Tag: Appalachian Trail

Lost in the Woods

On By Cathy NoiceIn Cathy Noice2 Comments

Before I headed out with my boyfriend Roy on our short but steep section hike on the Appalachian Trail (A.T.), I had read a few books and listened to several YouTube videos about hiking the A.T. Between going off-trail to relieve yourself to heading down the wrong trail to just not paying attention, you can end up getting lost in all the information. So many options! I figured that the odds of getting lost on our journey were slim to none since Roy was a veteran, having hiked 531 miles of the A.T. (yes, he is a bad ass). We were also only going to be on the trail for two days, so how lost could we possibly get?

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Being lost is relative. Being lost is not being sure of where you are in relation to either your hiking partner, your pack, or the trail you “thought” you were on. I can’t tell you I was ever actually lost on the trip, but I know I definitely felt lost several times. Perception is reality and there were many moments where I wasn’t sure where I was.

This is what I learned about being lost in the woods:

Plain sight

Water is essential for life. On day one of our hike, I was clambering across a slide of fallen trees grabbing onto roots above for dear life, when one of my two water bottles fell out of my pack. It slid down about 10 feet off the trail into the slide area. Roy and I looked at it for a bit. Roy thought about taking off his pack and going after it. We weighed our options and, although it was in plain sight, the downside of retrieving it was too great. We had three bottles of water remaining between the two of us. Although it was in plain sight, it was lost.

Wrong trail

After we found the shelter we were going to camp nearby for the night, we hung our packs in the shelter and went off to look for water. Before arriving at the shelter, there were some double blue blazes indicating a trail to either water or another destination. There was a sign at the top that read: “Wesser Creek Trail.” The guide book had indicated that there was a water source within a tenth of a mile of the shelter. Somehow, I had confused “creek” and “water”. We headed down what seemed like a six-inch-wide trail. I was glad we didn’t have backpacks on as the trail was precarious. There were several switchbacks and a few blue blazes, but no indication of water. I was exhausted and just wanted to get into my sleeping bag. I felt guilty for having lost a full bottle of water earlier. Roy soldiered on for a few more switchbacks, but by now, we had gone at least a half mile more and the shadows from the trees were lengthening. We gave up and started hiking back up to the shelter. As I contemplated not being able to find water and what that might mean, we ran into a young guy running (yes, jogging shorts, t-shirt and no pack) on the narrow trail. We asked about the water source and it was down the main trail (white blazes) about a tenth of a mile. We may have been on a trail, but it was the wrong trail. Creek and water are not the same.

Naked

No. I was never naked. Meaning, I was never without clothes. But when we went down the Wesser Creek Trail, I felt lost from my belongings. When I thought we were venturing off for 10 minutes to find water, I wasn’t concerned about being without the pack. As we went down our precarious detour, I started getting nervous about our packs hanging in the shelter. They were hanging so that mice would not get into them. There was a warning about bears in the area. I started to get anxious and concerned that when we arrived back at the shelter, that there would be a full-on party of bears and mice tearing our packs apart. Had I left anything uneaten in my pack that would attract bears? After carrying all my earthy things all day, I felt naked without the pack and nervous that we would be stuck in the woods overnight without our things. We arrived back to the shelter to find everything intact. I felt lost from my essentials.

Separation

As we descended down the mountain on the second day, we started to get warm as the sun came out. We stopped to take off some of our layers and Roy decided to change into shorts. About a quarter mile down the trail, Roy realized he didn’t know where his cell phone was. He headed back up the trail to see if he dropped it when he changed. I stood and waited. He returned. No phone. He realized that it might be in his sleeping bag located in the bottom of his pack. I decided to head down the trail while he unpacked. I knew his pace was much faster than mine and I didn’t want to slow us down. I soldiered on down the trail. Pretty soon, I couldn’t see any white blazes marking the trail. I started to panic. I turned around to walk back up the trail. I started yelling for Roy. I figured that he should have caught up by then. As he arrived down the trail, the white blaze appeared again. He confirmed that I should have turned back to make sure I was on the trail. For those five to ten minutes of separation, I felt lost. Without my hiking partner and white blaze to guide me, I felt lost.

The hike is a great metaphor for life. Things may be in plain sight, but you can still be lost. You may be temporarily lost, on a detour, down the wrong path, but you can still find your way home. You may feel lost from something you feel is essential, but you still have you. You may be separated and unsure of your next step; it just might require doubling back. The greatest gift from the experience is that regardless of where I thought I was or wasn’t, I could rely on myself to find my way out.

