Date: 2002-09-28
To: Gear and Systems - Hard Lessons
Miles today: 0.0

"When are you leaving?" folks ask.When I tell them late February, early March, they recoil. Visibly. "But you are such a cold weenie," they point out diplomatically.There is alot of truth to this. On a day with the slightest bit of chill, guess who's huddled into a blanket or jacket? I do have a narrow comfort zone, temperature wise - hey, 68 to 72 works for me! So why do I think I won't I freeze up in the harsher mountain backcountry in late February?On test hikes, I discovered three words: gear, movement and preparation.Hiking generates ALOT of heat, especially if one is hiking UP the mountain. So much so that I'm shedding clothes within the first uphill steps: hat first, then gloves. Then the vest or wind barrier (if I'm wearing it/them) is opened - or even removed. Normally I hike in shorts, even in March.In cold weather I learned how important it was to never let myself get wet from sweat. To be wet and then stop moving is a recipe for chill, and possibly hypothermia.I also learned to keep feeding the "internal fires" with snacks and good meals. A hot meal warms a body twice - once as it goes in and the as it digests.Wendy, my Gear Guru taught me to always carry my "camp" clothes in a ziplock so they they remained dry no matter what. When I got to camp I was to change immediately, she instructed, before the warmth of hiking left my muscles and I started to shiver. Shivering in the back country is a Bad Thing, Martha.Because of long miles traveled every day, thru-hikers must weigh the balance between weight carried vs. comfort/safety. I draw the line at safety. Hiking will keep me warm enough, if I stay dry and use my rain coat as a wind jacket. A heavy jacket isn't needed for the actual hiking. So I don't carry clothes for staying warm in camp, other than my dry Zip-locked ones (long silk underwear top, fleece bottoms, dry socks, a zip-neck fleece). I decided that if I started to shiver in my dry camp clothes, I needed to add my hat, vest, rain coat and gloves. If that didn't do it, I needed to get in my sleeping bag.I have two bags - a zero degree down Denali "Enigma" and a 20-degree down "Versalite" from Westen Mountaineering. The "Versalite" cost an arm and a leg, but only weighs a little over 2 pounds. I believe it insulates as well as my zero degree bag, which is a pound heavier! The advice I kept getting from experienced hikers was "scrimp on anything else but buy the best bag possible." My test hikes have borne out the truth of that. I should have gone for the best bag immediately and saved myself some money in the long run. But I didn't know then whether this backpacking thing would "take." Ha!(I also bought a 16 ounce WM "Highlite" for summer in the high country, and used that to great advantage on Vermont's Long Trail last summer; when it was warm, I used it as a quilt, when it was cold (which it was alot!), I was zipped-up toasty).Nonetheless, I'll probably start with the zero bag in late February. Bag manufacturers lie, I'm sorry, "stretch their ratings." So I suggest polling the hiking lists on which manufacturers are honest in their ratings. WM seems to understate their warmth, thus my 20 degree bag may well keep me snug at 15, perhaps even les with a silk bag liner.Yet bag rating is very individual. If your are wrestling with this decision, if possible, borrow one from a friend and give it a decent cold weather test in the backyard. Wish I'd thought of that first!I started with a North Face "Cat's Meow," a fine bag in it's own right. But don't believe the so-called 20-degree rating unless you're thinkng you'll SURVIVE in it down to 20 (and that's IN a snug tent, with a closed-cell pad underneath!). I shivered and shook thru several 20-ish nights on my first hike in mid-April. Yeah, I survived, but it wasn't an experience I care to repeat!Finally, I carry an Esbit solid fuel tablet and matches on my person at all times. If I need to, I can build a fire. Never underestimate the power of a fire to dry out, heat and cheer a body!I went out in March of this year to see, really see FOR MYSELF, how the weather might be in late winter, and to test my cold weather gear and skills. I enjoy writing up account of my hikes for friends and family. This one also deals with chronic knee pain (which I've since eliminated with a dual-action Cho-Pat strap). It also gives a glimpse of the cameraderie of the Appalachian Trail. Here is one day of that March hike:Day Four, Wednesday, March 13: Deep Gap, NC10:30 amAbout to limp into the wilderness, I am looking at a sign. The sign says:"WARNING!Bear reported to have taken packs from hikers along the trail fromDeep Gap to Wayah Gap. Bear showed "no fear." Exercise extreme caution!" - District RangerNow, if I read that like you, at my computer, I would have thought "Cool,"and moved on to the next paragraph. What happened next?But I am hiking alone today. In the deep woods. No computermonitor between me and