The lifers
The number of hikers on the trail, over the last weeks, has diminished and they've spread out. However, I meet a handful of new people every day. Sometimes I meet one of what I've started calling the lifers. When I stop at a hostel or hiker-friendly town, I meet a LOT of lifers.
These are the guys (I met one lady lifer a couple days ago) who hiked the trail ages ago. People hike the trail for all sorts of reasons, but it's pretty safe to assume that they're searching for something, often hoping for some sort of realization. For this group, it takes more than once. Or, it occurred to me the other day after meeting CB, maybe they experienced that sought-after epiphany, and it is this: hike more. Some are out on their fourth or fifth thru-hike. Some do a couple hundred miles of the trail every year. The vast majority are perpetual section-hikers who live around hiker-friendly towns, helping out the hikers if they have their wits about them, or just trying to party with the young ones and share their expertise.
When I was at Standing Bear Farm, which I raved about last entry, the supply room/store had an intriguing box on display. The return address was politely crossed off, and on the blank part of the priority mail box, was written:
"This was a re-supply box for Minnesota Smith. If you have not yet met Minnesota Smith, you will. He is an expert on most things, according to himself. He will tell you about how to hike better and how you're hiking wrong, and keep in mind the weight of this box."
The box weighed 53 pounds. My pack, with 3 liters of water and four days worth of food weighs 32 pounds. The message was: Minnesota Smith doesn't know Jack and you shouldn't feel like you gotta listen to him.
When I met him three days ago, he fit the mold of the typical lifer:
Doesn't fit in society any more.
Loves the trail like I love pissing in the woods.
a) did so many drugs in the 70s that his ability to discern most social cues rubbed off, or b) somehow maintains a life back home but gets kicked out a few months a year so he can 'go bother the new hikers.'
Didn't want to do anything else after finishing the trail.
Loves his stories from hiking.
Wants, more than anything else, to help the new hikers by imparting his own knowledge-from-experience.
a) heavy drinker/smoker or b) went on the trail to quit.
Not to say that all guys re-hiking part of the trail are lifers, and certainly most section-hikers are not lifers.
A few days ago, at the singular Nolichucky Hostel and Outfitter, I met a whole boatload of lifers, and the experience got me thinking a lot. Now, I have eight to ten hours every day during which my thinking goes something like this: "whoa that's a big hill, okay here I go... not so bad... that was great! I feel terrific! Oh I bet I can get to Chicago when I finish during a road trip, that'll be an awesome time to see the city- rock garden! left foot there, right foot there, careful, careful, ooh downhill, easy knees... I wonder why these guys keep on hiking the trail over and over? They did it, if they didn't get the big epiphany by Katahdin, shouldn't they try something else to answer the big question? Or maybe that's just it! Roots! Too many roots! Shit, left foot there, right foot there, balance, I hate roots, slippery roots are hard! what was I thinking about? Oh yeah, the lifers figured out that what makes them happiest is walking. So is that realization a burden for them? Are they stuck following the white blaze?" That was fifteen minutes in my head. So I'm at the hostel, and I meet CB.
Alcoholic, chain smoker, has lived on or near the trail getting work for the last ten years. He's missing a good number of teeth on his left top row, and likes to point the gap near the person he's speaking to when he laughs. He also has the tic of repeating his last phrase after a pause. CB has hiked the trail 3 times. When I find him talking to my friend Scout late that evening, knowing he's been drinking for about 7 hours, I join the conversation. He asks why I'm walking. Then he chuckles to himself, and spurts "I respect all hikers, for whatever reason they're hiking, whatever gets them out here, you know? I have total respect, cuz it's all types of people, comin to do the same thing. the same thing. and I have respect, heh heh heh" and with the hand holding his cigarette he makes an encompassing arc, to show his acceptance. He grins towards me with his tooth gap. I never got to tell him why I was hiking, he started on about how the 1,000 mile mark, that's when the mind games start, when the 'fuck it, my knee' or 'fuck it, my ankle' quitting gets people off the trail. As he reminisced, warning us of the woes to come in his jolly drunken way, he would lean, shuffling his feet imperceptibly closer to me, so that as I listened, I would slowly step back from his cigarette tracer and gapped smile. Then, aware of his travel, he would step back, regain his spiel, and swerve again. This dance lasted a few back and forths and side to sides until I knew I'd heard all he could tell, and went to bed.
This encounter is the bread and butter of a lifer. They move slow or camp out somewhere friendly, so that every day they can meet new people to share their favorite stories and maybe give some of the advice they carry with them. But those they meet are transient, and move along, so that the next day new hikers come to town, and it all starts again.