Hike Your Own Hike

On By Cathy NoiceIn Cathy Noice1 Comment

Hike your own hike (HYOH) is a term used frequently in thru-hiker and section-hiker circles. It was a new term for me, up until I actually got out on the trail in late October. Until about six months ago, I had no idea what thru-hiking, white blazing, or yellow blazing was. It was all foreign to me. By the time I was on the trail, I understood it all much better. To actually meet some thru-hikers and section-hikers on the trail gave more clarity to the whole experience. It also brought into focus that I needed to HYOH.

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There are three main thru-hikes in the United States. The Pacific Crest Trail (from Mexico to Canada on the west coast), the Continental Divide Trail (along the Continental Divide from New Mexico to Montana) and the Appalachian Trail (from Georgia to Maine). To complete all three hikes is called the Triple Crown. You can head northbound or southbound on the trail (most people head northbound) and there is something called a flip-flop, when you get off the AT in Harper’s Ferry and head the opposite direction, so maybe Georgia to Harper’s Ferry and then Maine back to Harper’s Ferry. There are all sorts of variations on the flip-flop as well. White blazes are the markings found on the AT and blue blazes mark either scenic bypasses to denote a waterfall or occasional detours around bear-infested areas, fires, or other torrential weather. To yellow blaze is to “cheat” and take a ride via a vehicle to bypass part of the trail. These are examples of basic terminology used by the community of thru-hikers and section-hikers out there on the trail.

This is what I learned about HYOH:

Do not compare

This is the essence of HYOH and it is SO hard to get your arms (er…) head around. On the day my boyfriend Roy and I headed out on the AT to Wesser Bald Shelter, I was constantly comparing myself to those we met on the trail. At about 3 miles in, we met a group of guys, with maybe nine of them coming down the trail in the opposite direction. They were affable, stopping to chat, everyone seemed in lock step; as if they were on a Sunday stroll. I was panting. Out of breath. And hoping I wouldn’t fall off the trail and that they could squeeze by me on the switch back. Later, there were what looked like twin eight-year-old girls bopping down the trail in matching fuzzy jackets with two women in their mid-thirties, presumably one being their mother. I was thinking, what Hampton Inn did they roll out of this morning and how the heck are they going to navigate that slide down the trail that I lost my water bottle on. As you can imagine, this was completely unproductive. Comparison is soul crushing. It just doesn’t matter where you are on the trail compared to others. Let them hike their own hike and you can hike your own hike.

Do not envy

I’m guessing that we met about five groups of people hiking the opposite direction on a Sunday. Odds are that their end destination was the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC). Our endpoint was a shelter no where close to civilization. No running water, no king size mattress, no heater. They were most likely headed to a car or to a room at the NOC. I was headed into the great unknown of sleeping outside in a tent and in a sleeping bag; this coming from someone who had never been out in the elements. I was starting to envy these folks headed back to a known reality. They were all headed downhill. We were headed uphill. In reality, I had absolutely no idea what those folks were up to or where they were headed. Envying them of a warm bed had nothing to do with my hike. It was just a buzz kill. It was deflating. Don’t envy others. You don’t know what their destination really is, let alone their journey.

Lift up your head

Initially, I was surprised that I had to be completely present for the entire hike. Every step mattered. In fact, you have to be hypervigilant. All I would focus on, outside of the random passerby and Roy, was the trail beneath my feet. Every root, rock, leaf, and branch. Every white blaze. Walking through what is referred to as the Green Tunnel, I had to actually stop and lift my head to take a look around. To look at the autumnal foliage, to take a picture of flowers alongside the trail, to look out at the view from the knife’s edge of a ridge. This gave me renewed gratitude for walking in my neighborhood. I don’t need to be vigilant for a random root or slippery rock. There were countless times when my hiking shoe got hooked on a random root. The struggle to stay upright was life-affirming; it shines a light on stopping to lift up your head and look around. Observe the beauty that is the trail.

You are where you are

Roy told me, during what felt like a two-mile plus journey during the last mile of our first day, the last mile is always the longest. There were no mileposts. On places where I had day hiked, like Fort Macon, there were mileposts every .2 miles. I was used to knowing where I was and the progress I have made. It is reassuring. On the A.T.? No such luck. We may have scrambled on rocks for 20 minutes and I would feel like we had made a half mile of progress. However, scrambling over rocks only moves you a few feet forward. Not all portions of the trail are created equal! Some are smooth, wide and straight forward (which is rare); some are narrow, winding and covered in boulders, meant to be scrambled over with your hands and knees. At one point, on the second day, I had been going downhill and I was exasperated. I knew that there was a landmark shelter somewhere on the trail. I asked Roy, “Where is the f$%#ing shelter?” I am not proud of my exasperation. My knees were aching from all the downhill, I was past all the challenging parts we had dealt with on the way up, and I had camped outside and peed in the woods. I was sweaty and tired and all I wanted was to have a sign we were close to our destination, the NOC. I wanted a chair and a hot cup of coffee. The thing is, there was no escalator, moving sidewalk or Uber to pick me up. Regardless of where you are, you are where you are. Relax and take one step at a time. One stiff foot in front of the other. Anticipating where you want to be isn’t helpful. Be OK with where you are right now.

