Month: August 2013

After 2 weeks off the trail (that felt more like 4+ weeks), I’m getting back to hiking today or tomorrow!

I stayed in Burlington VT until last Friday. Then I took a bus back to Boston and have been at home in Sudbury since then. I’ve been a real couch potato, with the excuse of resting my knee. Apparently, I excel at being lazy because I think my knee pretty much recovered on its own. I went to the doctor, where they took x-rays and concluded it was tendonitis due to overuse. I also went to physical therapy and got some stretches to do. These appointments didn’t really do much–basically the conclusion was rest will help and to not overdo it, both things I was aware of on my own.  

I did a practice hike, or more like walk, with a full pack and I felt pretty good. The downhills still hurt my left knee a bit, but nothing as terrible as it was. The uphills and flats feel fine on my knee, which is also a huge improvement. When I start back up, I’m definitely going to listen to my body better and stop if my knee starts acting up again. But I have a big sturdy brace that will also hopefully help.

Also, GOOD NEWS! The boys have been hiking the Long Trail this whole time I’ve been sitting on my butt, which means they aren’t two weeks ahead of me like Shuffle is. I’m going to pick up exactly where I left off (I considered skipping a section, but that would drive me crazy and I don’t know when I’d be able to come back to do it). Totally without planning it we are going to be right around the same place at the same time. They are going to be hiking their last section of the long trail where it coincides with the AT right around the same time I’ll get to that intersection. As much as I like to call them annoying, I must admit I miss them and will be so happy to see them again! They are apparently suffering some shin splits so we will all be cripples together. And band together to catch up to Shuffle who must be almost through MA by now.

Highlights of my time off the trail include, but are not limited to: going on a chocolate factory tour, accidentally third wheeling a first date between my brother and a girl, reading a book (!! this was a luxury I’ve missed), getting to witness the social media aftermath of Miley Cyrus’ colorful performance, almost getting a babysitting job in Burlington, seeing friends I hadn’t seen in months, finishing my friends’ leftovers and making the waitress react with “Wow, I’ve never seen anyone finish the entire French Toast before,” being home to celebrate my dad’s birthday with him, eating Chipotle AND Five Guys as one meal.

I stayed another day and night in Rutland but my knee continued to hurt. When it first started hurting it was just when walking downhill, but now it hurts walking even on flat ground or uphill. It’s impossible me to walk at a normal pace or without limping and without pain. I don’t know what’s wrong but I’m hoping it improves with some time off from hiking. In order to avoid paying $20 a night to stay at the hostel, I had my brother come pick me up and bring me two hours north to stay with him in Burlington. I’m so grateful he doesn’t mind me staying with him and even drove to come get me. It would be a very different (and worse) situation if I had to stay in Rutland. I’d maybe be a cult member by now.

It’s Tuesday now and I haven’t hiked since last Thursday. My knee hasn’t improved and still hurts with every step. I don’t know what it could be since I’ve never had knee problems and didn’t fall or do anything to injure it. I started taking the antibiotics for Lyme disease just in case and am hoping that is the issue and my knee improves. If not, I probably will go to the hospital here or may have to go back to MA to the doctor where my insurance will cover it.

I’m doing the best I can to stay optimistic. The AT has definitely already changed me as I’m way more patient about my knee than I would have been previously. That’s not to say I’m happy about all this though. It’s really tough to not know what’s wrong and when, or even if, I’ll get better. It’s been such beautiful weather and it pains me to take days off when I could be hiking. I don’t have a time crunch but its tough not to feel pressure to get hiking as each day spent in Burlington not hiking will be a day spent hiking in the cold weather come November. It’s also tough because I’ve been looking forward to hiking the AT for so long. Hiking and overcoming the many challenges of the trail has been my focus for so long, but now I face an unforeseen challenge that I can’t just will myself to push through. I can’t control the situation so I’m doing my best to just rest my knee and enjoy the beautiful city of Burlington and time with my brother. Hopefully this will end up being just another bump in the road ill later look back on and be proud of getting through. So for now, I’m on an indefinite break but will hopefully get back to hiking as soon as possible.

