If I Could Do It Again . . .

 * * Upcoming Talks:  March 7, Oregon City Library, 7 PM  //  March 26, Straub Environmental Learning Center, 7 PM  //  April 16, Tryon Creek State Natural Area, 6:30 PM * *





This is one of the most frequently asked questions post-trail.  Right up there with, “How many pairs of shoes did you go through?”  Let me say right off that I do not have any regrets about my hike.  However, if I had known then what I know now, there are things I would have done differently.  For those of you headed for the trail and for my own reminder to my future self, here they are:

By the time we left Crater Lake,
we had finally ditched most of  our extra gear.  Nearly 2  lbs.

Gear

Overall, I was happy with my gear selections.  I might have gone with the Big Agnes Fly Creek instead of the TarpTent Contrail, considered more seriously the MSR Pocket Rocket over an alcohol stove, picked the iPhone over the Droid Razr Maxx, and definitely have found a better solar charger than the PowerMonkey.  But, mostly, with gear, I would have just ditched it sooner. 

Items I sent home included:  zip-off pants (traded for shorts), extra socks, extra sports bra, a mug, hot hands, 50% of my first aid kit, 3 extra stuff sacks, the lid to my pot, a small Nalgene, an emergency blanket, an extra USB charging cord, my camera case, an extra camera battery, the “Lid” I bought for my Granite Gear pack, a couple of folds of my Z-Lite, dental floss (which I added back), a pack towel, half of my spare cordage, half of my roll of duct tape (wrapped around my trekking poles instead), a small journal, the “data book,” the baskets for my trekking poles, ace wraps, extra inserts (should have used those), my Crocs (handy in the Sierra crossings—not after!) 

I started with a base pack weight of 18 lbs; I was down to 16 lbs by Washington.  In Washington, I also sent my TarpTent home and shared with my cousin (the Contrail can squeeze two in a pinch—I also shared this with my 6’1” mate when he hiked with us).  So, I dropped to just over 14 lbs, but added foot braces and athletic tape for my feet, rounding me out to a solid 15 lbs.  Given my size and weight, I should have been at 15 lbs from the get-go.  If I did it again, I would start with less.

Timing

If we had started earlier, we might have called it a night as soon as we hit this!

Gumby and I finished in 152 days.  Not bad considering our tortoise pace.  We hit the Sierras on June 15 and made it to Canada before it snowed or really even started to rain.  If I did it again, I would start the trail two weeks earlier, hitch down for Kickoff (ADZPCTKO), and then hitch back up afterwards.  We could have benefitted from starting slower and from having a 2-week head start.  Since we were not fast hikers, we took less zeros and more neros to keep pace and make it to Canada before October.  We never stopped anywhere for long and skipped a number of town stops.  It would have been more relaxing if we had given ourselves more time in the beginning.  AND, we would have had more trail magic!  In the back of the Herd, you miss some of it by mere days . . . 

Food

I packed all of my food ahead of time and had it shipped to me in 25 resupply packages.  Overall, I would stick with the buy-and-pack-ahead-of-time method.  However, I would have done three things differently. 

Worth the extra weight to spend over 2 weeks straight in the Sierras.

1)  I would have made sure I LOVED every food that I packed and not tried to save myself money with food I felt “okay” about.  Any food I settled for back home, I hated midway through the trail.  I also portioned out five months worth of jerky ahead of time—bad idea, it rots and molds in three weeks.  My shipper (my mate) had to pitch all of it. 

2)  I would have resupplied on trail a couple of times.  A few of the stops had great resupply stores; although many did not, I wish I had planned to resupply on trail a couple of times to give myself new food selections.  Food is an obsession on the trail—something new to obsess about is a blessing.

3)  I would have stopped more often.  There are two ways to plan your resupply.  One is to stop as often as possible so that you carry as little as possible between stops.  The other is to resupply less and carry more so that you have to pull off trail and hitch to town less.  Overall, I was happy with the places I chose to pull off, but there were times I went for a longer haul when a stop would have been simple and made my pack a hell of a lot lighter. 

Oh, I guess there is one more thing:  I would have carried less food.  I planned for nearly 4000 calories a day.  It’s a good number.  It turned out to be a little too much for 5’ 3/4” me.  I pulled into town with extra food 23 times of the 25 times I arrived.  Extra food is extra weight.  1 lb of extra food is 1 lb added to your base weight.  I would not have shipped myself less, it is nice to have the option of more, but I would have ditched more in the hiker boxes.

