Tis the season!  Except it’s 80 degrees here.  Blech.  After several weeks in NC, Tom is home for a while and loving the warm weather.

Tom will actually be home quite a bit these days.  Because he accepted a promotion which puts him back to managing a single warehouse instead of installing/training/maintaining work flow systems on warehouses across the US.

I tried to write about this earlier but it depressed the hell out of me at first.  Accepting a new position now means no hike for us come March.  And as a new warehouse won’t be opening until after 1st quarter (maybe 2nd quarter?) of 2012, it’s feeling unlikely he’ll be ready to let it go and hike come 2013.

It’s not like I didn’t just spend an entire year scrimping, going without, holding off on a real job search, and meticulously planning this or anything.  Oh wait.  I did.  AND I HAVE THE SPREADSHEETS TO PROVE IT.

I have mostly gotten over the crushing weight of a year of my life spent planning for nothing and the dream of completing a spectacular goal with my husband dashed.  Mostly.

One thing I should say is that Tom did allow me to veto this move.  If I had said we have to hike or else, he would have turned it down.  But he had already expressed concern over our financial future with the hike looming and I could not in good faith tell him we’ll be fine and let it go.  That is one “I told you so” I cannot allow him to utter if we become broke and live out of our tent on the AT for good.

Another thing Tom has agreed to, which has mostly brought me out of my funk (mostly), is that I have somewhat Cart Blanche on my 2012.  If I want to not pursue a “real” job and go hike for awhile by myself, he will support that.  If I want to take a job that means I’m traveling M-F, he’ll man the home front as I did the past two years.  As long as we have a financial plan that can support my decision, he’s on board.

Kinda hard to hate the person who’s ruined my life when he’s so nice about everything.  Hurmph.

Right now, we are very up in the air with what and when things will happen.  We will end up moving.  Right now, it looks like just here in FL.  (This is part of the depressing thing for me – I knew this was a possibility and felt the upside would be the chance to move out of the state of sun and sand and back somewhere you could hike under pine trees.)

There is a small chance we could move to north GA, near Atlanta.  This is my preference and kind of Tom’s as well.  (The area we’d move to in FL is not pretty or exciting or in a good location for anything but warehousing.)  He was hand-picked for this FL position and someone else for the GA.  But Tom feels there is a possibility a player may back out and the deck will be reshuffled in our favor.

So…we’re moving somewhere at sometime in the first 6ish months of 2012.  I may or may not still attempt some kind of long hike and/or vacation and/or travel.

Basically, everything and/or nothing’s changed!  Merry Christmas!  (Oh right…I was going to write about our holiday plans.  First Christmas we’ll celebrate with my inlaws!  I asked what I could make to participate in the big meal and they requested a 3-ingredient appetizer that is Tom’s speciality and not mine and 1 of those 3 three ingredients is a meat I don’t eat!  If I don’t report back, please post bail to HickTown, GA!)

When something is NAMED for another thing, isn’t it a requirement that the other thing be somehow related to the first thing?  Like if you name some mountains after porcupines, there is a legal obligation that porcupines reside on said mountains?

I cannot believe I have seen a bear in the wild and not yet a porcupine.

ANYWAY.

When we were not busy burying my father or drinking beer, we took three days to hike/camp in the porcupine mountains.  It’s right on Lake Superior in the UP of MI, about 2 hours from the WI cabin.  WTF?

Sorry, got carried away with the initializing.

First, I am going to own up in a very vague way because it turns out there are even topics I believe are too personal/gross/boring to blog about.

Womens, in case you didn’t know, have a very special time of the month.  And that time, while special, is also difficult.  It can be difficult to not feel like a hero for making it to the couch before laying down.  Especially difficult to not shove chocolate or potato chips or chocolate covered potato chips in their mouths non stop.

Jessica In Progress, dispensing with stereotypes since 2011.

My special time coincided nicely with the hike.  The hike where we were without privies or running water or chocolate covered potato chips.

In our planning for hiking the AT I did some research on how I wished to handle this special time and I have been actively preparing for this.

However.

Let’s just say it’s a wee bit different actually out on a 3-day hike with your period than sitting at home thinking about a 3-day hike on your period.  And there were some TECHINICAL DIFFICULTIES.  Perhaps some pants needed some washing.  And I can’t believe I am thirty fucking six and admiting that I had this type of issue but I am and I did so there we all are.