The next morning Brenna and I finally met the notorious Dan Quinn, owner of The Barn. He lived up to our high expectations and was so welcoming, energetic, open, and selfless. He’s the best. Seriously, him and Betsy, the trail angel we stayed with in Hanover are my new favorite people and I want to be like them slash live with them forever. After chatting with Dan and the other hikers who had stayed at his place, Neon set off for her long 23 mile day. I got a ride with Dan into town so I could figure out what I was going to do.

After much debate, I decided the best idea would be to get a ride to Rutland so I could see a doctor. Dan had offered to let me stay as long as I need (and for free, bless his heart) but I figured the smart thing would be to get my knee looked at. Rutland is a much bigger town and would have more options of hospitals and doctors, at least from my brief research. My next task was to get to Rutland. It was about 30 miles and a 50 minute drive from where I was but all on VT 4, so I set off on a hitchhiking adventure. Dan, once again proving his greatness, made me promise I’d call him by noon no matter what to check in and gave me a big hug before I set off.

This was the first time I was hitching alone so I was a little nervous but promised myself I wouldn’t get in a car if I felt at all uncomfortable. Anyway, people usually see a girl hitching alone and immediately get worried a crazy person will pick her up so they’re more likely to stop to prevent that. It took about 20 minutes for my first ride and he took me to the next town of Bridgewater. My next ride took another 20 or so minutes and he could only take me about five miles up the road. However, he dropped me off literally right across the street from the Long Trail brewery. I had a moment of debate but in less than 30 seconds had decided “when in Rome” and ventured into the brewery for a quick and delicious Imperial Pumpkin beer. With that extra energy, I was ready to get to Rutland. I shortly found a ride that took me the rest of the way, from a guy that drives 185 miles to work to restore covered bridges everyday.

Once in Rutland, I walked, or more like hobbled, over to the hiker hostel. The hostel is called the Yellow Deli and we’d been told by many northbounders that its run by a cult. More on that later, but my initial impression of the cult was largely
Favorable. I asked if there was public transportation to the hospital and the man looked at his watch and declared it was leaving any minute and to follow him and he’d hold the bus for me. He ran through all these back hallways as I hobble ran behind him and we caught the bus and he even paid my fare for me.

Vermonsters (my term for people from Vermont) are all super friendly. The bus driver acted like he was my personal chauffeur and told me not to worry, he’d be back to pick me up and he hoped my knee was ok. And my new fellow passenger friend from the bus walked with me to the ER and sent me off with similar well wishes.

The doctor and hospital i went to was not very good. The doctor barely even examined my knee and only asked a few questions. He basically said some things he could prescribe me and asked my opinion and what I wanted. I don’t know, you’re the doctor! I left with prescriptions for Lyme disease antibiotics and Vicodin. He didn’t even test me for Lyme disease, as the results would take a few days. Not a helpful visit. Earlier in the day, back at the barn, a fellow hiker named Lost took a look at my leg and gave me much better advice. Lost was a medic in the army and deserves a blog post of his own to describe what an amazing person he is. He’s been through so much, including being blown up and run over, and a machine keeps him alive yet he hasn’t let this stop him from hiking the AT. Please take a second to read about him: http://www.outersports.com/blog/tag/danny-kennedy/

Anyway, Lost told me he thought I have ITBS (not IBS as neon joked) and that my IT band in my leg was hurt but would get better after a couple days of rest. He gave me some stretches that might help. Frankly, he did a much better job that the doctor in Rutland.

I waited for Shuffle and Neon to arrive back at my cult-run hostel. Shuffle texted me saying the boys spontaneously decided to hike the Long Trail and so wouldn’t be coming to Rutland. The southern section of the LT coincides with the AT and they split at Killington, from which the LT continues north to Canada. The boys were getting a ride to the northern terminus and hiking down to the intersection of the LT and AT, adding on an extra ten or so days. I was sad I wouldn’t see them but also glad they are taking advantage of every opportunity to do fun and awesome things. And if they take extra time, perhaps I would see them again soon since I’d be resting for a few days anyway.

