My AT hike turns 25!

Happy New Year!

The dawn of 2015 over Lake Saint Clair
in my home town of Grosse Pointe, Michigan.
More about this fantastic image and its creator, Mark Graf at grafphoto.com,
here at SuzanneStroh.com. (c) Mark Graf. Used by permission.

2015 will mark the 25th anniversary of my year on the Appalachian Trail.

On my birthday in late April of 1991, my dog Ben and I ate our last home-cooked breakfast, packed our gear at Locust Hill Farm in Leesburg, hitched a ride to Harper's Ferry from Burdette and Suzie Wright, checked in at the Appalachian Trail Conference HQ and set out heading south from the midpoint of the AT. The goal: to walk all 2,184 miles of the white blazed footpath in one season.

It had been a cold winter with big storms, and the ATC volunteers told me that the word from the near-starved northbound hikers was that lots of people had dropped out since taking their first steps on the AT at Springer Mountain, Georgia.

My first hump up the hill was hell in an overweighted pack, and all I remember about those first few days was a hundred blowdowns that it took hours to get under, over and around. The going was slow from the start. Fifteen miles and 6,000 feet of climbing was a big day for me back then under those 50 lb. pack weights. I don't think I met anyone in my first two weeks on the trail, similar to the tale told by The Kitchen Sink Couple. It rained 25 days in a row for the next 500 miles. Virginia was a slog. Even with Ben for company--always hilarious--I had trouble getting up and getting motivated in the morning. But I stuck to it.

Along the way, I met and read logbook entries of northbounders whom I keep track of and caught up with, later, at the base of their journey's end atop Mt. Katahdin in Baxter State Park, Maine.

I interviewed them for the film I was making, climbed Katahdin with them, then kept walking south.

Suzanne and trail dog Ben at Trail Days 1991.
Your hair grows two shades darker
under the big green canopy for months at a time.

By Thanksgiving, Ben and I had accomplished all but a few hundred miles of the AT. I got off the trail in Vermont, took a break, and completed the journey (re-covering much of the territory) in 1992.

Imagine my surprise on Christmas day when one of my thru-hiking pals, trail name weathercarrot, posted the 1992 documentary I made of that trek here on YouTube.

Most of the articulate, insightful people you meet and see in this video--like photographer Dave Fleischman and weathercarrot, whose stunning AT and PCT photography projects include this history of ALDHA, the Appalachian Long Distance Hikers Association and "yearbook" videos for thru-hikers that span every section of the Pacific Crest Trail--have since gone on to bigger and better long-distance hikes; long term commitments to selfless service as trail maintainers; and satisfying artistic careers as nature photographers. It is with real humility that I share their work and their stories with you now, because the amateurish quality of my own work (all still images!) will definitely strike you as low-tech.

Back in 1991, our heavy analog camera equipment probably took up two or three liters of space in our packs! And it weighted a ton. Our music players played cassette tapes. Short of a National Geographic production, there was no way to bring a film crew along on your thru hike. Still photography, sketches, words on paper, and the occasional voice recordings made when a sound recordist could meet us in a shelter near a trailhead...these things were all we had to make artistic sense of our adventures.

Thanks, weathercarrot, for the most thoughtful Christmas present ever. Without your patience and persistence, people would not be able to share our story.

Trail Days 1992 with Suzanne selling copies of Bill Irwin's "Blind Courage"
and STI tapes from her car in Damascus, VA. Photo: weathercarrot.

Sometime after Trail Days in 1992, my distributor's barn caught fire in Vermont, destroying every VHS copy I didn't have on hand. I never bothered to transfer the 3/4 inch master tape to DVD, because by then, the music rights had long run out under the terms of the very generous permissions I had been granted to produce the project as a not-for-profit work of art.

Trail Days 1992. Photo: weathercarrot.

A few years ago, I was contacted by some folks who wanted a copy for a hikers hostel in Pennsylvania. It was a flattering request, and today I am even more flattered to see that STICKING TO IT still seems to warm a few wild hearts.

I hope to have more for you from the AT class of '91 in the months to come. What did I read? you wonder. Possession by A.S. Byatt, word by gorgeous addictive word, using yesterday's devoured pages for today's loo paper as I went along. What did Ben eat? Mostly my supper, supplemented by the doggy GU of the day, liver powder in his water bowl, courtesy of an eccentric Virginia dogsledder (???) who ran a place called The Sled Dog Store, as I recall, which supplied us out of Roanoke. On the seven months that Ben and I slept together that year, he clearly became much more like a person (very courteously waiting before he ate the remains of my supper) and I think I became a bit more like a dog. Which I've never regretted for a moment. Amore!

I wish you a happy new year, with white blazes as far as you can see. Follow your bliss.

Trail Days 1991. Photo: weathercarrrot.

S-Clips

S-clips. You need 'em in camp.

This is what turns your vestibule into a closet, your privy into a bathroom, your cook station into a kitchen. S-clips let you hang your lamps and light your tent from above. S-clips civilize your trek. They're just the right size and weight when carabiners are too big and bulky.

The next improvement will be an S-clip with a key lock like the gate on a Petzl carabiner, instead of a notch that catches on hang loops and jackets.

Gearline Organizer by Nite-Ize

In the meantime, Nite-Ize makes a great assortment, including this s-clipped daisy chain. It's great for sitting out storms when you didn't bring a gear loft for your solo tent.

I use S-clips at home in the laundry room, too. Good value.

Rule 4: Cold? Put on a hat.

Off grid: hat city

In my last WFR recert, we looked at studies on hypothermia. I was surprised that people are losing core temperature so fast through the big muscles of the legs and gluteus.

