One of the more common questions we get asked as thru-hikers is, "How has this trip changed you?". It's not an easy question to answer, and truly changing a person is not an easy thing to do. That being said, the trail has taught us ( and re-taught us, and re-taught us again) some lessons that I hope we will carry with us for the rest of our lives. One of those lessons is how we deal with fear (I'm going to lump fear/dread/avoidance all together for this one).
Confession time: We didn't start philosophical discussion on fear because that's what we like to talk about over dinner. We started talking about fear after reading our friend Matt's blog post "Practicing Poverty and Other Lessons In Stoicism (AKA United Kingdom and Iceland Are Expensive!)". Matt is currently taking 7 months to explore Europe, and is keeping a fantastic blog that you can find at www.giveliveexplore.com. In this particular post, Matt talks about how "Stoicism teaches the development of self-control and fortitude as a means of overcoming destructive emotions"......emotions like fear.
On the trail, we experience fear in an outright and direct way more often than the average American probably does. We actually worry about threats like venomous snakes, Lyme disease, falling trees, water-bourne illness, lightning, protective bears, storms, falls, dehydration, hypothermia, heat stroke, hunger, drowning, hunters, and losing our way - these are things we think about on a daily basis (sorry Mom, I know that was a tough sentence but I figure you've already read "A Walk In The Woods"). And here's the amazing thing.....a good portion of those fears have already happened to us, and here we are, hiking New Hampshire and feeling great.
The Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote about overcoming the fear of poverty:
"Set aside a certain number of days, during which you will be content with the scantiest and cheapest fare, with course and rough dress, saying to yourself the while: Is this the condition I feared?"
In other words, once it happens, is it really that horrible, or is it just something different, and maybe uncomfortable, but something that we can adjust to?
One fateful day, Guyline set out to answer this question - is the fear we feel worse than actually experiencing the things we fear? Was FDR right when he asserted his firm belief that "the only thing we have to fear itself"?
Exhale, parents - Guyline didn't intentionally put himself in harm's way via any of the threats and fears I listed above. Why not start small? In actuality, the day he tested Seneca, FDR, and our friend Matt was the day - and the only day since - we realized we were going to run out of toilet paper in the middle of the woods.
"Well," I said, shaking my head in disbelief at our oversight, "Maybe we won't even need to poop before town." (These types of things are perfectly acceptable, if not encouraged, topics of conversation with significant others, perfect strangers, etc. on the trail).
Guyline looked back at me, his eyes blazing with determination and a hint of "Who are you kidding?", and declared, "No. I'm not letting this hang over me like that. Have you seen any sassafras bushes?".
"Guyline!," I gasped in horror, "You don't need to do this! There are still at least 15 - 20 squares left!" (although inside, I was screaming silently, "please don't use it, you crazy fool, please don't use it......I could totally make it to town on this without you!").
"Bearcub, I SAID, have you seen any sassafras?" he repeated, eyes still blazing.
In disbelief at my good fortune and his bravery/stupidity, I helped him locate the "safe to touch" sassafras leaves and watched in amazement as he picked a healthy handful and headed toward the shelter's privy with his head held high. What a guy......rather than dread this over the next few days, he was taking the bull by the horns and willingly wiping his butt with leaves instead of toilet paper.
"Well?" I asked tentatively when he returned, bracing myself for the worst.
"It wasn't bad.....it was totally fine. It was just like Seneca said."
Well there you have it, folks. It was fine. Just like Seneca said. And so it is with many of the things that we fear on the trail but also in everyday life - failure, being alone, being poor, feeling inferior, change. I'm not advocating that we all go stand on top of a mountain in a lightning storm and challenge the awesome power of Mother Nature to give us something to be fearful of.....but I am advocating that we start using a technique that Tim Ferriss (one of Guyline and Matt's heroes) encourages in his book "4 Hour Work Week"; imagine the worst case scenario - could you handle it? Sometimes, the worst case scenario may be: I will get struck by lightning twice and go into cardiac arrest, causing me to lose my balance and fall off a mountain, breaking both my legs. I will lay there in agony for days, too weak to call for help, while vultures circle and begin pecking at my head. Ok, so go ahead and be fearful for that one.
But more often than not, the worst case scenario isn't that bad. Should I take a leave of absence to hike the Appalachian Trail? Worst case scenario - I fail and go home with my tail tucked between my legs, and everyone just has to get over it. People worth talking to will probably respect the fact that I even tried. Should I leave my safe job and try to start my own business? Worst case scenario - I fail, lose all my money, can't find another, and move into my parents' basement. Sounds lovely, Laun makes one hell of a quiche.