Back to the cult. That’s a rude term I suppose. They are a small religious group called Twelve Tribes that has many “communities” around the US. They own and run a deli and hiker hostel in Rutland as a source of income since they don’t have “normal” jobs. The women all dress modestly in long skirts and loose blouses and the men all have long hair they wear in small buns at the nape of their neck. Just looking at them it’s very clear they are different. They all live together and also have a farm an hour from Rutland where they grow their own food to eat and use in their restaurant. They dont really use technology or read newspapers and I was absolutely shocked to find out one member said he didn’t know who was president of the United States until a couple weeks ago. What!

They celebrate their Sabbath (which is Saturday) on Friday evenings. It’s free to stay in the hostel on Fridays and they have a big celebration with singing and dancing and they feed all the hikers dinner. This Friday was SO crowded with hikers. They said it was the most people they’d ever had since opening the hostel seven years ago—44 hikers. They provided modest clothes for the women to wear to the celebration. The celebration was the most surreal situation. I felt like I was in a movie. When I told people I was staying with a cult, nearly everyone’s response was “don’t drink the kool aid”. Well, first thing that happened once I took my seat in the circle for the celebration was an older man brought me over a glass of iced mate tea. I hestitantly took it to be polite and only sipped it once I saw that cult members were also sipping it.

The celebration began and all the community members began singing and dancing. Some played instruments: a drum, the according, guitar, a flute and there were so many small children who already all knew the many dances that they performed in the middle of the circle. Eventually they invited hikers to the middle of the circle and taught us one dance step by step. When I set out to hike the AT I never thought I’d find myself dancing to a religious song with 44 other hikers surrounded by cult like community members. It was actually a lot of fun. Then we had adelicious dinner and the community members spread themselves out with at least one at each table of hikers. Over the course of my two days there I asked so many questions about the community. Cults are so fascinating to me so I had to restrain myself so as not to be rude (or I guess also so I didn’t appear to be over interested and a potential convert). That night, Brenna and my last night together, we went out on the town of Rutland. It’s the biggest town on the trail at 60,000. It was a weird experience going to an actual bar, especially since said bar had a fog machine.

The trail magic continued when, two miles after leaving the shelter, we came upon a cooler of snacks and sandwiches and even s’mores supplies. We sure have been lucky lately. After where the trail magic was, we had another six miles to the town of Woodstock and then another six to where we planned to stay for the night, a place called the Cabin on the top of a mountain that was supposed to have beautiful views.

Unfortunately, soon after leaving the area with trail magic, my knee really started bothering me. It slowed me down to a pace that was slower than even normal walking speed. The downhills were the worst, with each bend of my left knee causing excruciating pain that had me screaming out loud and practically in tears. Neon and Shuffle were so comforting, slowing their own paces so I wasn’t walking alone and not even showing the slightest bit of annoyance. I hate admitting or showing pain so I was trying my best to push through but this was unlike any pain I’ve experienced before. What upset me most though was that this was happening when brenna was with me. I just wanted to be able to walk with her and enjoy the day but this was really putting a damper on that. Somehow I pushed through the six miles, very very slowly and arrived in Woodstock to find that Cool Blue and Wolf Bird had waited for me. Again, I’m so lucky to have such great hiking companions.

We’d heard about delicious pies a woman sold in Woodstock so we ventured to her store to check it out. There was only one left, blueberry peach, and four of us split it. It was amazing and a great distraction from a tough morning. The boys were anxious to get going to hike the next six miles to the cabin (I don’t blame them since they’d waited an hour or two for me) and the pressure was on for me to make a decision. I could push on to walk the next six miles, but that was basically committing to walking all the way to the next town or Rutland, 23 miles from where I was. On the other hand, I could stay in Woodstock (a guy right next door to the pie lady lets hikers stay in his barn for free) but that would mean splitting from the group, and also that I’d have to figure out what to do about my knee–stay in Woodstock or try to find a way to Rutland or something else altogether. I was so conflicted and wanted to push on so badly. I hate giving up and always strive to push myself but after much internal debate I had to listen to my body and decided to stay in Woodstock where we were for the night.