Backpacking on the A.T. is life-affirming. To complete a section is an accomplishment, regardless of whether or not one thru-hikes the whole thing. Experiencing hoisting everything I need on my back, and looking only three feet in front of me brought me back to myself. It didn’t matter what was going on in the world. What mattered was right in front of me and I had renewed self-assurance that I could accomplish whatever I wanted to take on. The key to it all? Hike your own hike.

Discoveries from My Walk in the Woods

On By Cathy NoiceIn Cathy Noice, Workplace NavigatorLeave a comment

Taking a casual walk in the woods can seem mundane enough. There shouldn’t be much to it, one would think. Simply put: one foot in front of the other. When it comes to walking in the woods on the Appalachian Trail, you might think it’s pretty easy. The trail extends from Georgia to Maine and crosses 14 states. More than 2 million folks hike a portion of the trail each year; a much smaller percentage complete the approximately 5,000,000 steps required to complete the entire trek. Well, if 2 million folks can survive a piece of the A.T., so can I.

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I haven’t backpacked since I was at Camp Merrowvista in Ossipee, New Hampshire. Deciding to leave the comforts of a Hampton Inn and venture out overnight into the woods was nausea inspiring. I was nervous. Thoughts rushed through my head. Maybe I was too old. Maybe I was just too klutzy. Maybe I didn’t have the staying power to make it back to the starting point. Maybe we needed someone to meet us at the end with the car and refreshments. I am obviously writing this, so we all know I survived. But the venture educated me as to my abilities. And it truly was a life affirming challenge.

Here are my discoveries from my walk in the woods:

Roots

I have hiked in Utah, New Hampshire, California, New Mexico, and Oregon. I have never seen so many roots in my life while on the A.T. In lower elevations between 2,000 and 4,000 feet, the entire trial felt like a web of roots. When we started off on our 6-mile trek up to Wesser Bald Shelter from the Nantahala Outdoor Center, I was immediately struck how lumpy and bumpy the entire trail seemed. This was in stark contrast to my training ventures on the sandy trail Roy & I hiked out at Fort Macon, North Carolina. The problem you ask? Roots get wet. Roots are slippery.  Roots catch the toe of your shoe. Roots blend in under a coating of fallen leaves.  Roots are uncomfortable to sleep on. And roots can be handy when the trail evaporates to rocks for places to grab onto. There are roots on the A.T. Roots can be obstacles but sometimes they are the way only through. Grab hold.

Rocks

I have seen rocks before on a trail.  In Arizona and New Mexico, there is a lot of scrambling on rocks when you hike. I did not expect to be scrambling on rocks on the southern A.T.  I had seen enough Youtube’s on the White Mountains and the 100-mile wilderness in Maine to know that the Northeast had plenty of rocks to scramble.  I did not expect them on my hike to Wesser Bald Shelter. When you see a white blaze on a rock (there are approximately 165,000 over the entire A.T.), you know you will be scrambling. I managed to scramble down on my hands and knees. I drug my butt down steep slabs. I adapted body movements to what I believed would help me survive. Rocks on the A.T. are not just in New England. It’s best to embrace them as a challenge. It doesn’t have to be pretty.

Dirty

You are likely thinking I am naïve….or nuts when I say my next statement. I did not expect to get dirty while on my walk in the woods. I planned on staying upright and strolling through the autumnal trees. You know, an afternoon stroll. When we came upon a section of the trail that seemed to disappear under a slide of fallen trees, leaving only roots and a slab of rock visible, Roy made his way across by holding onto the roots of the trees above. There was a sliver of footing for Roy. I had no idea how I planned on getting across. I remember thinking, “I’m not grabbing onto a root; it’s covered in dirt.” I remember Roy telling me to grab the root. I reached out grabbed ahold. There will be dirt. In retrospect, this was completely irrational to think I would not get dirty on the A.T. or that I wouldn’t have to grab onto a dusty, muddy, dirty surface. Or even that the rain pants I wore on the first day wouldn’t have mud splashed on them. I’m sure you won’t make this mistake, but I did. You will get dirty on the A.T. It’s like stomping in mud puddles as a kid. It’s freeing to let go and get dirty. There will be a faucet, eventually.

