I write this from the cement patio floor of a frat house at Dartmouth College. This is completely irrelevant to the proceeding post- but how could I not mention that?

You know that uneasy feeling you get when some significant stage in your life is nearing its conclusion? Maybe you’ve experienced this during your senior year of high school, or college, or before moving to a new city or leaving a job, or the end of a meaningful relationship. You’re still in the midst of it, but once you let your mind wander just a little bit forward in time, you can sense the end. I call this “Last Lap-itis”.

I have a severe case of Last Lap-itis.

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You should definitely pay attention to this post if you are:

1) Planning on doing any sort of extended backing packing trip in the future, and

2) A sweaty individual

You can still pay attention if you are only one or none of these things, but you have less to gain (other than a sense of superiority over Badger).

So in the “Rolling with the Rocks” post, I lightly detailed some of the longer term physical ailments I had been battling. Admittedly, I had underplayed the degree to which I was suffering.

Starting in approximately mid to late May, when northern Virginia was hit by an unseasonable heat wave, I really learned that the Appalachian Trail is a three season sport. The temperatures during this stretch got into the mid 90′s, with the heat index (the feeling outside according to human skin) reaching into triple figures. Although it has cooled off a bit since, our average day has been in the mid to upper 80s.

A little biological background on Badger: I am a sweaty dude (I think it’s all the hair?). After going for a run, I have been questioned on multiple occasions if “I had just jumped into a pool, or something?” No. I perspire the same way I do most things in life, excessively and intensely.

So what happens when you put a 30 lb pack on a professional perspirer, tell him to walk up a mountain, and the outside temperature feels like 100 degrees? Funny you should ask- I will tell you.

Well for starters, a hospital visit.

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Goodbyes are hard.

I bring this up because today is our last installment of Free Stuff Friday. After this weekend’s contest- we must say goodbye to awesome free Hi-Tec gear.

But fear not- you still have a chance to win this week, and right now is the only time we will ever have.

And this week is a special edition of the caption contest. This week is the make a WHOOP! laugh edition. WHOOP! is like a Rubik’s cube. Only Will Smith can figure him out.

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Many of my posts attempt to paint broad strokes of life on the Appalachian Trail. Whether it be the social dynamics, the concept of trail magic, or the personal growth that comes from a few challenging weeks- I have a tendency to try and place all events into a larger, overarching theme.

But not every event on the trail fits under the category of a challenge, learning lesson, or cultural oddity. Some days- are just days.

And some days- are just good days.

Allow me to paint the picture of a good day on the Appalachian Trail for you.

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It’s the greatest day in the history of the week. Yes- Free Stuff Friday. I apologize for the lack of sleep you got last night. Santa comes but once a week (for four weeks).

This week the awesome Hi-Tec item to be won is the Total Terrain Lace (pictured below).

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It’s that time again. The time where we give you some awesome Hi-Tec gear simply for being funny (aka Free Stuff Fridays).

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Lets play a visualization game, shall we?

Close your eyes and envision outer space just moments after the big bang. What do you see? Chaos, right? Some gasses are spinning off in separate directions while others are pulled together due to their gravitational force. That is until another wave of hot gasses ruptures through and breaks the converging mass thus creating a whole new series of smaller sets of gasses as well as other converging masses. The only constant- is change.

Now, replace “hot gasses” with “smelly hikers” and you have accurately grasped the social construct of the Appalachian Trail. Actually, the proper term would be “smelly hiker with hot gasses” (the AT is pretty much a symphony of farts- yes I found it necessary to inform you of that. Blame yourself for ever reading this site).

Prior to departing for the AT, I had imagined the trail to be a cluster of static groups marching north from Springer Mountain, Georgia. And in the early stages of the trail, this is exactly how it worked. Most hikers either come out with another person/multiple people or quickly attach to those within a near proximity, not unlike the way you would make friends on the first day of school. Groups would form to relieve the anxiety of not having to walk through the cold, bare woods by your lonesome. Early on, it wouldn’t be uncommon to witness groups of up to eight people stroll into a campground at a time.