Brenna, who is an amazing friend if you didn’t already glean that, didn’t hesitate in staying with me. This would make her hike the next day a huge 23 miles but she didn’t even bat an eye. Even though I told her it was fine if she went (and I would have been fine) it was nice and comforting to have her with me.

We’d heard great things about The Barn, owned by a guy named Dan Quinn who all hikers seemed to universally agree is an amazing human being. Dan wasn’t home when we got to Woodstock but leaves his doors open so we were allowed to use his bathroom and kitchen. Brenna and I hitched the couple miles into town so I could get phone service to look up doctors in Rutland. We also got some beers and ice cream and nachos and some much needed relaxation time while in town. We hitched back–a woman stopped for us, found out she wasn’t going our direction and left, then three minutes later came back and took us anyway (and was an awesome and adventurous older lady who’d hitched across the country and done tons of international hiking in her lifetime). Once back, we set up our pads and sleeping bags in third story of the barn and chatted sleepover style for over an hour until we drifted off. I awoke in the night to a terrible skunk smell, which I originally thought was my own stench. But it got stronger and I think a skunk had snuck into the barn somehow and sprayed right near us, but luckily we weren’t actually directly sprayed.

From Hanover, we had three or four days walking to the next town of Rutland VT, where Brenna would leave me, hitching back to where she first met up with me. The first day out of Hanover was great. The difference between the trail and terrain in Vermont versus in New Hampshire was amazing. Where New Hampshire is mountainous and rocky with steep descents and ascents, Vermont is full of gradual hills on wide smooth trails covered by a bed of pine needles. And green. Just miles into Vermont, I noticed so much more green around me (hence the name Green mountain state) and loved the open fields sprinkled with wild blackberries to devour. Not to mention the idyllic farms with big red barns and rolling fields all around. It’s not a surprise I fell in love with Vermont immediately.

I should mention that since Neon joined us, we’ve experienced the most trail magic we’ve encountered yet. First, while still in NH we stopped by Bill Ackleys house. He lives 0.1 miles off the trail and provides free ice cream bars for all hikers. He wasn’t home when we went but he leaves his back porch and freezer open so I helped myself to three ice creams. We came across an empty cooler of trail magic on another day which was disappointing but also exciting because it was the first time I’d even seen a cooler of trail magic (present or not) on the trail. Another morning we came across a cooler of beers and sodas and even though it was 8 am I enjoyed that PBR chilled by the river. Yet another morning we came across more sodas. The amount of trail magic was insane–there are so many kindhearted people helping out us hungry hikers.

About 6 miles out of Hanover, we passed through the tiny town of West Hartford. We stopped in the general store, which also functioned as a post office and restaurant, and enjoyed freshly made sandwiches. Neon also convinced the boys to pack out beers to spice up the day. They each got twelve packs (they are crazy clearly) and after much peer pressure from the three of them, I set out with six beers. I was so full from lunch I didn’t want to drink any but beers are heavy, so my main mtviation to drink them was to lighten my load. We had a lazy day hiking the relatively easy rolling hills and sipping our beers. Hiking with Neon has been entertaining because since she is going the opposite direction, she keeps running into people she knows. It seems like every person we pass is someone she’s met before so it is like a social tour for her, surprising them by going southbound and then stopping to chat and catch up. She must have stopped to talk to at least 30 people and that’s just when I was hiking with her. It makes me realize how many more northbounders than Southbounders there are. If I had been the one to go the opposite direction I’m sure we would have passed far fewer people and I would have known no more than ten or so.