this wild world. With a pack. This bear LIKES packs. So the sign gives me pause. I stand there, uncertain. I mean, I can't go back. There is onlyforward. But this sounds like a habituated bear, the worst kind. Rocks andcurses might not work to scare it off. And I'm not moving any too fluidlytoday. My left knee is killing me.I had heard that the unseasonably warm winter had bears leavingtheir dens earlier than normal, before the food supply was present. This bearhad maybe found a solution - Snickers-laden packs!.I think about what "extreme caution" might mean. Obviously, I willhang my food high at night. But what if approached on the Trail by such a bold creature?I try to think not like a limping, slightly intimidated lone hiker but the capable animal trainer I am. I'm not inclined to shuck my pack and bolt. "As if my sore knee wouldlet me..." Besides the obvious positive reinforcement for the bear, my currentlife is in that backpack. I NEED that stuff! I wonder if the "presence" one needs to bring to bear on certain pushy stallions would have the same "backing-down" effect on a bear. Of course, horses just eat grass; bears eat...What to do, what to do?Of course, I hike on. But first I fish around in my fanny pack for mypepper spray (...uhhh, negative reinforcement? with luck and wind direction...?), and place it in an easily accessible pocket. I also think I should pop my sternum strap open, because it's been jamming. I mean, if some bear should take my pack anyway - with me in it! - I'd like to be able to disengage from the situation. I recall the "John Wayne" scene from "La Cage Aux Folles." Ha! So for good measure, I mentally practice some serious B-movie karate yells: "HIIIIIYAH!!" Yeah! Growl from the belly! Yeah! Growl like ya MEAN it, girl!" Thank god no one can read my mind... I am hiking alone today. I like it. It suits me, yesterday's birthday pityparty notwithstanding. Pingo and Sass have bonded, two strong youngfemales, so I push them off that morning with my blessings. Frog Caller was outfrom the shelter at first light, with Grey Owl and MainFrame following. Istill cook breakfast, and am the last to leave.Very achy and tender-footed today, and I tell the girls I may notmake the shelter they plan for, Carter Gap, 12.5 miles with some hardpulls. They insist I will, but I am not so sure. My knee is stabbing from thestart, and I am thinking that this beast of burden I have enslaved - my body -is needing some rest. After all, I'm a townie, not a thru-hiker and,bad girl, I didn't do my knee exercises prior to...It is so foggy this a.m. someone got lost on the way back from theprivy. Temps are comfortable, though. As I cross the logs over the stream infront of Muskrat Creek, I am struck by the water quality. It has beenraining all night, but this water is still clear. I had been warned that thiswas a "ratty" spot, but it has been a lovely stay. A mile further on, I see a upslope "field" of burgundy galax, alow-growing plant I hear has been "poached" from certain state parks for theflorist trade. It got so bad, they say, that some innovative rangersmicro-chipped wild batches, to better catch the perps. I love the color of winter galax. The leathery, round leaves arejust starting to turn green. Red and green are intimately related ingrowing plants, in ways I don't fully understand. Bramble stems arestarting to redden as well. I look for red tips to the trees, but still see nosigns of leaf, though the buds are swelling.It's wet out, but no longer raining. Everything plinks, andglistens. By the time I get to Standing Indian Shelter for lunch, the fog has burned off and the clouds lighten considerably. I think I might stay here, asemi-zero day, and rest my knee. But it is early. I decide to eat and postpone deciding. I actuallycook a hot lunch, one of my favorite trail meals: Chili ramen noodleswith refried beans. Mmmmm, chili ramen...There is a young, goateed man there, Matt. It turns out I know himslightly from another hiking list, and also from other hiker talk. He calls himself "Second Shift" because he gets up late. "I put everything I owned in four boxes and stored it in my parents basement, he says. "Then the basement flooded, so I am down to two boxes."Good, I tell him. Everything has weight.There is another sign about the pack-stealing bear in the shelter,and I mention it. Matt hasn't seen it yet. He reads the notice. "I'd KICK thatbear's ass", says Matt, posturing. I didn't want to get into the improbability of that. "I'm sure you would," I say, "but I'm not so sure I would." This seems to satisfy something in him.He also cooks, and pulls out a heavy pyrex glass cook pot and lid."Hey! You're the guy!" I tell him. "I've heard about you!""Yeah." He says it proudly. "Someone bet me I wouldn't carry itall the way to Maine. I will. It weight two pounds." He then weighs the infinitesimal difference between my soda-can alcohol stove and his tin cat-food-can stovein his hands. "This is lighter. Maybe I'll make one," he