Photos

I wish I had taken more of these traditional landmark photos!

I took 3,000 photos.  If I were to do it again, I would take more.  More photos of the mundane parts of the trip and more photos of my fellow hikers—once you are back at home, the mundane on trail feels special, and the people are just as important as the places.  I also would have asked others to take more photos of me—it can be a little weird to ask people to do this (which is why I didn’t that often), but once you are back, you wish you had more candid shots.  Get over yourself and be a little vainer, you’ll be glad you did.

Travel

I hiked the trail with my female cousin, Gumby.  I cannot tell you how many times I found myself glad to have another around to share beautiful sights, funny stories, and end-of-the-day chats with.  And how often I was relieved to have someone there when I was crazy with the monotony, irate about my malfunctioning electronics, so sick I wanted to cry, so in pain that I was crying, and so exhausted that I just did not want to take another step.  Both joy and misery love company, and the trail has an overabundance of both. 

152 days of cousins!

That said, if I were to hike the trail again, I would take a few more solos.  I loved the company.  I also could have benefitted from hiking on my own more.  If I did it again, I might still go with a companion; I would just plan for sections of solos.  Oregon is the perfect place for a little one-on-one with the trail.  Washington and the Sierras are better with friends.  As in all things, think balance is the key.

Things I Would NOT Do Differently

I would not plan less.

I would not plan more.

I would not research gear more.

I would not pack less food.

I would still carry a Smartphone and a camera.

I would still carry a SPOT.

I would still have printed and electronic versions of HalfMile’s maps.

I would still have gone 18 days straight in the Sierras, resupplying once at Muir Trail Ranch.

I would still treat all of my drinking water.

I would still go to Kickoff.

I would still hike 1000 miles with plantar fasciitis and finish the trail even if it meant that 4 months later I would still be hobbling and unable to hike more than five.

The trail is an unforgettable experience.  There is no place for regrets.  Only new plans for next time.

10 Lessons Learned about Preparing 5 Month's Worth of Food

Food.  In general, there are two ways to do it on the trail:  You can buy your food along the way or shop and package it all before you go.

The Spreadsheet.

In the along-the-way method, you stop in the small towns scattered along the trail, raid the grocery stores for trail-worthy food for the next 5 or so days, divvy out your portions and shed extra packaging, load your pack, and go.  Sounds pretty good, eh?  There, of course, are some downfalls to this system.  Your grocery store may be a gas station . . . . which makes your protein bar option a Twinkie.  You have to spend time grocery shopping and food packing . . . time that you might otherwise spend doing luxurious things like showering, eating steaks and sundaes, and simply resting and thinking about the poor souls who are on their feet shopping.  And little outposts are little outposts -- Mom-and-Pop's supplies inevitably cost more than Costco's.  That's about it for downfalls.  And some weigh these as less than the benefits which, as I see it, are basically two:  One, you have the ability to buy yourself whatever foods your thru-hiking little heart and exhausted body desire (rather than being stuck with that trail mix that you loved on Day 1 but hate on Day 30 and still have over 100 days of.)  And, two, you avoid the logistical nightmare that is planning, purchasing, portioning, packaging, and post-officing 5 months worth of food.  Before you go.  While you're still trying to work the last few weeks of your job.  Still trying to train.  And still panicking about your pack that's too heavy, the maps you don't have, the trail name you're going to be blessed or cursed with, and how you're going to get to the Mexican border.  Among other things.  Like which underwear you want to live in.

Needless to say, I chose the before-you-go method.  Because I decided I would eat better, save a few bucks, and be able to relax on trail and in town knowing that I would have plenty of time for showering, eating steaks and sundaes, and lounging around while shaking my head at the poor souls who were still on their feet, grocery shopping.  Now, I knew the before-you-go method would be a little tedious.  But I decided it would be worth it.  And it still may prove to be.  But I do wish someone would have expanded upon just what I was getting into.  And so, for future distance hikers, I would like to share the following lessons learned about the before-you-go food process.

Working on The Spreadsheet.