The AT re-teaches me this lesson at least once a week....every time it rains. When my handy dandy iPhone actually has reception, the first thing I do is update the weather report, and the dread starts creeping in for any day with a chance of rain above 30% (about half the time). I spend my day praying for dry weather and dwelling on how terrible it will be to get soaked to the bones. And every time it happens, I realize that a.) all of those hours worrying didn't change anything, and b.) it's fine (just like Seneca said). I'm wet and slightly uncomfortable, but I'm fine.
I recognize that fear has it's place, but next time you find yourself avoiding something, play the wort-case scenario game. You just might find yourself with a clean butt and a peaceful mind.
Bearcub
Friday, August 17, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Stating the Facts
thought we'd give you a state by state rundown of the entire AT as we've
experienced it and as we anticipate it. Here's the catch...I like blogging
and you like reading, but we're both busy people. So rather than taking the
time to carefully craft a post that's both informational and easy to read,
I'm going to forget the rules of grammar and just shoot from the hip on
this one. I'm also including for each state the Appalachian Trail
Conservancy's difficulty range, the trail's distance, and our average daily
mileage. For the record I disagree with most of the ATC's difficulty
ratings. Sections of each state are harder they are rated. For example,
Pennsylvania has a very steep, incredibly rocky climb more difficult than
anything else we've done yet the difficulty rating is a 4.
*Georgia* - Difficulty 6 - Distance 76.4 - Mileage 8.23 - Bearcub's friend
Anne drops us off at the trail. We let out a collective gulp as we watch
her drive away. We're anxious, excited, nervous, and slightly scared. The
trail goes up and right back down again through the entire state. It's
rough on Bearcub's knees so we take a day off to play bar trivia with the
locals. We consider holing up in a hotel for 6 months writing fake blog
posts about the trials and tribulations of the AT, but instead we keep
hiking. Or do we?
*North Carolina* - Difficulty 3-6 - Distance 95.5 - Mileage 7.5 - The
terrain is still pretty up and down as if it was a bunch of mountains or
something. For some reason we didn't think it would be this hard. Bearcub's
knees are still acting up, so we take 2 zeroes and a few very short days.
We start to get a steady pace going as we reach the Smokies. This is the
time we meet everyone we'll be hiking around for the next 1,000 miles.
We're getting the hang of hiking and decide we might could keep doing it.
That's Carolina speak for we might be able to keep doing it.
*Tennessee* - Difficulty 5-6 - Distance 287.9 - Mileage 10.12- The trail
hugs the TN/NC border for miles. We never know what state we're in. Bearcub
comes down with what eventually becomes known among hikers as the Erwin
Sickness right outside of Erwin, TN. This sidelines us in the trail town
you least want to be sidelined in. Sorry, Erwin. Trail at the end of
Tennessee is beautiful and not too challenging. Our spirits are renewed.
*Virginia* - Difficulty 2-6 - Distance 550.3 - Mileage 12.19 - We're
excited to get to what we hear is the easy part of the trail. Disappointed
to find it's only slightly easier than the first part of the trail. The AT
reaches into its grab bag of ailments and hands Bearcub a healthy dose of
Giardia. This makes Virginia's 535 miles seem even longer. Nonetheless, we
finally get into a groove and start consistently logging decent miles.
However, we kiss the hopes of finishing before Bearcub's cousin's wedding
on Sep 23rd goodbye. We get our first visitors when Bearcub's aunt and
uncle, my family, and friends Anne and Sarika come to visit. Anne
henceforth not so secretly hopes for blog mentions. My mom makes it clear
that she doesn't like my beard. I tell her hopefully it will grow on her
like it did on me. Zing.
*West Virginia* - Difficulty 2-3 - Distance 4 - A tiny state that we're
happy to knock out quickly. Hit the psychological halfway point in Harpers
Ferry. They take our picture at ATC headquarters to prove we made it this
far. My eyes are closed in the photo. 1.017 miles wasted.
*Maryland* - Difficulty 2-3 - Distance 40.9 - Mileage 12.47 - Another tiny
state. I tease Bearcub in front of some friends about a previous fall she
took only to take a fall of my own seconds later. I stop teasing Bearcub.
*Pennsylvania* - Difficulty 2-4 - Distance 229.6 - Mileage 16.25 - It's
flat! For once, the trail is flat. We rejoice by catching the Sound of
Music at a resort/playhouse right off the trail. Not joking. Soon the flat
is negated by a hundred miles of jagged rocks and boulders. Fa - a long,
long way to walk on rocks. So - ready for our feet to stop hurting. In PA
we realize that if we really hustle, we may be able to finish before the
wedding. We decide to make like a Pizza Hut and Book It.