The last four point something miles of the day seemed to drag on FOREVER so we were happy to finally get to the shelter, me especially because my knee, which has been sore recently, was really starting to bother me. We hung out with some northbounders brenna of course knew at the shelter and went to bed.

The completion of Mt Moosilauke marked the end of the Whites. With the Whites and southern Maine behind me, that meant I’ve completed one of the most difficult, if not the most difficult, sections of the entire Appalachian Trail. I was so excited to have successfully done so and even more excited because getting out of the Whites meant I would see Brenna soon.

Brenna is my college roommate who is hiking the trail Northbound. She started in April and even before she began we were trying to figure out where we’d cross paths. Way back then I (very) roughly estimated that itd be in Hanover NH. It turns out my estimation wasn’t far off at all. We probably would have passed right around Hanover. However, Brenna, trail name Neon, had the brilliant idea that we should hike together for a few days. This meant one of us would have to skip a section of trail to come meet the other and hike in the opposite direction for a bit. Neon, being the braver and more experienced hiker, hitched from Rutland VT up to Warren NH with a fellow Northbounder, Surfer dude. Neon and I had texted about a couple road crossing we could potentially meet at but didn’t set a concrete place and time before I lost phone service after Moosilauke. So after moosilauke I knew I’d see Brenna soon but had no idea exactly where or when.

The day after Moosilauke I finally got phone service and received a text that neon had sent saying she was at one of the road crossings. It was five miles ahead of where I was but I had no idea if she was still there or had hiked on. I got so excited at the thought of seeing her that I sprint-hiked as fast as I could to the road crossing. At one point I did two miles in thirty to forty minutes rather than the usual hour so that shows the extent of my excitement. Unfortunately she was not at the road crossing when I got there. I figured she must have hiked on. At a road crossing further up I discovered a note she had left me saying she didn’t know where I was and the name of the shelter she was planning on staying that night–12 miles ahead of the shelter I was going to stay at! At this rate I’d never catch her! All day I passed northbounders who stopped me and asked “Sherpa?” and then passed on greetings from Neon and that she was looking for me. I felt like a celebrity with everyone knowing who I was. By the end of the day when I got the the shelter I’d planned to reach, I talked to a Northbounder who relayed Neon had cut her day short and stayed at a shelter only five miles ahead instead of twelve.

I went to bed excited knowing I’d catch Neon the next day. I got up early at 530 and was off by 630 to walk the five miles to her. Finally I got there and we had our much anticipated reunion. It was surreal but so great to see her in the middle of the woods in New Hampshire. I was, and am, so proud of her for coming so far and being so close to being finished with her hike.

It was great hiking and catching up with Brenna and she was kind enough to slow down her insanely fast pace to hike with me. We had a good couple of days and then hiked in Hanover NH. Unfortunately the day we walked the twelve miles into town it was the worst rain we walked in, downpouring most of the morning.

The entry of the trail into town was the strangest yet. Usually the trail passes by a road near a town and to actually get to a town you hitch a few miles down the road. Into Hanover though, the trail exits the woods right at the end of Dartmouth Colleges playing fields. Then the trail follows the road through the town of Hanover, right by the college and down sidewalks, passing shops and restaurants. I felt out of place with my big pack and hiking poles passing people on their way to work. I didn’t mind all that much though because getting to town meant an escape from the rain. I reunited with Neon, Cool Blue, Wolf Bird, and Shuffle in town and we spent the day doing errands and also getting a free bagel and free slice of pizza that stores give out to hikers. Score!

We went to go do our laundry and take showers at a rec center in town. One of my (and pretty much all hikers) favorite things about town is getting the chance to clean off and clean our clothes of days of dirt and sweat, so we were really looking forward to our showers and laundry. When we got to the rec center the woman at the desk told us it was too late to take showers and do laundry. It was 445 and the door said they close at 6. It didn’t seem that late to me and upon some inquiry the lady let me know they were closing early at five “because Sherry had to go home early”. Great. Now we couldn’t do laundry or shower for another four or five days. As annoying and disheartening as this was, I surprised myself with my ability to brush it off and not let it get me down.

