from 5 to 40 pounds on the trail, are mostly over 30 (some pushing 70), many are divorced or recently ended a long relationship and all of them have stories to tell about why they are hiking. Some are “professional hikers” who only work three months of the winter to support their hiking.
Some of these characteristics apply to people thru hiking the LT though it is a shorter hike. Many AT thru hikers will say it takes about 300 miles to get into the “trail lifestyle” so in the southern part of the state where the LT and AT trails are one, the LTers pick up on the lessons and tall tales of the ATers have to give.
I had hoped to thru hike the entire 272 miles of the Long Trail from Massachusetts to Canada. So despite my feeling of accomplishment I am a little disappointed by an old injury which caused me to cut my hike short. I sprained an ankle two years ago hiking in boots with poor ankle support. After five days of hiking the Long Trail my ankle started hurting again. Even with bandages and plenty of what some hikers call “vitamin-I” (ibuprofen) it was clear by day seven that continuing the hike without properly resting my leg would risk doing more damage. I have spent most of my summer getting physically qualified to work in Antarctica and I didn’t want to risk losing my job because of a hiking injury. If there is still a Vermont when I get back from Antarctica there will still be a Long Trail but making the decision to be an adult and put work before the trail was surprisingly tough for me emotionally.
While the AT thru hikers probably get the most respect, there isn’t really a class structure on the trail. When I mentioned I was “just hiking the long trail” to an AT hiker he pointed out that there is no “just” about hiking hundreds of miles. No matter how long or short I was hiking many hikers accepted me as “one of them” because I was happy to be in the woods unlike the 90 something percent of the population still at home in the “real world.”
Both AT and LT thru hikers give each other trail names. These are the names people call you by on the trail and the name you use to sign log books or leave funny messages for the next hiker to use a shelter behind you. A trail name is usually easier to remember than someone’s real name because it has to do with a feature of their personality or gear; picking your own trail name is frowned upon. The people I met along the trail had names like Hobbit, or Pokie (who was both slow and threatened to poke anyone in the shelter that snored). One guy who hiked with a walking stick in his right hand earned the name Right Side. I was named Ti or Titanium because of my super-light Titanium alcohol stove and cooking gear.
Those who aren’t thru hikers fall into a few categories, the most loved being the “trail angels,” those who work minor miracles using “trail magic.” Trail angles are usually retired hikers who make life much better for the hikers by leaving jars of peanut butter or snacks on the trail with signs saying “Thru hikers, help yourselves!” Occasionally they stock coolers or leave milk crates full of soda and beer in cool streams. Some even grill burgers for hikers by the trail or build “secret shelters” to replace the hiking shelters that local high-school kids commandeer for parties.
If you aren’t a trail angel you are probably a day hiker or a section hiker. These groups usually park a car at a trailhead where a road meets the trail and hike to the top of mountains or into the woods for a couple days. Day hikers have small packs if any at all and can be woefully under-prepared for a change in weather. (If a person makes it into the news for getting stranded or having hypothermia in the woods many thru hikers assume they were day hikers) Section hikers usually have packs larger than those of thru hikers since they only have to carry them for a couple of days. There is some truth to the adage that “people with a lot of gear are campers, people with only a little gear are hikers.” Both day and section hikers smell of deodorant and perfumed soap and can be easily recognized by thru hikers who ditched the bear-attracting scented products in their first hundred miles on the trail. Some thru hikers take it upon themselves to toy with section hikers for their own entertainment. One thru hiker known as “El Guapo” carried a Mexican wrestler’s mask with him as a “luxury item” to scare section and day hikers.
Aside from the occasional ranger (aka “ridge runner”) or homeless person living in a shelter, the other group one encounters on the trail is known affectionately as “the cheaters,” or “the tourons.” These are the people who pay to take chairlifts or roads up the mountains to see the view rather than having a view as a reward for a good hike. They tend to ask a lot of questions about thru hiking. Hikers are generally happy to have some human contact and to tell their stories. At times, however, “the tourons” can be callous and remind hikers of the reasons they decided to spend so much time in the woods in the first place. One woman from New Jersey asked me and an AT thru hiker “What do you people do to support yourselves so you can walk in the woods for months?” which sounded a lot to me like, “Get a job you hippie!” An infamous question not dignified with an answer is “Why’d you walk all the way up that side if there’s a chairlift over here?” Many hikers brush off the more annoying and judgmental of the tourons in ways similar to how most people deal with the Jehovah’s Witnesses at their door. While most tourons are pleasant, the only redeeming trait of many is the food from their picnic lunch that they may offer or leave behind.
With that cast of characters it was a fun week. I still probably spent over half of my time alone in the woods which was great for thinking and de-stressing. There is something nice about going to bed at sunset and waking up at sunrise knowing the only thing I have to do that day is put one foot in front of the other. Before I knew it, I was 100 miles beyond my starting point and in a lot better shape both physically and mentally. The hike showed me I can make it on the trail for an extended period of time without showers, toilets, or heated shelter during cold rain storms. With that experience I am definitely going to go back and finish the hike after I return from the ice.