*New Jersey* - Difficulty 2-5 - Distance 72.2 - Mileage 16.06 - Overjoyed
to be done with PA. We face off with a protective mama bear. The wind
steals my trekking pole and throws it off a mountain. Not The Situation I
was hoping to encounter in Jersey.
*New York* - Difficulty 2-6 - Distance 88.4 - Mileage 17.38 - Unnecessarily
challenging trail takes us over every rocky incline in the entire state
even though there are plainly easier routes. Water sources are a far cry
from the crystal clear springs in the south. Luckily, trail angels provide
water, take us in for the night, and feed us. We don't know how they get
our laundry smelling so clean until we get poured on the next day and soap
suds start running down my legs.
*Connecticut* - Difficulty 4-5 - Distance 51.6 - Mileage 16.4 - pretty
trail, but difficult. Not much else to say about it other than the fact
that we got a free beer at a liquor store just for being thru-hikers.
*Massachusetts* - Difficulty 3-6 - Distance 90.2 - Mileage so far 17.1 -
similar to CT in that it's both beautiful and difficult. Dissimilar to CT
in that we're currently in it. Amazing visit from Bearcub's sister who
takes us to see the new Batman movie. The film is even more awe-inspiring
since we're so out of touch with reality that we think it's real.
*Vermont* - Difficulty 5-6 - Distance 149.8 - We've heard the trail in VT
is beautiful, but it looks pretty rough on the elevation map.
*New Hampshire* - Difficulty 6-10 - Distance - 160.9 - supposedly the most
difficult state, but a planned visit from Bearcub's mama and papa bear
should help to soften the blow. Also supposed to be amazing beautiful.
*Maine* - Difficulty 3-10 - Distance - 281.4 - also supposed to be
difficult, but we should be on cloud 9 knowing that the journey is almost
at its conclusion.
 |
| Guyline's eyes are closed - 1,017 miles wasted |
 |
| The rocky trail of Pennsylvania |
 |
| Somebody needed an extra rinse cycle |
 |
| A beer and wine shop in Cornwall Bridge, CT offers all thru hikers a free beer of their choice |
To be honest, at this point of the trip the state I'm most looking forward
to is Illinois. I hear Chicago is as flat as a pancake. Later, readers!
- Guyline
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Trails and Tribulations
Hello our faithful blog readers, from New York! We have spent the last week wrapping up New Jersey and kicking off the Empire state, and it has been the best of times, and the worst of times.
Unfortunately, rain has been in the forecast almost everyday. We've gotten lucky a few times and watched hail storms from the safety of a shelter, and we've also gotten caught in some pretty torrential downpours. When it rains, we just hope that we get a chance to dry out our things, either while we wear them (if it clears up) or hanging off our packs the next day. Moldy hiking clothes/gear is.....well, it's the worst, and our standards aren't that great to begin with.
Our final day in New Jersey was one of our most eventful days on the trail.....we experienced our two scariest moments of the entire trip in one day of hiking. About 5 minutes into our day, we heard rustling and looked up to see a bear cub shimmying down a tree (he tumbled the last ten feet which made it even cuter). We watched from a safe distance and listened to his rustling as he left, presumably to find mama. Then we hung around hitting our trekking poles together and calling out to give the pair plenty of time to get away, and finally resumed hiking. About 30 yards up the trail, we turned a corner and I was face to face with momma, about 15 feet in front of me. She was the biggest AND closest bear we've seen yet, and her cub was nowhere in sight.
Instinctively, I hit my trekking poles together, which usually sends bears running. She looked at me and pretty much told me with her expression, "I don't care what kinds of noises you can make.....where's my cub?". And then she started walking toward us. At this point, I panicked and Guyline immediately knew what I was going to do (obviously, I was about to run). He very calmly said, "Don't run. Just get behind me.". So I got behind him and we slowly backed away, avoiding eye contact with mama bear and talking in soft voices to show her we mean no harm. Although I must admit, my "slow backing up" was more like sideways speed-walking.
Once we were at a safe distance, we waited and listened to the sounds of mama and cub finding each other and leaving the area before starting again, making plenty of noise to avoid a surprise. When we turned the corner again, they were about 50 feet away and didn't even look up at us.
Later, about 15 miles into our day, we passed by a road with a creamery and enjoyed some ice cream and a lovely view. The weather forecast had said severe thunderstorms all day, but it had been clear so far. As we finished up our ice cream, we saw dark clouds on the horizon and decided to get going; we had just two miles left to the shelter which should have been enough time to beat the rain.