ANYWAY.

The TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES took place our first day.  And besides slight embarrassment and huge paranoia throughout the rest of the trip, it really wasn’t that bad.  For me, I mean.  Tom had to listen to my paranoia for the next 48 hours which was probably excruiating, but on the other hand he wasn’t continuously bleeding so maybe we were about even in the end.

I did take away some VERY valuable lessons learned from the experience and that’s the point of these small hikes.

Other Lessons Learned:

1) Couscous is the most amazing hiking dinner ever.  Easy to cook and so tasty and filling!  I try pretty hard to not get ideas for food that wouldn’t be easy to find in a regular supermarket/convenience store.  No point in dehydrating gourmet organic meals for us if we can’t have them on the thru-hike.  But couscous is mainstream now, right?  Right??  Otherwise, we are going to need to line up some couscous suppliers.

2) I have finally, finally, finally figured out how/where to carry everything in/on/strapped to my pack.  It sounds like a no-brainer but it’s not.  The biggest concession I made was in the beginning I was adamant I did not want to strap large items to the outside of my pack.  I have an appropriately-sized pack for light-weight thru-hiking (a GoLite Quest) and I felt if I started allowing items to be strapped on the outside it meant I was carrying way too much stuff.

But when I chose my sleeping pad, I did not realize how difficult it was to compress it to store in a stuff sac.  After 3 trips of cursing and glaring at Tom because he had the audacity to breath in my general direction while trying to stuff my sleeping pad first thing in the morning, I decided to try just rolling it tight and strapping it to the side of my pack.  It was awesome.

3)  Tom.  Is.  Slow.  Fingers crossed it was just because we hadn’t been hiking lately and he’s not conditioned to the trail.  Otherwise we are going to need way more than 6 months to thru-hike.

4) Letting Tom set the pace so much made me realize how much I probably push him.  And I’d much rather hold myself back and still have energy to do the camp chores.

5)  I am even more convinced that I do not want to live in FL for much longer.  I appreciate the hiking opportunities we’ve had, but I’m sick of sand and scrub.  Trees!  Glorious Trees!

6) Stick close to privies during my special time.  Or suffer TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES.

Not a very inspiring title, but since I went through the trouble of googling it for correct spelling it stays.

I have been getting tons accomplished (see: one less cat in my bathroom).  But I am getting a little worn down by it.  Yes, I have the flexible hardly-a-job-at-all-really schedule.  But this has allowed for me to try a few things here and there that seem so easy to fit into a few hours a week.

These days I’m stuck with a few hours in the afternoon where I sort of sit and drool until my PM activities take up.

I’m trying hard to not do that (sit and drool).  I’m trying to make time to sit at the computer and research stuff and do “work”.

Did you know that amazon.com is “work”?  (And you thought I was using quotes incorrectly!)

The sanctuary still takes up a big part of my week.  Or at least my week days.  Week days I’m in town.  I really only have 3 flexible days in my schedule and I do my best to volunteer all of those days in order to make the hourly requirements for my volunteer level.

It’s not the same.  I can’t remember how much I divulged when I left my paid position there, but suffice to say if there had been management/benefits/career advancement worth staying for then Gma would have had to suck it up and deal.  I made the decision to leave when many things were up in the air.  And now that the dust has settled…it’s not the same.  (And no one ever says that when the “not the” part is better than the “same”, do they?)

Yet I stay.  In part because at first I was concerned I needed more structure to my work week than 4 hours in the car, sixteen billion worried nosey questions, and some Jack Daniel’s.

And now?  Now I don’t know.  I suppose I stay because it’s a place where I am still an important person.  And I don’t have anywhere else that’s true.

But I am tempted to change that.  Tempted to look for another place where I am needed but not reminded of how it used to be.

In the middle of all that is the fact Tom and I want to do this hike.  We will do this hike.  It will be awesome or horrible or both.  Definitely not neutral.  I am toying with the idea of doing some housekeeping around here, adding some password protection on a few posts, and then outing myself to friends and family in order to use this blog to journal the hike.

So do I hang on to this sorta schedule?  Too busy or too bored and always too tired?  Or do I dump everything and charge headlong into a new project only to say, “Can you hold that thought?  I gotta go walk 2,200 miles”?

