Date: 2004-05-26
To: Last night in my futon
Miles today: 0.0

This is the last night I'll spend in my futon for more than a week.    Humble and rarely made though it may be, my futon is my only comfortable sanctuary in this mad world. I have my laptop set up so I can lean over the side and browse the internet while still beneath an electric blanket. Or, if I'm feeling rather old fashioned, I can turn on the TV at my feet and try to ignore the static that comes with using rabbit ears. I also have an assortment of mostly-read, half-read and to-be-read books within easy reach and a window sill just wide enough for a cup of water or a bottle of beer only an armmstretch away. Like any other mammal, I have made my nest as comfortable as possible.      I don't anticipating sleeping much tonight. I didn't sleep much last night. I woke up around 2 a.m. Part of me (I think it's fair to say 49 percent) was too excited about my upcoming adventure to sleep; another part of me was remembering all the things I had to do before I disappeared into the wilderness for ten days. I couldn't get back to sleep until I scheduled my credit card payment online, wrote out a check for my share of the rent and left a note for my roommate reminding him to do the same, and even then I tossed about in a serotonin-hazed surreal trance before passing out just long enough for my alarm to go off.    Now, though, everything is done. I've spent months planning, preparing and conditioning for this day. I filled my backpack on Sunday night, spent Monday night repacking it and sharpening my knives, spent Tuesday night ... well, I went to a party, and tonight I tied up the loose ends and finished off all the perishable foods in my refrigerator. I'm as ready as I'll ever be to section-hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail. Big Day Coming    I wish I had started this journal sooner, but it's probably just as well I didn't. My thoughts and ideas have evolved from the cartoonishly unrealistic to the reasonable to the (at this point in time what seems) rational. Suffice to say, if I had announced my early and unresearched plans to hike the whole Pennsylvania portion of the Appalachian Trail in a week, I'd rightly be held up to ridicule by scores of seasoned hikers.   That was four months ago. I've done a lot of reading and listening since then. Ultimately, I decided I would attempt to hike from the Susquehanna River to the Delaware, over the section commonly called Rocksylvania. It's a 145.6 mile trip and I'm giving myself ten days to accomplish it. The trail average for hikers is 12 miles a day, so this plan is definitely an ambitious one. I'm not going to have the luxury of zero-days or stops in town or even to nurse my feet when they start bleeding from the punishment of the jagged stones.    That may sound likw a pessimistic view, but rest assured my attitude is one of cautious optomism. I've read other trail journals, listened to "A Walk in the Woods" on audiobook, and directly asked a few questions to the Appalachian Trail Conference. Those ATC people are great; they'll respond to your e-mails within a few hours. Basically, I know I'm not in for a Sunday stroll through spring meadows.    I've done a lot of physical training for this one. I've spent several night camping at French Creek State Park, where I recovered a lot of the skills I learned back in Boy Scouts, such as cooking over a camp stove and orienteering through thick forests. I also did a number of hikes through Schuylkill Canal trails and the Horshoe trail to build up my strength and break in my boots.   Most trying of all, though, was picking out my gear for this trip. I went through all the extremes of "Oh, I'll need a new pack, a new sleeping bag, and maybe some bags of freeze-dried Kung Pao chicken" to "do I really need a water filter? Can't I just boil up a pot every time I'm thirsty? And I've lived off ramen noodles for most of my college years." Ultimately, I field-tested my gear (see the gear page for descriptions of what I'm using. and am more or less happy with my choices, although it still bugs me I can't find my old Swiss Army knife. It's lost somewhere in my apartment and I've never had a chance to use the corkscrew. Choices Made So why did I choose this section? Why did I set out on the trail at all? Why am I going out alone? Why should anyone read this account when there are thousands of hiker stories online? I'll have to answer those questions later. I only have one night left on my futon, and I intend to relish this sanctuary I've taken for granted so often.