1.  You'll spend more time with The Spreadsheet than with your family and friends.  I spent 20 hours creating and editing mine.  20.  And 8 hours filling in the blanks during pre-purchase research at the store -- recording the package size, price, and per-serving Nutrition Facts of every single item on my list.  At Costco.  And then Winco.  In order to spend 8-hours checking items off during The Shopping Trip.  Yes, it's a 40-hour workweek with The Spreadsheet just to buy your food.  Pack-out will be at least another 20 hours.  Just remind yourself of the fudgesicles you'll be eating while those along-the-way folks are on their feet shopping.

(Here's my spreadsheet:  DBK's PCT Food Planner)

2.  You may be accosted at the grocery store while conducting your research.  By a 6-foot-something male who will approach you from behind your left shoulder.  He'll speak in an authoritative tone using grocery store jargon that you don't understand.  You'll jump, toss The Spreadsheet, and haphazardly try to explain that you don't work for his competitor by saying, "I'm planning for a trip!  I'm hiking the Pacific Crest Trail!  Look, my spreadsheet says 'DBK's PCT Food Planner'!"  You'll confuse him enough that he'll leave you alone for the next 3 hours.

3.  On Shopping Day, starting with the relatively easy Costco (or any mega-package-size store) shopping will convince you that this isn't going to be so bad.  Don't worry, bulk-bin time at Winco (or whichever bulk-bin food store you choose) will crush you.

4.  You will develop mad bulk-bin shopping skills.  After 3 or more hours in this small square of the store, you'll be able to feel a rush coming on without raising your head from the dried apple bin.  You'll learn that during a rush, you should either a) plant yourself firmly at a bin close to the scales, not budging no matter how cute the kid is who is helping his mom shop or b) move temporarily to a less-desirable area -- like the black licorice bin.  You'll become friends with the bulk-bin restock employees.

Happily reunited with my cart.

5.  At some point during shopping, you'll feel overwhelmed, crabby, and sorry for yourself.  When this happens, go to the food sample folks and have a snack.  Then look around for what appears to be a mom and 6 kids.  Watch her.  She does this AT LEAST TWICE A MONTH.  With 6 kids.  You're being a sissy.  Eat your sample, stand up tall, and lunge forward with your 150-pound cart.  If she can do this, you can do this.

6.  If separated from your food (because these discount stores require cash, and you met your daily limit on your debit card at Costco, so your cart is now in the holding pen), text your mate immediately with an alarming message like "I NEED $300 AND YOUR HELP!"  I tried it.  It's extremely effective.  You'll be reunited with your food within the hour.

7.  You can never buy enough Ziplocs.  I started with 720.  Child's play.  I'll need closer to 2,000.  Get them in all sizes.

8.  During pack-out, you will develop "Ziploc finger."  Ever zipped a Ziploc?  Heck, yes!  Red and blue make purple.  Fun.  After 100 zips, your zipping finger gets red and sore.  You'll switch to your second string finger.  It will get red and sore, too.  You'll switch to third string.  It's a terrible zipper, and so you will go back to the first.  It smarts.  And you're not even a quarter of the way through.

My fellow perfectionist pack-out mate and
package person, Guy.

9.  Pack-out is better with a friend.  And your favorite beverage.  And a fully belly.  Here's what you do: Enlist the help of your most anal, Type A friend.  Someone who is going to zip Ziplocs tight and with all of the air out, who can scoop a measuring cup to 4.1 ounces every time, and who relishes in order and organization as much or maybe more than you.  (If you're both Type A, perfectionist sorts, you are in business.)  Start pack-out by opening snacks (NOT something you are taking on the trail).  Begin.  Order food out about halfway through packing.  If you do it too early, you'll be hungry and crabby by the halfway point.  Snack though the first wave, and reward yourself midway with take-out.  Trust me.  You don't want to burden yourself with cooking.  Then put on some dancing tunes, and dive into the second wave.  You will finish tired, sore, and a little ticked off by midnight.  Don't talk to anyone.  Especially your pack-out mate.  Just go to bed.  Wait a few days, and let your fingers heal.  Repeat.  That was just breakfast -- you still have to pack out lunch and dinner.

10.  Once you've begun the before-you-go food process, don't ever ask yourself if it is worth it.  You might realize it is not.  And then you'll have 5 months and 321 pounds of dry food that you are already sick of seeing.  Just keep going.  You still have to finish portioning and packing, and your Resupply Spreadsheet needs at least 10 hours of work.


Good luck!