Posts
500 Miles: Feet. Food. Mixed Feelings.
Even during my difficult days, I have yet to consider quitting. But that's just me being stubborn. And driven. And by golly, if I can help it, there is no way I'm going to let the rocks of Pennsylvania or New Jersey or New York end this trip.
400 Miles: Nasty, Filthy Rocks. We Hates Them.
Oh, Pennsylvania. All I know of ye is geology. The Pinnacle. The Pulpit. Knife Edge. Bake Oven Knob. Wolf Rocks. These are words that can instill fear your heart, if not your feet. Sharp apexes. Sheer drop offs. Copperhead habitats.
300 Miles: A Little Rain. A Little Rocks. And Lots Of Myles.
2016 Flip Flop: SNP to ME/SNP to GA Soon after reaching the 200 milestone, I painstakingly picked my way through a flag-marked, lichen-encrusted
200 Miles: Hair. Hostels. Fellow Flip Floppers.
Either my hair stylist (and I use that job title in the loosest possible sense when it comes to my coif) cut my hair in such a way that my natural curls have been set free, or my hair has continued to become curlier over time, but wownot using a comb these past 200 miles has unleashed the mane. That or Im justifying my hiker-trash lifestyle and just think Im rocking the comb less look.
Bronchitis. Bear. Shenandoah Burning: The First Flipping 100 Miles
A flip flop beginning at this point, at this time, has given me a time to hang out a little longer with my husband, get my trail legs and enjoy solitary days. I will admit, however, that the initial solitude during these first 100 miles also equates to a less social experience.
She Went Hiking on the Appalachian Trail and Youre Never Going to Believe What Happened Next
Before omnipresent devices encroached upon our lives, I had never entered the backcountry with any technology other than a flashlight and a camera. (And by technology, I mean a couple of AA batteries and a few roles of 36-exposure film that was carefully rationed.)
Little “Tick”-ing Time Bombs
In the mid 1990s, I canoed a section of the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway in western Wisconsin. The mother-daughter trip was memorable for three
The Snow Leopard
I have long since lost track of the day of the week, and the great events that must be taking place in the world we left behind are as illusory as events from a future century. It is not so much that we are going back in time as that the time seems circular, and past and future have lost meaning.
Arizona Before Appalachia
The Wilderness First Aid class was jam-packed with all sorts of information and I was dead tired at the end of each day. Fortunately, my parents have settled in a retirement community that is quiet by 9 p.m. Its just like hikers midnightexcept everyone tucks into the cozy private bedrooms of campaign bus-sized RVs.
Peeing: More Than A Feeling
Besides way too much airplay being afforded to the repetitive synthesized guitar riffs of Bostons More Than A Feeling, few things peeve me more