Leaves

We were on the trail the last week of October. The leaves were about to peak in color. There was a ton of leaves on the ground. There’s a lot to be said about observing the Fall beauty from a distance as opposed to being an active participant. The first day of the hike, they were soggy and wet. This is an optimum surface for sliding regardless of your shoes. I slipped. I would catch my breath and slow my pace. The leaves are a mask for what lies beneath. It’s a handy cover for the roots and rocks that lurk beneath. You never know what is lurking below the surface. Day two of the hike, brought wind and sunshine and the leaves mounded up higher. They were beautiful but still camouflage for what lies beneath. If you hike in the Fall, there will be leaves and hidden scary things.

Animals

I could not believe that as we were four miles into our hike, I saw a tiny orange snake skitter into the leaves as I was scrambling up rocks. That I didn’t panic, and backtrack ten yards is beyond me. I don’t like snakes. I’ve had an irrational (OK, maybe it is rational) fear of snakes my entire life. Somehow, I just kept going on. I was amazingly calm. “Roy, there is an orange snake.” He wanted to see but it had slithered beneath some leaves. I guess it could be a copperhead, but I kept on my walk in the woods. Later at the shelter, there was a warning about black bears. Roy suggested I not read the warning. I didn’t. He later told me that the warning was about bears foraging in the area. Roy put all our food in a bag and put it up on the cables provided. I kept imagining those bears grabbing our bear bag and taking all our food as I recalled Roy recounting a story about a couple who lost all their food to a bear. I started “catastrophizing” about losing all our food and praying I didn’t smell delicious as I tried to sleep in our tent. It’s amazing what you can hike and sleep through, if need be.

Wind

The wind was howling through the night as we camped. The moon was glowing and all I could see were the leaves’ shadows from the tree branches swaying in the wind. I imagined a branch breaking and landing on top of us in our tent. The trail the next day was covered in small branches and leaves that took flight. I was just thankful it wasn’t rain. I’d rather be hiking in wind and sunshine than rain and lightning. It’s amazing what you are thankful for when walking in the woods.

The elements dictate the outcome. You have no control over the elements. Surrendering to control over what surrounds you is the way. I discovered that on this journey. It may have only been twelve miles but learning to let go is transformational. It sure was for me!

Beginner’s Guide to Backpacking on the Appalachian Trail

On By Cathy NoiceIn Workplace Navigator6 Comments

This is actually the over fifty’s guide to backpacking on the AT. For me it’s actually a guide to returning to the woods after forty plus years. I have hiked a multitude of places, from Mount Saint Helena in Napa, California, Tent Rocks in New Mexico and Machu Picchu in Peru. None of those hikes were with a twenty-pound backpack. They were all day hikes; rather like a scenery stroll. And they all ended where I was sleeping comfortably in a cushy bed with running water, a flush toilet, and a solid roof over my head. The last time I had a backpack on was when I was at Camp Merrowvista in Ossipee, New Hampshire and I was sixteen years old. Things have changed. More importantly, I have changed.

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My boyfriend Roy attempted hiking the entire Appalachian trail in 2015. If you are unfamiliar, this is no small task. It can take upwards of five to seven months to complete the 2,190 miles from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Mount Katahdin, Maine. Roy made it 531 miles before a medical issue derailed his attempt. This brought me to wanting to experience the allure of the trail.

Here are my findings:

Water

This is a whole different ball game when it comes to backpacking versus day hiking. Though towns are close to the trail, it isn’t the point to hike and drop back into civilization. There aren’t handy convenience stores, faucets, or water fountains out on the trail. Carrying five to ten days of water is not feasible. Roy bought me a Sawyer Mini Water filter about a month before we went backpacking. I threw it in my closet and figured I’d be carrying my water with me. Nope. Water is the heaviest item you are carrying, so you should try and keep enough for one day. Make sure you know where the springs or water sources are along the trail. It’s not like a road trip, where you can stop off at the next exit to refill on water and use the restrooms! We had several empty water bottles to help filter from our bladder bags when we refilled at a water source on the trail. We were fortunate that the water source was a cistern on the trail versus a spring along the trail. It would have been a process and a lot more time consuming to retrieve water from a natural source. Sawyer filtration systems are very easy to use and are highly recommended by practically every A.T. thru-hiker. Don’t leave home without a water system at the ready and located water sources.