Slowly, however these groups started to break into smaller divisions. The 45 year old school teacher had less in common with the 19 year old stoners than she may have originally considered. Or – the super competitive, army vet wanted to push out big miles while their soon-to-be former hiking companion was slowed due to a series of small nagging injuries. All of a sudden the grouping by proximity philosophy started to prove impermanent.

Soon group dynamics had more to do with common interests and hiking pace. The recent college grads looking to do 22-mile days seemed to find one another. So too did the retirees. Groups of 6-7 now were in clusters of 2-4.

And then eventually, the concept of “group hiking“ breaks down as we know it. Although it’s not unusual for hikers to arrive to a common destination in groups of 2 or 3, the day of the static group is over (with few exceptions, of course).

It is at this point you might hike with the same person for three days, split apart because they needed to stop into town to pick up a mail-drop, only to run into this person two weeks later and resume hiking as if you’ve never separated.

It is at this point you have likely camped underneath the stars by yourself- multiple times.

It is at this point you have likely gone a full day without seeing another human being.

It is at this point in the hike, the AT cliché “hike your own hike” has really taken precedence.

To the reader at home, I understand that the concept of hiking/camping alone for a few days might seem terrifying. I assure you however, that it is not. After a few months of living in the woods, the woods become your mental concept of home. A tree becomes the norm, while a building, road, or artificially scented human being is what stands out as unique. Now, you feel no more uncomfortable walking through the mountains by yourself, as you would have felt sitting on your couch watching TV by yourself just a few months before. We have turned into feral creatures.

But still – you might be thinking, “maybe hiking alone isn’t that bad, but I would still prefer to hike with someone else.” Maybe you would fall into this small subset of people who remain with the same familiar faces. Odds are, however, that you would eventually feel otherwise.

The alternative to “hiking your own hike” is essentially, “to hike someone else’s hike”. This could require forcing big miles in the face of severe fatigue, deviating into the nearest town when you have more than enough supplies to get to the following, or taking it easy on a day where your energy level is screaming 25+ miles. For a few days, or even a few weeks, this compromise may be worth the social security. Remaining with the same person/people for 5-6 months and working around their schedule arouses a level of annoyance meant to be reserved only for those in the institution of marriage. The AT, in large part, is about finding yourself – which is hard to do if you’re living on someone else’s terms.

Collectively, what the social dynamics have evolved into, is a community of independent spirits. Often we are still pack creatures enjoying each others company, but our long-term loyalties are tied only to ourselves.

Finding peace in times of solidarity, I believe, is one of the true benefits of this journey.

Do you like free stuff?

Of course you do. I do too. All humans do. It’s coded into our DNA. It’s what separates us from chimps.

You know what’s even better than free stuff? Free useful stuff.

And that’s why you could be in store for a good ass day (figuratively, not literally – I’m sure your butt has 7 good days a week).

Badger’s official AT footwear and outerwear sponsor, Hi-Tec, has been generous enough to hook you guys with some useful free stuff.

I know- pretty damn sweet.

Here’s how it works:

Each Friday for the next four weeks, I will post a picture from the trail. In the comments section below, you provide your comical caption. Each week I will select the funniest submission as the winner. That’s it.

Also- I will announce the winner on the Good Badger Facebook page- so be sure to “Like” the page. You don’t have to actually like it, that’s asking too much. Just click the thumbs up button at the top.

This week, the awesome item up to be won is the V-Lite Altitude Max WPi (pictured below).

And here’s this week’s photo.

Insert Funny Anecdote

Make Zach LOL below (please use an active email address so I can contact you). The winner will be announced on Monday.

Get some.

It was early February of this very same year. My mom, along with one of her long time friends, had come to visit me in San Diego.

Over lunch, we began discussing my upcoming, seemingly insane adventure of an entirely inexperienced camper going into the woods for a half year backpacking trip- covering the length of the East Coast.

My mom’s friend asked how I thought I would respond to the trail’s more challenging moments. A very fair question, and one I had spent the previous two months wondering myself.