That night the five of us were staying at a trail angels house. Dartmouth Outing Club provides a list of locals that are willing to host hikers overnight while they are in town. We called a few and found a place to stay pretty easily. Their house was actually right on the trail, as the trail continues on a road for another two miles or so through Hanover and into Norwich, Vermont (yay for crossing a second state border). The trail angels, a couple named Betsy and Bill, had asked us to come showered and with laundry done so we felt bad showing up dirty. However, they were so incredibly kind and welcoming I almost cried. They let us shower right away and do our smelly dirty laundry. They had luxurious air mattresses and REAL PILLOWS set up in the basement for us and even gave us unlimited bagels in the morning. Not to mention, they were interesting and had plenty of stories to share. Their son had thru hiked in 2007 and the reason they have opened their home to hikers for the past six years is because a kind family took their son in when he was hurt on his hike and asked them to pay it forward. They have certainly paid it forward more than enough, hosting hundreds of hikers over the years. I know I’ve said this before but I cannot get over the selfless kindness of others I’ve encountered on the trail. Betsy and Bill are just another example of this, making a tough day a thousand percent better and inspiring me to find my own way to pay it forward.

I planned to pass through Lincoln NH without stopping. I ended up living in Lincoln NH for four days by accident. Well, I guess more like three days and four nights to be fair

Our first night we got there after hiking all day. The next day we planned to head out after resupplying, which we hadn’t been able to do since hiking went later than expected the day before. As we went to resupply, we discussed as a group and decided to take a zero so we didn’t have to rush (and Chet’s place where we were staying is essentially free so it wasn’t a huge deal). We lounged around town and even saw a movie.

The next day we slackpacked. Slackpacking is where you hike but only carry snacks and water and what you might need just for the day, lightening your load by many pounds. Thus, with slackpacking you are usually able to do more miles than you would with a full pack. We slackpacked 17 miles over the Kinsman range. The northbounders at Chet’s had repeatedly warned us it would be a very long and difficult day, taking them over ten hours. I was really nervous especially when we didn’t get started until 9. My fears were unfounded though when we easily completed the day in about 8 and a half hours. Those silly northbounders. I think the whites helped condition us so we were able to complete the day faster than nobos who have been hiking for 1300 miles more than us. We got a ride with a trail angel, Rock Ocean, back to Chet’s in his awesome van from 1982 in which he made us tea before driving us back.

The next day we planned on getting hiking again but woke up to rain and a forecast of thunderstorms all day. We had Mt Moosilauke ahead of us and didn’t want to be above tree line during storms so we decided to wait a day. We saw another movie and again enjoyed the amenities of town.

Finally the next day was nice and sunny and we left what had become our second home at Chet’s place. The climb up moosilauke was much easier than expected. Northbounders warned us the trail was insanely steep and basically up a waterfall. There was even a sign saying tragic results would occur if you weren’t an experienced hiker. However it was not any steeper than other mountains in the whites and turned out to be a beautiful climb up to the top. It was an interesting experience simmering moosilauke because I’d climbed it solo on Memorial Day weekend as prep for the AT. It was snowy and there were freezing wind chills when I last came up. It’s crazy to think where I was in life then versus now. It was only a few months ago but I was in what feels like a very different place and mindset. Not to mention I had nervous thoughts and anticipation about the AT swirling around my head when I climbed moosilauke before but here I was doing what I was so worried about and it was going wonderfully. I took a photo at the sign at the top to compare to the one that is my blog ID photo. It may not look it but I’m already a changed person from the one back in may.

Other happenings in Lincoln were that I got to see several familiar faces. My brother, Ms Devon Bonney, and Mr Kyle Connolly all drove miles out of their way to come see me in the tiny town of Lincoln. With each of them i got a quick meal and we caught up, nothing too special, but their visits made me so incredibly happy. Each of them are starting exciting new journeys in their lives and it was great to be able to hear about it. I can’t thank them enough for taking time out of their busy schedules to come see me and brighten my journey, leaving me smiling a week later.

