A Day in the life

My alarm goes off at 5 am, A brutal and noisy intrusion into the stillness of the early morning. If the nights rest has been good, I wake easily. Other days I am fumbling for the snooze button for those precious few extra minutes, having been kept from rest by cold or pain. The few hours before dawn are often the coldest and my body seems to sleep lightly in these hours, my head tucked deep into the giant red quilt I made hastily before leaving.

I endeavor to keep a tidy tent but occasional night fumbling can send things into a world of chaos, my few possessions rummaged through at night in panicked search of a headlight to ward off some advancing animal or to inspect what sounds alot like expensive fabric being gnawed through by sharp, rodent teeth. You awake easily when you sleep outside, almost like you are still listening acutely despite your sleeping state. 

I eventually peel back the quilt and, if I’m worried about falling back asleep I’ll undo the valve on my air matress, if not I’ll enjoy those few moments of comfort as I begin to pack things away. I try not to leave the tent until my quilt is stuffed away, my pad deflated and rolled up and things generally ready to be packed into my backpack – a custom built 40L roll top made for myself in the days before leaving, one of three being tested on this trail this year. It’s doing very well. I like the patina of age and miles that show on it already – a few puncture wounds from the desert and an ingrained filth that tells of its long, hard and dusty journey through the New Mexican state.

Something happens to me when I go on a long hike: I become extremely regular. From the moment I awake I am fighting the urge to go and vacate my bowels immediately. This can be very inconvenient and sometimes adds unwanted excitement to my morning routines – Have you ever tried bending over and digging an 8inch deep hole with a tent stake in the early morning light whilst trying not to soil yourself? It’s a fun game that you nearly always win. The penalty for failure is, frankly, severe.

Enough about that. 

If I’m not too desperate I’ll have put my pot on to boil water for coffee and when I come back it will be bubbling nicely. Otherwise the pot goes on whilst I take down the tent, packing each item into its set place in my pack. I can and do do this in the dark. If it’s raining the tent comes down last, that way I can keep the bulk of my things dry as i eat breakfast, and then lastly stow the wet tent on the outside of my pack.m

Breakfast is a changeable affair but largely it’s two Peanut Butter tortilla wraps with fresh coffee, I gain a good 800 calories here with the added bonus of a largely indestructible breakfast item. Second breakfast,  to be consumed within the first hour of hiking, is a packet of Pop tarts, some 400 calories of crumbly sugar coated goo. I will only eat the chocolate schmores flavour, they seem trail hardy and robust and not too sickly. Nutritionally I’m sure they’re pretty moot, but at this point I just need sugar. I’m about to drag my tired aching joints over 20-30 miles of mountainous desert terrain. Fuel goes in, miles go out.

Once upright and packed up I ready my pack for the day ahead. Theres normally at this point at least 10 items scattered on the floor awaiting use. A toothbrush and toothpaste, sunscreen, the maps for the day, my lunch items and my snacks, a baseball cap and sunglasses. The night before I get my snacks ready – Normally two bars of some kind and a half pound sack of trail mix, a homemade mix of nuts, raisins and M&Ms that I can devour at handfuls throughout the day. My hand never goes into the big bag, I decant from big bag to small bag the evening before. This way my somewhat grubby hiker hands don’t pullute this most precious resource. I can and do eat literal sacks of this stuff.

Now I’m ready and it’s time to shoulder my pack with a heave and a groan and set off in hopefully the right direction. This sounds daft but I have gone the wrong way on more than one occasion.

My destination for the day may be some 25 miles away but right now all I am thinking about is water. If I haven’t camped right by a source  I will probably have only a litre or two to get me to the next. I’m not normally worried, I can hike 10 mi in the cool of the morning on just a litre. Once 11am hits things start hotting up and, if I’m running short there will be an urgency to my step. It’s all about water. Everything is dictated by it. I hope I’ll get there soon. 
It’s always a good idea to take a break at water, that way you can “camel up” and drink freely while you rest and filter more for the rest of the day. A good way to take advantage of water without having to physically carry it.  Some days you are carrying water for 20+ miles but normally there are options sooner. These might not be what you, at home, might consider palatable sources (a few cow troughs come to mind!) but they are my lifeline. It’s amazing what you’ll drink when you have no other choice. This isn’t a choice, it’s a necessity that you will quickly die without, so I’ll remove the floating, dead, jellified lizard and drink long and deep, thankful that whilst this water may have had a dead lizard in it (or three!) just moments ago,that it’s otherwise cold and clear and at least not got cow shit in it. Those are the options, generally speaking. Dead animals, funky algae growth, cow shit and piss or, occasionally, crystal clear well water that brings a tear to the eye with its taste and clarity.