These are the guys (I met one lady lifer a couple days ago) who hiked the trail ages ago. People hike the trail for all sorts of reasons, but it's pretty safe to assume that they're searching for something, often hoping for some sort of realization. For this group, it takes more than once. Or, it occurred to me the other day after meeting CB, maybe they experienced that sought-after epiphany, and it is this: hike more. Some are out on their fourth or fifth thru-hike. Some do a couple hundred miles of the trail every year. The vast majority are perpetual section-hikers who live around hiker-friendly towns, helping out the hikers if they have their wits about them, or just trying to party with the young ones and share their expertise.
When I was at Standing Bear Farm, which I raved about last entry, the supply room/store had an intriguing box on display. The return address was politely crossed off, and on the blank part of the priority mail box, was written:
"This was a re-supply box for Minnesota Smith. If you have not yet met Minnesota Smith, you will. He is an expert on most things, according to himself. He will tell you about how to hike better and how you're hiking wrong, and keep in mind the weight of this box."
The box weighed 53 pounds. My pack, with 3 liters of water and four days worth of food weighs 32 pounds. The message was: Minnesota Smith doesn't know Jack and you shouldn't feel like you gotta listen to him.
When I met him three days ago, he fit the mold of the typical lifer:
Doesn't fit in society any more.
Loves the trail like I love pissing in the woods.
a) did so many drugs in the 70s that his ability to discern most social cues rubbed off, or b) somehow maintains a life back home but gets kicked out a few months a year so he can 'go bother the new hikers.'
Didn't want to do anything else after finishing the trail.
Loves his stories from hiking.
Wants, more than anything else, to help the new hikers by imparting his own knowledge-from-experience.
a) heavy drinker/smoker or b) went on the trail to quit.
Not to say that all guys re-hiking part of the trail are lifers, and certainly most section-hikers are not lifers.
A few days ago, at the singular Nolichucky Hostel and Outfitter, I met a whole boatload of lifers, and the experience got me thinking a lot. Now, I have eight to ten hours every day during which my thinking goes something like this: "whoa that's a big hill, okay here I go... not so bad... that was great! I feel terrific! Oh I bet I can get to Chicago when I finish during a road trip, that'll be an awesome time to see the city- rock garden! left foot there, right foot there, careful, careful, ooh downhill, easy knees... I wonder why these guys keep on hiking the trail over and over? They did it, if they didn't get the big epiphany by Katahdin, shouldn't they try something else to answer the big question? Or maybe that's just it! Roots! Too many roots! Shit, left foot there, right foot there, balance, I hate roots, slippery roots are hard! what was I thinking about? Oh yeah, the lifers figured out that what makes them happiest is walking. So is that realization a burden for them? Are they stuck following the white blaze?" That was fifteen minutes in my head. So I'm at the hostel, and I meet CB.
Alcoholic, chain smoker, has lived on or near the trail getting work for the last ten years. He's missing a good number of teeth on his left top row, and likes to point the gap near the person he's speaking to when he laughs. He also has the tic of repeating his last phrase after a pause. CB has hiked the trail 3 times. When I find him talking to my friend Scout late that evening, knowing he's been drinking for about 7 hours, I join the conversation. He asks why I'm walking. Then he chuckles to himself, and spurts "I respect all hikers, for whatever reason they're hiking, whatever gets them out here, you know? I have total respect, cuz it's all types of people, comin to do the same thing. the same thing. and I have respect, heh heh heh" and with the hand holding his cigarette he makes an encompassing arc, to show his acceptance. He grins towards me with his tooth gap. I never got to tell him why I was hiking, he started on about how the 1,000 mile mark, that's when the mind games start, when the 'fuck it, my knee' or 'fuck it, my ankle' quitting gets people off the trail. As he reminisced, warning us of the woes to come in his jolly drunken way, he would lean, shuffling his feet imperceptibly closer to me, so that as I listened, I would slowly step back from his cigarette tracer and gapped smile. Then, aware of his travel, he would step back, regain his spiel, and swerve again. This dance lasted a few back and forths and side to sides until I knew I'd heard all he could tell, and went to bed.
This encounter is the bread and butter of a lifer. They move slow or camp out somewhere friendly, so that every day they can meet new people to share their favorite stories and maybe give some of the advice they carry with them. But those they meet are transient, and move along, so that the next day new hikers come to town, and it all starts again.
posted by Sara Haxby at
10:08 PM
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