Wrote this a few weeks ago:

At least once a day I think to myself, “I can’t do this.” Not a I-physically-and-mentally-can’t-go-on-and-need-to-quit “i cant do this.” Rather its more of a its-so-uphill-I’m-tired-and-would-rather-be-in-bed-watching-Netflix-with-a-big-bowl-of-ice-cream “I can’t do this.”

This thinking isn’t exactly negative. It certainly isn’t helpful but it’s not me actually not believing in myself. It is more of a realization and acknowledgment of the difficulty of what I’m doing. Hiking the AT isn’t all pretty views and connecting with nature. Sure, that does make up a part of it. But then there are the less glamorous aspects. Being sweaty and dirty and smelly and having to trudge through mud and strain up relentless uphills and joint destroying downhills. Dealing with rain and being freezing cold or burning hot. These aren’t meant to be complaints, rather the challenges I face that lead me to have that inner dialogue that says “I can’t do this.”

Lately though, that inner dialogue is changing. I still get tired and frustrated and think, “I can’t do this.”

But now there is an additional aspect. A little part of me follows up the “I can’t do this” with a challenge. A rebuttal: “yes you can”. I think about how I thought the same thing yesterday and the day before but managed to push on. And by the end of those days it really wasn’t so bad after all. I got through it.

So now when I think “I can’t do it” its becoming more of a ugh-this-is-really-tough-and-I-don’t-want-to-do-it-right-now-but-ill-get-through-it-I-got-this “I can’t do it”. I think im slowly on my way to changing that cant into a can. And to me, that’s worth something.

I realized I never explained what trail names are or how I got mine so this will be that much delayed post. Trail names are just what they sound, the names thru hikers go by on the trail. No one goes by their real name (with the exception of Peter who was pretty resistant to the idea of having a trail name). I don’t know many people’s actual names. Instead, hikers either assign themselves a name or are given a name by other hikers. If a hiker names themselves, they usually start the trail with that name and it has personal significance. Cool Blue falls into this category–from day one on Katahdin he introduced himself as Cool Blue. I didn’t even know his real name until like day five. The name Cool Blue comes from his camp where they had nicknames so he decided he also wanted it to be his trail name. Shuffle named herself too but did so after a couple days on trail.

Others get named by other hikers, sometimes against their will (and sometimes the names stick and sometimes they don’t). For example, originally Wolf Bird wasn’t Wolf Bird. During the 100 mile wilderness Thorny tried to name him Big Cheese due to his bringing a giant two pound block of cheese on the trail when everyone else was packing as light of food as possible because we had to have ten days worth. Wolf bird was somewhat offended by the name and resisted it. The name Wolf bird later came about when we heard a loon one night across the lake. He claimed it was a wolf while others argued it was a bird and then somehow wolf bird developed and it stuck.

I was given my trail name, Sherpa, during the 100 mile wilderness. I kind of accepted it even though it was the first name and didn’t have a hilarious story, mainly because I was worried I’d get an embarrassing name. Thorny gave me my name after we bonded over talking about Nepal. I studied abroad there in college and he’d spent a good amount of time trekking there and we talked of all the places we’d been and how much we loved it. Also, Sherpa is relevant as I am carrying a pack up mountains across long distances like Sherpas do. Unfortunately I do so with much less grace and ease than actual Sherpas. So that’s how I got my trail name. I like it because its simple and reminds me of a place that has had a profound impact on my life.

Some trail names are hilarious. Today I met a Mr Gigglefits. Others are somewhat inappropriate, like the group termed Stoners with boners. Either way, pretty much everyone has a trail name. It’s unclear why they exist. We argued about if it was to allow you to establish a new identity on trail or to avoid confusion with common names or even for safety in anonymity. I’m not exactly sure what the reason is, but Sherpa has definitely become a real name to me–I haven’t been called Julie in weeks.