Project Eveningland

“We’re breakin’ free.” –Montgomery Scott

2/17/2023 Friday

The promised deluge came last night on schedule.

I had used my Trip-Sense Tent Siting Protocol (patent pending) to choose a well-drained spot, with good leaf ground cover. There were three tents at that shelter area (three people, me among them, who didn’t want to shelter-dwell and were brave enough to set up tents despite a certain, and certainly wet, forecast). Two out of three tents flooded in the night. The leaves under mine were bone dry after two inches of rain. That’s high quality tent siting.

Hiked all day with Mitch, the journeyman HVAC guy. Michigander. Only slightly coarser than me. I blew his mind with my mental math abilities. And talked his ear off about every other thing. But I could tell he was glad of the company. I hadn’t realized that Mitch, AKA “Captain Chaos” is a real gear head. He is also not the least bit chaotic.

People keep looking at my food protocol and expressing admiration. No one is getting much joy out of what they packed, apparently. I don’t know if I’ve seen a single person enjoy a meal. My meals are not fun, but they are also not chili mac that you cook by adding boiling water (usually too much, usually for crunchy pasta). I eat unobjectionable, high calorie foods.

It’s sort of sweet that people treat me like an expert when I’ve only hiked 1/3 of the trail! I choose to use this (very temporary) ethos boost to tell people to TAKE IT SLOW.

When I hiked the top 300 of the Colorado Trail in 2020, I remember having this awful day. I’ve gotta climb a fucking mountain—a real, actual Colorado mountain, mind you—on half a pack of mashed potatoes and some Oreos. I was fucking miserable. This trail runner comes down to get water right by where I’m eating my pathetic pre-mountain lunch. He’s telling me about his mileage and pace in that way that ultra runners do. I tell him I am going for an FKT (which means “fastest known time”) only I say “funnest known time” and it takes his cute little ultra-running-addled brain a half a second to see what I’d done, after which he laughed and laughed. I shared this with Trip, and we turned FKT (funnest known time) into a hiking philosophy. We push out the (s)miles every day. Today my foot felt so fucking normal. I felt like my old self again. I felt joy, which is different from happiness because it has been tempered by sadness. If this thing (my lucky foot) can continue to recover every day, I will finally be in a position to put our philosophy in action. Here is the first principle: it is sublime to be in the position to say or do the exact right thing at the exact right time for someone who really needs it. Hiking well means that you get to do that because you’re not trashed and starving and furious all the time.

I decided to join Mitch and push on for Woody Gap, a 12 mile day. I reserved a bunk at the same hostel where he was planning to stay and we made it together. I got a real second wind at the end and finished strong and happy. Some of the lightness was due to my decision to listen to my body and, in the words of Will Riker, “use the Briar Patch the way Br’er Rabbit did [to shit in, I presume].”

We caught a shuttle with three other (very old!) hikers who were staying at Above the Clouds hostel. Now, about that hostel name. Tomorrow I’m going to tell the manager my last name and ask if he thinks this place is too good for my kind.

The hostel is full because winter temperatures are returning with (thank god!) a little dry weather. I’ve reserved a cabin at Blood Mountain tomorrow night. Will offer to share with Mitch and others if I see them. Currently sitting at the chatty kitchen table of the hostel listening to a very tall, a bit above it all, Brit.

I’m going to add some photos since I have service.