I will normally walk for 3 hours before my first break (or to wherever water is) until I eat lunch some 5 hours after starting walking. I should, on a good day, have put down some 12-15 miles by now, leaving a casual 3-4 hours to walk in the afternoon at whatever pace I choose to get the day’s  miles in.

Lunch. I’m a big fan of lunch. My mainstay is cheese. Cheese and crackers, cheese and bread, cheese and tortillas, but always cheese. Basically the cracker is just a vessel for me to get cheese into my face without feeling guilty about eating just cheese on its own. Luckily most cheeses in America are of an industrial grade that makes them mostly inert and quite trail hardy (you must always double bag) I go for pepper jack with jalapeƱos to find something with some actual flavour. 

I will aim to drink, where possible, a litre of water at every major break in the day and at lunch I mix powdered lemonade which is, you guessed it, another load more sugar. This serves two purposes, one being that I have never got bored of the flavour and the sugar is an absolute treat and two to cover up the taste of cow shit.

I take all breaks with my shoes and socks off, an important ritual that helps with the surprise development of blister (holy hell! how did I not feel that!) amongst other things.

It’s also good to air your feet and attempt to dry/de-dust your socks. This dust gets everywhere and the stuff that’s filtered through shoe and sock is the finest. Attempts are made to tape and bandage various wounds but the heat and the pounding of walking is guaranteed to cause most remedies to fail. If you can find a rock to elevate the feet on even better. I use my backpack lying down, straps facing up, as a back rest and a section of folding foam as a butt pad. It’s almost my most treasured item and 4oz I am oh so happy to carry!

So now it’s the afternoon miles. These always take longer than the morning miles as impromtu breaks happen more often as the pressure of milage is off and I am generally more tired. I stuff ibuprofen into my face every 3-4 hours throughout the day, not for its analgesic qualities but to control the inflammation of various struggling tissue groups in my left knee, an injury I aggregated inattentively losing my footing some weeks ago.

I check my trail mix, if I’ve a load left I’ll wait until a flat easy stretch and try to Polish it off. This stuff is heavy and densely caloried, you don’t want to build up an excess nor do you want to eat it when walking  uphill whilstout of breath as you will surely die choking. 

Depending on the next few water sources I will endeavour to camp either at water or halfway between two sources. 6-10 miles away is the optimum for the morning as 3L will get me through the night and to the next source. 

Sometimes if I camp beyond water I will fill up everything to capacity, just so I can have a luxurious abundance of water, a camp wash or possible laundry (this is, again, very relative, I put water into a zip lock, insert socks or underpants (never both together you animal!) And agitate until the water looks gross whilst intermittently wringing them out) this is a good practice for socks and the weight is good training for the masisve snow gear weights i will have to carry through the San Juans in Colorado. I’m quite a big guy and the load I carry is proportionately very small compared to my size so slinging a gallon and a half into the pack and walking for another hour is nothing too strenuous, although not something I will recreationally pursue. 

I like these last miles of the day. Once I have water I can camp anywhere and I like the absorption of looking for the perfect spot: flat, sheltered from wind, away from critter tracks and hopefully beautifully located. 

Occasionally I will listen to music if I am especially tired but, for me, the alienation from my surroundings this provides is generally too much, preferring instead to let the chatter of the forest or the wind in the grass lead me through these final miles. If I am listening to music it will almost always be at the end of the day as I utilise beats and rhythm to motivate stubborn and sore limbs. It’s a remarkable remedy. 

Once I find a camp, the tent goes up first. Always. The sleeping pad is inflated (personal record is 12 breaths), the sleeping bag hung out to air, my pack emptied into a semi organised pile and then I will sit. If water needs to be got it can be hung to filter before the erection of the tent, otherwise this time is my own. I read, write my journal, analyse and pick at my feet, wash, figure out the bear danger and work out how far I should cook from my tent so as i dont make myself smell any more delicous (never as far as you’d think but always the opposing direction to the water, if nearby). Whilst cooking, I look at the following days walk, analysing water, milage and elevation, scanning the maps for route alternates and potential issues.

Dinner. Mmmmmm. I try and keep this varied week on week. Alot of hikers eat just Ramen noodles, a packet noodle that costs mere cents and can supply 140% of your rda of sodium in two packets. I eat these on occasion and they’ve got me many thousands of miles.

