Date: 2011-05-09
From: War Spur Shelter

To: Niday Shelter
Miles today: 18.2
Weather: broken clouds

(In which I contemplate thru-hikers' sense of urgency)In the morning I meet some of the hikers from the shelter, most of whom where already ready for bed by the time I had gotten my tent set up last night. I overhear that a hiker in his early sixties with a large gray beard is named Swift. "Ah, so you're Swift", I say. "I really liked that story you wrote in the register back in the Grayson Highlands." Some of the other hikers chuckle, apparently having heard this before. "No matter what you do from now on, all you'll be remembered for is that one story", one of them tells Swift.The registry entry began, "I have met the ridge runner and fallen in love with her." It continued with his plan to woo the ridge runner and buy a trail up in Maine for her where he would only allow nice people who wouldn't throw trash in the campfire. But alas, there would be nothing left for the ridge runner to do on this perfect trail, and so she would leave. "Love is hard", the tale concluded.I learn that in addition to writing this story (which he showed to the ridge runner, who reportedly liked it), Swift also completed thru-hikes last year and the year before that. I'm not surprised by this; while his appearance would be taken for "homeless person" anywhere near civilization, on the trail his large beard and small, lightweight pack suggest experienced hiker. I ask him if he met Inferno last year and he nods. "Young blonde girl. Fast hiker." I tell him that she's my sister. "I think she was going to do a fifty mile day when I met her. And then I heard she took a week off to go mountain climbing. I'm out on the trail exhausted and her idea of a vacation from the trail is to go climb Mt. Rainier." He sits for a moment recollecting. "So few cute blondes on the trail and she went by so quickly." He sighs wistfully and then glances toward me, apologetically. "I'll leave it at that since her brother's here and he seems like a nice enough fellow." "'Love is hard'", I say sympathetically.* * *As I hike I think about the sense of urgency that tends to creep up on thru-hikers, even those like me with no time table who try to avoid any urgency. There are, I decide, several forces at work.The simplest may be that of sampling bias; when you consider only the hikers who have already hiked more than 600 miles, as all the thru-hikers around me have, you filter out a lot of the hikers who have not found an inner compulsion to continually keep moving forward. But it's more than just sampling bias, and even when I consciously try to avoid it, I find myself driven to keep hiking.One motivator is that of food. The lure of town food is strong, as is the worry of running out of pack food. You don't want to carry more food than you need to get to the next town, but that means that you don't want to ever go any slower than you expect, or risk going hungry.Another motivator is the shelter log books. Because they only tell you which hikers are ahead of you, they always make you feel like you are behind, no matter how fast you're going. Any hikers you've met who have written entries have been hiking faster than you since you last met. Any hikers you haven't met yet who have written recent entries are probably finally within range of catching after weeks of knowing only through their entries. Both cases are motivation to speed up, or at least not slow down. (I sent an online message to Lemur, whom I met way back in early North Carolina and have been a week or so behind for most of the time since, and he replied with surprise, "You're still on the trail?" As one of the faster hikers, he especially has limited visibility as to what happens behind him, and can only ever read about the people just ahead.)Limited shelter spaces are another factor. Most shelters sleep only six people, but it is not uncommon for fifteen to twenty people to show up on a given evening. When the weather is nice this isn't a problem, since at least half of the people prefer the privacy of tenting anyway. But when it's raining, or looks like it might, getting a spot inside the shelter usually requires either hiking a short day to claim a spot early (if you have enough extra food to afford a short day) or hiking faster than most of the other people who plan on staying at that shelter. Since setting up a tent in the rain and carrying a wet tent the next day is a lot less pleasant than ducking into a dry, snug shelter, hiking urgency increases considerably in bad weather.Hiking near hikers at similar paces also makes you very aware of the length of each of your breaks, since a five minute break could easily mean that someone will pass you and you won't catch up for an hour or two. Even in good weather when you have no reason to catch up, it makes it harder to take a leisurely break without thinking of how you're slipping downstream relative to everyone else.Finally, for some hikers job or school deadlines or fear of making it to Katahdin before winter provide even more concrete urgency to move quickly. Maildrops, which I have mostly avoided (but do plan to eventually set up, I swear), also motivate hikers to stick to a certain schedule.Some hikers embrace this sense of urgency and use it to fuel their personal challenge. For me, too much urgency makes hiking seem like a job, and I try to continually fight against it, difficult though it is.The best way that I've found to combat unwanted urgency is to find a nice view and relax for a bit. After half an hour of sitting and enjoying a view, it becomes easier to let go of everything else. You will meet the people you meet, and you will get a shelter spot or you won't, and none of it is worth worrying about or hurrying for.I spend an hour on Kelly's Knob, appreciating the tree-obstructed but still beautiful view, and meeting Andrew and Marshall, two Virginia Tech students taking a break from final exams to enjoy the Virginia scenery while they're still in the area. Resting in the sun, the urgency ebbs away, and once again the trail seems like a vacation. I'm out in the woods with an empty calendar and no place I have to be, and why would I want to move from this wonderful spot?