Quickly my mom interjected, “you know Zach, if you end up hating it, there’s no shame in leaving the trail early. There’s no good reason to force something you don’t enjoy upon yourself.”

At this point in my life, any response other than the one I had just received from my mom would have been a major surprise. She wants nothing more than for her kids to be happy, comfortable, and above all, safe.

That’s why I knew my response to her would cause alarm.

“You know what the weird thing about this trip is? I hope parts of it suck…I hope parts of it suck beyond belief. If I come out of this without any struggle- I don’t think I will have received the full experience. I will have missed an opportunity for growth. To answer your question I look forward to the trail’s challenges.

Fast forward to June 17, 2011

The day began with stiff joints and sore muscles. Not uncommon following a 27 mile day, especially one covering some of the rockiest terrain experienced on trail thus far. Fourteen hours of backpacking doesn’t exactly leave much energy in the tank for the necessary stretching or care taking. Upon rising I was immediately paying the consequences. As I sat up in the crowded, mini-shelter (known to be the home of a nearby Copperhead Snake as mentioned in the trail register), the swollen feet pain was immediately met by the realization that I had scheduled another 24 miles for myself today. ShitFuck.

As is usually the case- a few miles of walking tends to numb any sort of pain you were experiencing to start the day. Today was no exception. I’m no doctor, but I’m guessing that the human body eventually gives up on sending pain signals once it realizes the individual is too stubborn to alter their behavior accordingly.

Before leaving the day’s first resting point- we note that the next spot to get water is 12 miles away. This span- would involve 85 degrees of direct sunlight and what appeared in our guide book to be a pretty serious climb- at least by Pennsylvania’s standards. I load my pack up with 4 liters of water (almost 9 extra lbs) to prepare for the upcoming stretch.

Upon crossing Lehigh river it was quickly apparent that this climb was not only steep and into a looming dark sky, but the terrain was a sheer rock face, rendering my hiking poles useless.

(the iPhone wordpress app doesn’t allow me to rotate an image. Get your shit together wordpress)

Much of the ascent was so intense that I had to throw my poles ahead of me because climbing required the use of all four limbs. A misstep or faulty rock meant a steep fall and a very bloody Badger. Add 40 lbs onto my back and a heightened state of alertness became an involuntary response.

To my surprise, I summit the mountain without breaking my face open. Because this particular stretch is so rocky- there are very few tress to obscure my view of the awesome lightning storm happening to the mountain range just to the west. I just hoped it was moving in any direction other than towards me.

I wasn’t so lucky.

As the lightning storm moved closer to me – and my metal hiking poles – my pace began to increase. It wasn’t until I hit the rocky descent that the rain and lightning really intensified. Perspective was gained that what I did on the way up the mountain was more challenging than it was dangerous. Now I was hopping from wet, jagged boulder to wet, jagged boulder with lightning striking in all directions of me. This was more dangerous than challenging- and still very challenging.

Before I know it- I’ve reached the gap (the bottom of the mountain). The whole experience was so intense it felt like it couldn’t have lasted longer than 30-45 minutes. In reality- I had just covered 5 miles- in just over two hours. Apparently time flies when you’re about to die.

….

This is just one challenging day of many in the recent past.

Add to the above that I’ve been battling pretty severe headaches for over a week (enough so that I made a hospital visit to be tested for Lyme Disease) – a near constant battle with Mosquitos, ticks, and gnats, and a brutal heat wave – and, well…

I got what I was asking for.

This stretch has “sucked beyond belief”.

Well, at least, it should have sucked beyond belief.

Despite all of the elements going against what would be considered “perfect”- I’ve managed to keep a clear, appreciative mind-state (at least relatively so).

I’m learning to roll with the punches- whether the punches be rocks, lightning, dehydration, or parasites. The woods have a way of keeping perspective. A perspective that life will deal to you what it will – it’s up to you to decide how these elements are perceived.

I perceive a life of walking in the woods. What more could I ask for?