There are many options available: couscous, quinoa, Mac and cheese, pasta sides, rice sides etc. All can be cooked by boiling the water, adding the product, bringing back to the boil and then letting sit. I have a pot cosy made out if shiny bubble wrap for this. I have alot of time out here, but I will eat it crunchy if I’m hungry! 

Add to this either beef jerry, salami, a good glug of olive oil or grated Italian cheese and you have a 1000kcal pot. Nomnomnom. 

Washing up is done with a finger and some water, the pan scraped clean first and the liquid drunk to a) avoid making your campsite smell like dinner and b) to maximise calories. I’m a grey water drinker. Yep. That’s me. 

During dinner I drink another litre of lemonade (mmmmmm lemonade) and afterwards I graze on cookies and chewy sweet candies for desert.

Now everything not directly in use gets packed into my pack.  Food bag, stove and anything smelly or chewable gets stuffed in and packed away, propped up in the tent door. I brush my teeth and now it’s time to ease my aching body into the tent and experience the wonderful feeling of lying down, for the first time in the day my body and spine wonderfully relaxed and uncompressed. The feeling is exquisite and I can ride the high to sleep. Sometimes I’ll lie there debating picking up my kindle, knowing if I pick it up I will be asleep within minutes. I enjoy the feeling of just lying there, thinking about potentially reading. Most of the time I flick my headlight off , roll over and pass into a deep and untroubled slumber. 

I need my rest. In just eight or so hours I will get up and do it all over again. 

The pursuit of purity.

Hello all! I’m walking into Grant’s, NM and typing this to try and get my head away from the throbbing in my feet, the heat from the road and the infernal logistics of trying to be a pedestrian in a town built exclusively to service interstate 40. From where I walk into town (right by a dirty Mcdonald’s!) to the motel where I hope to sleep is 3 miles. All of this is on unshouldered highway  with 2 or 3 lanes of fast moving traffic in each direction. Those three miles in this journey of three thousand, I can almost guarantee, will be risky, scary and entirely forgettable.

There are trail purists that will aim to get complete and continuous footsteps from one border to another and good on them. I have aimed to do this on each of my previous hikes and ALWAYS I have failed somewhere near the end, be it for logistics, fire, river crossing or some other unforseen circumstance. Initially the gap bothers me but after some time I cease to care. I spent 5 months walking the PCT and because I had to miss 13 miles owing to a fire closure, does that make the other 2662 miles that I walked invalid? 

I love to look at a map, or even a GLOBE, and think of all the land I have covered on foot since my 21st birthday, some 9000 miles and counting now. It gives me more satisfaction than anything else I could have spent that time and money doing.

However, these trips come at a cost. My friendships and relationships back home, wherever that home is, are continously put on hold. As a result I can feel lonely and isolated but, being out here has taught me to deal with that too. That’s a cost I can cope with.

Last year two PCT hikers were killed in the name of purity,  mown down on a highway trying to walk around a fire closure. This seems to me to be an unjustifiable cost for the sake of maintaining a continous path. Not all roads are unwalkable, some, like the one I’m  on now, are lovely, some, however, are definitly not built for pedestrian travel and pose a risk to both pedestrian and driver.

 I would like to keep hiking until I die and, when that time comes, I am happy to die being eaten by a bear, being mauled until pulpy by a mountain lion or falling into some yawning chasm. If that happens, it will have been on my terms, at a location where I chose to spend my time because of its beauty and wonder, a place that has moulded and guided not just my life, but even the lives of those I have met over he years. I’d obviously be horrified to die under such circumstances, I, like most people, would like to live forever.  But to die in the pursuit of beauty has a rather nicer ring to it than getting blutered flat by some inattentive truck driver. 

I have hiked highways, hell, the Te Araroa in NZ was almost all road walking. I know exactly how it feels to walk on a hot, paved road, being intimidated by trucks and vehicles that don’t know how scary it is to be passed at high speed with inches to spare, walking for miles and miles with no access to fresh water through endless trash and accompanied only by the stench of rotting road kill. I must have close to 800 miles of road walking behind me and, do you know what? I don’t specifically remember any of it! So, with that in mind, if anyone wants to give a ride from the north end of grants to the motel six then please get in touch, I’ll be the tall smelly hiker in the once-blue shorts with a half eaten McDonald’s in one hand and with his thumb out.