Guide

I was fortunate to be guided by a seasoned hiker like Roy. He knew that we needed the most recent A.T. Guide Northbound 2018. Roy had ripped out the page we needed for our hike. It showed the elevation, the location of the shelters, and water sources along the route we were taking. If we didn’t have the guide, it would have been impossible to know where the next water source or shelter might have been. You wouldn’t go on a road trip without a GPS or paper map. Make sure you have one that is most up-to-date before you head out. On the A.T., the white blazes on the trees and rocks are your guide. However, there are blue blazes (indicating a trail to a water source or shelter) and double white blazes (indicating some type of change coming up, such as a fire road crossing) as well. These indicate when you are off the main trail or if there is a change coming up. You might wonder why you need the most updated guide for the trail, but there are changes each year as trails become rerouted due to damage or are remeasured by volunteers. In contrast, my previous day hikes were trails that were heavily marked with frequent mileage indicators. The A.T. has very few signs, so the guide is invaluable when heading out. I found it frustrating, in retrospect, that I didn’t know whether I had walked a half mile or not. Most day hikes have a lot more signage with progress indicated along the way. It would be very easy to get lost rather quickly if we didn’t stick to the white blazes.

Clothing

My daughter Natalie is an experienced backpacker, as is Roy. Both kept warning me about not having ANY cotton clothing on the trip. Cotton will absorb sweat like a sponge and will not properly insulate. Boy, am I glad I listened. I opted for everything to be nylon or polyester, except for my wool socks. I tried a few shirts on that were merino wool but that particular material irritated my skin. In my practice hikes, I tested out several sets of shirts and pants to make sure nothing rubbed against my backpack. I cut every tag off every piece of clothing that I took with me. I get aggravated by anything rubbing against my skin. I didn’t want to be looking for a pair of scissors two miles in. I had a total of three (yes, three) jackets. One rain jacket for rain and wind. I started off the hike wearing a jacket since it was 40 degrees and windy at the start. I also brought a fleece jacket, which I changed into once the wind died down, as it was still cold. Finally, I wrapped myself in a puffy down jacket at the actual campsite since I was no longer exerting myself as much and needed to retain my body heat. I had a base layer under my hiking pants, which I kept on the entire trip to stay warm. The only thing I didn’t wear that was stored in my pack was my extra underwear. So my entire list was three pairs of wool socks (one for each day hiking and one pair to sleep in), two pairs of underwear, one short sleeve shirt, one long sleeve shirt, rain paints, convertible hiking pants, base layer pants (long johns), sports bra, bandana, buff, wool hat, cap, fleece jacket, rain jacket and down jacket. My advice is to try them all out with your backpack in different temperatures and weather conditions. Being as comfortable as possible is key.

Food

I figured that I would be starving the whole time we were backpacking. I’m not sure if it was nerves or exhaustion, but I ended up not eating that much. We had some peanut butter crackers, trail mix, and oatmeal bars. I think it’s easy to overthink and over-carry on food. We probably brought back about half as much as we started with. But gratefully, nothing went wrong on the trip. If we had been stranded for some reason due to injury, we would have needed all the food. We cooked a rice package for our only dinner on the trail and didn’t even bother cooking the ramen we brought. Having a hot cup of tea at the end of a daylong hike in our campsite was restorative. Coffee, the next morning, when it was 38 degrees was important as well. There is something about a warm beverage that makes everything feel better. Before you head out, make sure you’ve tested your burner and cookware. I’m not sure I would have been able to figure it out on my own in the waning light of day. Warm food makes a huge difference out on the trail.

Light

I had a light attached to the end of a cap for my entire trip. I knew where that hat was whether it was in the tent, in my pack or on my head. We hiked at the end of October and the sun was setting around 6:30 PM. I did not want to be stuck hiking, eating, finding water, or unpacking my sleeping bag without a light. It was critical to be able to see at night, especially when trying to go to relieve yourself. There were warnings about black bears in the area and being aware of my surroundings was critical. Have a light and know where it is always.

There are more must-haves like a backpack, tent, sleeping bag, and air mattress. Trekking polls were invaluable as well. If you take anything away from this at all, test out everything you are planning to take with you in as many ways possible. You don’t want to find out five miles into your trip that your hiking shoes are uncomfortable, your backpack is too small, or that the tags on your clothes won’t stop rubbing your skin. When you head out backpacking, you have your entire life on your back. Thankfully, we only went out for a two-day hike, but getting the right combination of necessities can make the difference between a miserable and wonderful hike. Make sure you have the right basics for you.