Date: 2017-11-14
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0

Once upon a time, not very long ago, if you didn¢t have a local outfitter, mail order catalogues were the primary way you found out what gear was available. You placed your order either using the order form and envelope included in the catalogue or by phoning them on their toll-free line, considered innovative at the time. The current L.L. Bean catalogue still contains a vestigial order form and envelope, but most catalogues exist primarily to tempt you into e-commerce or into a bricks-and-mortar store. When I starting buying gear for my first solo AT hike in 1994, there was no outfitter in Sarasota, Florida where I was living, and the one in Tampa was pretty basic. I didn¢t know about Bill Jackson¢s in Pinellas Park or Travel Country in Altamonte Springs, both full-service outfitters. Without the internet, how would I have known about them? I ordered my ¢Big Three¢ items ¢ backpack, tent, and sleeping bag ¢ through the Tampa outfitter, but for the rest, I depended on Campmor in New Jersey. I phoned them and requested a catalog, and I went through it like a kid at Christmas looking at the Toys ¢R¢ Us catalog. Then I phoned to place my order.I was a salesperson¢s dream, filled with enthusiasm and ignorant as hell.  It¢s a good thing I had purchased a true expedition backpack, the Gregory Robson with a capacity of 95 liters, because I needed the space for all of the useless stuff I ordered. Needless to say, the salesperson chatted me up a good bit. Especially with the potential of a large sale, creating the illusion of personal service and connection is good selling technique. At one point, he asked me where I would be hiking. I said, ¢The Appalachian Trail, in the South.¢ Being a good New Jerseyite whose idea of the South was formed by Deliverance, To Kill a Mockingbird, and possibly Flannery O¢Connor, he exclaimed, ¢That¢s so dangerous! Will be you carrying protection?¢ I had no idea what he meant and answered, ¢Do you mean condoms?¢At least a condom might be useful in an emergency to hold water. But whatever would I do with a gun, especially a gun large enough to offer protection against a marauding bear or a drug-crazed mountain man intent on doing me ill? I shot a BB gun once, but that is the limit of my experience with firearms. Even if I were not averse to guns and other things that make loud noises, I still wouldn¢t carry a gun because it would fail by gear test. What¢s that? When I get home from a hike, I clean my gear. I weigh my favorite snack, usually a Little Debbie Oatmeal Cake, and then I weigh each piece of gear, asking myself a few questions:Was this gear essential to my life and safety?Did I use it at all and was it needed?How many Little Debbie equivalents does it weigh, and which would I have enjoyed more?For me, a weapon fails this test. There have been occasional murders on or near the Appalachian Trail. The number most often cited is 11 since 1974, not all of them hikers. Considering the millions of visitors to the Trail each year, the risk of being murdered is less than remote. The chance of dying from a heart attack on the trail (about two deaths a year) is much greater. On the other hand, if you believe that a gun is essential to your life and safety, then you are free to carry one, so long as you comply with applicable regulations. This link to the National Park Service Appalachian Trail website might be helpful to you: https://www.nps.gov/appa/learn/management/questions-and-answers.htm. As a personal favor, please don¢t let me know that you have one. Knowing that you have a gun in your pocket does not make me glad to see you.I have had several encounters with guns on the Appalachian Trail, usually responsible hunters during spring turkey gobbler season, using the AT to access hunting areas, and carrying their shotguns open. I admit to palpitations when I awoke at Pickle Branch Shelter in Virginia to see a hunter standing over me with a shotgun, until my eyes focused enough to see that it was also open! My pack cover is blaze orange, and I will use it during hunting seasons, even if it isn¢t raining. I will add a blaze orange hat during deer season in North Carolina and Georgia on the last sections of my hike.One of the more foolish things I¢ve ever done on the Appalachian Trail involved a man with a gun. In May 1998, I hiked northbound from Harpers Ferry. Maryland was very pleasant, but starting at the Mason Dixon Line, I endured 18 straight days of rain, cold rain, until I descended Mt. Minsi into Delaware Water Gap and the sun finally came out. There were occasional severe thunderstorms and sometimes drizzle, but mostly a good soaking rain that just never seemed to end. In Duncannon on the Susquehanna River, I briefly met the first northbound thru-hiker of the year who bought a few groceries and hiked on. I waited until after lunch to leave, and on the climb up Peters Mountain, I was caught by another thunderstorm.  On the ridge line, the AT crosses a commuter highway, PA 225, on a pedestrian overpass now, but back then, it crossed at grade at the bend of a hairpin turn offering no visibility of oncoming traffic. With the thunderstorm, I couldn¢t hear traffic and was nearly hit, only adding to my dampened mood. Peters Mountain Shelter is on a loop trail. As I approached the rather large shelter, I saw two things. One was the hiker I had met in Duncannon cowering in the far back corner of the shelter. The other was a man standing out in the rain ranting and raving and waving a handgun around. He was dressed in denim jeans and a cotton work shirt, not hiking garb. If I had not been so ill-tempered because of the rain and being nearly hit by a car, I might have done the prudent thing, and retreated down the shelter trail and continued on to the next shelter, abandoning the poor thru-hiker to his fate. But I was majorly pissed and walked up to the crazy man, and somewhere deep within me found a voice of authority and said, ¢Put that thing away; you¢re scaring my friend.¢ I remember being surprised at my voice because it wasn¢t my usual soft-spoken manner at all. At any rate, the crazy man shut up, put his arms down and walked off into the rain. We never saw him again, and I had a new best friend for the next several days.