About one mile in, we started hearing thunder in the distance, and figured we definitely had enough time to get in and set up camp before the rain hit. This part of the hike, like a lot of NJ and NY so far, was on an exposed ridge line with huge boulders you either walk along or climb over, and the storm hit within minutes of us first hearing the thunder. We heard the creaks, groans, and snaps of strong wind against the trees, and before we knew it, both of us were nearly knocked off the mountain.....one of Guyline's trekking poles blew off when he fell and flew off the side of the mountain, never to be seen again. Then came the pelting rain, lightening, and the loudest thunder I've ever heard in my life; within minutes we were soaking wet and freezing. We could literally see parts of trees flying off the mountain, the winds were so strong.
We quickly decided we needed to get off the ridge, and scrambled down to safer ground. We remembered there was a bypass trail for hikers who wanted to skip the boulder climbing, and quickly found it and made our way to the shelter. I wish I had gotten a video of the storm, but it was no time to go fishing for a phone wrapped 4 layers deep in waterproofing.
So, we've made it safely through some pretty hairy situations lately, but we've got our sights set on Mt. Katahdin now more than ever. With less than 800 miles left, we finally feel like we are counting down and not up. From here North, the terrain gets tougher, so we are girding our loins for the mountains to come. Bring it, AT!
Bearcub
Unfortunately, rain has been in the forecast almost everyday. We've gotten lucky a few times and watched hail storms from the safety of a shelter, and we've also gotten caught in some pretty torrential downpours. When it rains, we just hope that we get a chance to dry out our things, either while we wear them (if it clears up) or hanging off our packs the next day. Moldy hiking clothes/gear is.....well, it's the worst, and our standards aren't that great to begin with.
Our final day in New Jersey was one of our most eventful days on the trail.....we experienced our two scariest moments of the entire trip in one day of hiking. About 5 minutes into our day, we heard rustling and looked up to see a bear cub shimmying down a tree (he tumbled the last ten feet which made it even cuter). We watched from a safe distance and listened to his rustling as he left, presumably to find mama. Then we hung around hitting our trekking poles together and calling out to give the pair plenty of time to get away, and finally resumed hiking. About 30 yards up the trail, we turned a corner and I was face to face with momma, about 15 feet in front of me. She was the biggest AND closest bear we've seen yet, and her cub was nowhere in sight.
Instinctively, I hit my trekking poles together, which usually sends bears running. She looked at me and pretty much told me with her expression, "I don't care what kinds of noises you can make.....where's my cub?". And then she started walking toward us. At this point, I panicked and Guyline immediately knew what I was going to do (obviously, I was about to run). He very calmly said, "Don't run. Just get behind me.". So I got behind him and we slowly backed away, avoiding eye contact with mama bear and talking in soft voices to show her we mean no harm. Although I must admit, my "slow backing up" was more like sideways speed-walking.
Once we were at a safe distance, we waited and listened to the sounds of mama and cub finding each other and leaving the area before starting again, making plenty of noise to avoid a surprise. When we turned the corner again, they were about 50 feet away and didn't even look up at us.
Later, about 15 miles into our day, we passed by a road with a creamery and enjoyed some ice cream and a lovely view. The weather forecast had said severe thunderstorms all day, but it had been clear so far. As we finished up our ice cream, we saw dark clouds on the horizon and decided to get going; we had just two miles left to the shelter which should have been enough time to beat the rain.
About one mile in, we started hearing thunder in the distance, and figured we definitely had enough time to get in and set up camp before the rain hit. This part of the hike, like a lot of NJ and NY so far, was on an exposed ridge line with huge boulders you either walk along or climb over, and the storm hit within minutes of us first hearing the thunder. We heard the creaks, groans, and snaps of strong wind against the trees, and before we knew it, both of us were nearly knocked off the mountain.....one of Guyline's trekking poles blew off when he fell and flew off the side of the mountain, never to be seen again. Then came the pelting rain, lightening, and the loudest thunder I've ever heard in my life; within minutes we were soaking wet and freezing. We could literally see parts of trees flying off the mountain, the winds were so strong.
We quickly decided we needed to get off the ridge, and scrambled down to safer ground. We remembered there was a bypass trail for hikers who wanted to skip the boulder climbing, and quickly found it and made our way to the shelter. I wish I had gotten a video of the storm, but it was no time to go fishing for a phone wrapped 4 layers deep in waterproofing.
So, we've made it safely through some pretty hairy situations lately, but we've got our sights set on Mt. Katahdin now more than ever. With less than 800 miles left, we finally feel like we are counting down and not up. From here North, the terrain gets tougher, so we are girding our loins for the mountains to come. Bring it, AT!
Bearcub
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