We’ve always assumed that tights or long johns are the last insulation you need. Turns out, it’s just as important to keep your thighs and backside warm as it is to bundle up your noggin, according to timeworn principles.

As a result, you can usually find a pair of Icebreaker's 140-150 weight merino wool, 3/4 length tights in my pack on weekend trips. The temperature range is astounding. When you don't need them, you hardly know
they're there.

Mine clips into my harness, like this one

Whatever you do, never pack out without a hat. This is why I'm a big fan of hoody base layers.

But more on that later.

Portable power

For years I’ve experimented with solar rechargers for electronic devices I take on backcountry trips. Like my phone, my camera and my iPod. And sometimes my laptop, if I’ve escaped to write.

Most encased solar chargers aren’t rugged enough for backcountry use. The plastic cases always crack on trips. The utility of solar mats is pretty much limited to base camp use. When you’re moving, they just don’t work. And in spite of manufacturer claims, I find that they’re not waterproof. So leaving them unsupervised out in the open is just asking for trouble. They don’t work reliably inside a tent or in a resealable plastic bag.

So I’ve turned to juice packs for portable power.

The one I’m using now is Powerstation PRO from Mophie, and it works. You charge the juice pack at home and take it with you to recharge your toys on the trail.

At $100, it’s at the top of the food chain on price point. But if you do the math (which I had an Apple Genius help me with), you’ll find models costing a third as much just won’t get the job done. They’re basically designed for urban use when your phone goes unexpectedly dead and you need a power boost quick to make an urgent call or check texts. Travelers, trekkers, sailors, skiers, climbers, riders and beach bums want to run apps, recharge cameras, listen to audiobooks or radio and play music at dinner. One Powerstation is more than I usually need for four or five days off the grid.

This rugged, wallet-size model packs easily and weighs in under 350 grams. It reliably recharges my battery-sucking iPhone 4S four times in the backcountry in three-season temperatures. At 6,000 mAh (that’s milliamp hours), it should be able to give my Macbook one full recharge and still have power for a single phone recharge. (A Macbook battery delivers about 5,300 mAh.)

Managing juice packs, like managing power on your devices, is a nerd sport. Read the manual and follow the directions. The most important thing to remember for high performance is never to leave your device plugged into the juice pack longer than it takes to recharge.

Power-saving travel tip: run your phone in aircraft mode on trips, especially in the backcountry. Carry a SPOT tracker instead for safety—not the SPOT Connect, which saps power from your phone. And use a handheld GPS device for navigation⎯not your smartphone. This approach also gives you the benefit of redundancy. You can readily buy replacement batteries for that critical gear on the road. Worldwide. You’ll need an electrical outlet, a USB adaptor and a couple hours to recharge the juice pack.

3G coverage and apps like Packing Pro and HG2 are adding to the pleasure of adventure travel, so I predict that lightweight, portable power will only keep getting better. Get off the grid and recharge.

SPOT

PLB? This is the one you need. The SPOT tracker.

Alert 911, call for help or let people know you’re okay or delayed. On the road where cell service is unreliable. In the backcountry or on the water. Even fits in your teenage daughter’s handbag.

SPOT is the 7-oz. safety net for responsible adventurers. It’s a subscription-based PLB (personal locator beacon) service with a solid international land-based network.

I never ride or trek without mine turned on. It’s the ONLY reason my family lets me off the leash. Seriously.

Backcountry travelers: avoid the SPOT Connect, which saps the charge on your mobile phone, rendering the system useless in short order.

Now let's talk ethics.

Critics are right when they bemoan widespread abuse of this device. As a certified Wilderness First Responder, I've heard all the stories. Idiots regularly misuse the 911 alert feature, putting rescuers at risk. I’m all for SPOT, and so I’m all for adventurers paying for their own needless “rescues.”

Get SPOT, get out there, have fun and always bring fresh lithium batteries. Be responsible for your own health and safety. SPOT is there to back you up. It’s peace of mind, not a concierge service.

Naps

Naps. I never go anywhere without them.

Never needed a scientific study to tell me that naps work for whatever ails you.

Need a creative solution? Take a nap.

They can’t be beat for sheer strategic reboot value. They civilize all travel, not just adventure travel. 

What’s glamping without napping? 

When you wake up from a nap in the backcountry, something magical happens to the landscape. It looks different, it feels different, it smells different. Naps shift your perspective. 

Which is what makes them critical portable equipment.  

But as with love and epics, you have to equip yourself with the skill to nap well.

Develop your eye for a first class napping opportunity

I think I first aspired to world class achievement on the Appalachian Trail. My traveling companion was a Flat-Coated retriever. After seven months on the trail, sleeping together in my tent every night, I had become more like a dog while Ben had become more like a person. I taught him not to slurp his soup. He taught me to nap. What a pro.

The number of people who tell me, “I can’t take naps,” only proves that napping, like most things, takes diligence and practice. I’m still working towards my 10,000 hours.

Everyone has a different nap rhythm. Time of day, duration of nap, depth of sleep, ideal or even necessary environmental conditions. You’ll have to find your own sweet spot. 

Thru-hiker nap

In my twenties I learned from my best friend, a former cavalry officer, the time-honored rule taught at Sandhurst: “Sleep is a Phase of War.” Adventure napping is the peacenik version, where you exercise control over your mind and body to demand rest, healing and a change of tempo when you know you need it most. 

So get out there and keep improving your skills and honing your technique. You’ll soon find that, like most Epicurean delights, naps get even better when you do them with another person.

Well deserved nap