says.Then he sets fire to a piece of paper "so I won't have to carry it." Go figure!About the time I am packing up my lunch things, the sun cracks out.My spirits explode! Sunshine is an amazing thing. Suddenly, combinedwith my hot meal and long rest, I have energy to burn. Blisters be damned!I'm moving!I am content. I don't mind the clouds, truly, but I observe myspirits rise and fall as the sun plays hide-and-seek. I make a mental note formy thru-hike: make no serious decisions in cloudy, wet weather. Onlyin blaze sunshine.The walk up and over Standing Indian Mountain is very cool. Verycool. I love the rocky feel of the place. I walk along the ridge forawhile, the wild azaleas falling off sharply to either side. It must begorgeous up here about May, it's darn near perfect in its very bareness right now. I can see the world from here!The sun goes in and out as I walk along. It is fun to look down onthe valleys and think "Oh, they have sun in that section. Oh, and gloomover there." It feels very Mt. Olympus. I am thinking "Beech Gap for the night. Time to tarp."But when I get there, I am feeling stronger. I tell you, a powerlunch is a good investment! Frog Caller is there, she is a slow walker. Itell her I am going to keep walking. She thinks she will too. "I hadn'tplanned to sleep in a bear sanctuary," she said, pointing to a sign. Thewarning must have spooked her some too.As I hike through a mossy, rhododendron gorge, stream splashingover rocks, I am aware of the slanting rays of sun. Dusk approaching. Beartime. Especially near water. As I round the blind corners of these laureltunnels, I clack my Lekis together, cough theatrically, and mentally practice my"presence:" "Hey, pack-stealing bear, I got your dinner right HERE... HiiiiYAH!".As always, I wonder in the last mile whether I have passed theshelter. Has anyone really ever done this, walked on by? I doubt so. But my mindderives pleasure from this form of torture: "This is too far... You MUSThave walked by the blue blaze... You're going to DIE out here..."Sometimes my mind does not seem to be my friend.I roll into Carter Gap as the sun is dropping, and the wind isedging up to sharpish. The new shelter full, the Sass and Pingo have hiked on,no surprise: "Fly, girls! Maine calls!" A fellow tells me the old shelter, a few hundred yards back, still has room, but I stubbornly pull out my tarp. I want to sleep in it!However, no site suits - the one has a wash, this one is toosloping - and I can't shut off the prevailing winds. Matt rolls in, disparagingtarps. He wants to "see the finished product" though, before he makes the"final assessment." I have little patience for this. I don't want to play. My feethurt. My fingers are cold, I am hungry and cranky. Ever feel likethat? I decide to bag it and let Matt have his gloat. I just want to eat.I download in the old shelter, next to a younger couple. The woman ispleasant to me, but seems angry about life in general.Later, Frog Caller wanders in, right at dark. I offer to help her get her tent up, or get water. But no, she isindependent, she has it all under control. I admire her grit. Shewalks VERY slow, yet covers the same miles. I am warming to her. Later someonemakes fun of her pace, and I snap: "She's slept in the same places as youthe last few nights, done the exact same miles!" So much d$ck-measuring and assessing everywhere, even out here. After a cold supper, I wander over to the main shelter.. It is easyto get lost. There is a campfire of wet wood. Matt is squirting lighterfluid on the fire periodically. I meet a mid-twenties couple, Tim andTwinkletoes, who wears blue velvet bedroom slippers as camp shoes. They havelittle silver stars on the toes. I am still grumpy about my tarp trials until I hear of one tarpingcouple, Wasabi and Smooth, who had a visitation from a skunk yesterday."It just marched in, sniffed around like it owned the place, thenput its paws up on the food bag like the family cat," she said. "We justkept asking it to please go away." No fear, like the pack-stealing bear. Where is Animal Control when you need them?!Someone pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels that they found on thestump in a lower gap, complete with shot glass. We think it is Trail Magicfrom a New York couple hiking and shuttling two cars between gaps. Three youngmen, Leaf, Trail Blaze and Tree-fontaine have lugged it up here to share. This is typical of the hiking spirit in the backcountry.I am suspicious of the woods-found bottle, of course; it's my German nature. Free whiskey in the woods? But after several take their shots and survive, I pour a smalldram. It warms me. My companions seem jollier. It is good around the fire.Look at the sky, someone says; we all look up, silent. Stars burn bright;the sky has faired off. No one talks for at least a minute. It is anotherholy moment, only the snap of the fire; we are here, in the thick of it.We all know it. The seed of kinship begins to swell, right here.I sleep well.