Because really, who doesn’t need a 4 hour hike around central FL in July?

It’s been in the 90s here since 1923, so Tom and I have made no effort to hike since returning from Washington.  I think also we were feeling a little “been there, done that”.  Especially after spending a multi-day hike amoung real mountains and setting foot on the real, true AT for the first time.  A trek around our usual haunts just doesn’t live up.

(Actually, that reminds me that we did hike once between now and then.  At our usual, neighborhood haunt of a 3-4 mile trail – including the boardwalks – at Wheedon Island.  I remember it was Memorial Day weekend because we had a little extra time together than the usual 48 hour whirlwind.  We saw – I kid you not – a pet bunny that had been dumped by the side of the road.  Coloring was all wrong for a wild rabbit.  And he sat there calmly munching a nearby bush while we walked up on him all like, “Dude, is he a…?”  “Got to be.”  We came back with the car that evening, and one day after that, but could not find him.  Probably for the best.  Some fox got a good meal, and Pixie does not have a pet rabbit.)

ANYWAY.

I had an extremely shitty Thursday, made shittier when I tried to be all, “Buck up!  Get our of the house and do your regular chores and you’ll feel better!” because people and technology suck and endevoured to make me fail.  Friday I ran small errands – attended a caregivers support group, did the grocery shopping the debit card system refused me the night before – but that was it.  I had been dealt the “Some days it’s not worth getting out of bed” card, and I knew when to fold ‘em.

Since Tom got back late, late Thursday/early Friday morning, I tried to muster some interest in the fact that I had a significant other and suggested we plan something interesting for Sunday, the only day he would be home that I didn’t already have something planned.

(I had a most awesome yoga class on Saturday morning and while exhausted, we could have done something that PM except for the fact that our AC is on the fritz.  AGAIN.  And yes, I did need to take a gulp sip of wine to write that sentence.  The only good thing I have to say is thank goodness it decided to give out mere months after being fixed rather than waiting the usual year.  We definitely have the repair guy’s attention.  We couldn’t go out Saturday because as soon as we called, he offered to come over and charge the unit so we’d have some kinda-cool air until mid-week when he can come back and do a full investigation.)

ANYWAY.  PART DEUX.  ANYWAY’S REVENGE.

I also mentioned to Tom that I realized a big “duh” moment for me on why perhaps the scale isn’t magically on a downward slope might have something to do with the fact I’m no longer strapping 10-30 lbs to my back and walking for 4-8 hours once a week.  I really need to step up my burn throughout the week unless I want to start cutting calories more which I do not.  I will eat my homemade ice cream while running in place if that’s what it takes.

He decided he wanted to hike as well and chose for our Sunday adventure to try out the Green Swamp – a huge SWFTMD site about an hour or so to our northeast.  Now that we are old hats at the actual packing/planning/hiking part, per usual our hardest time was negotiating the driving directions.  Please note, Tuskegee Ave was the correct answer to not one, not two, but THREE turns labeled as other streets.  You’re 0 for 2, google maps app.

Wary of the name, we were delighted to find that the Green Swamp’s trails bone dry despite a week of raining in these parts.  What’s more, once we got off the main road and onto the real hiking path…it was shaded!  A rarity in the scrub land of central FL.  It’s also the first hike where we encounted gopher tortorise up close and personal on the trails.

While I say we are old pros at the planning and such, we really had no pre-hike plan or conversation and hadn’t packed that much water.  3-4 liters each, which sounds like a lot until it’s 97 degrees.  But!  At least we are old pros enough to discuss as we walked and ended up back at the car almost 4 hours to the dot since we left it, each with at least a half liter left. 

As I sit here, in pain from both my first camel posture where I could reach back and touch my heels and my first walk of any significant distance since May, I realize that sometimes when life seems really shitty and I don’t know how to cope, I should just take a hike.

**Before my grandmother’s diagnosis, I was asked several times how I could plan a 6-month trip to hike the entire AT next year and leave her alone.  At the time, my answer was that she was fully able to get by without me and had other help available.  Now, the truth is I suppose I believe the question of leaving my grandmother will be solved naturally before that time.  And if she is alive and kicking cancer’s ass next March, yes I will leave her and go hike.  As she would insist.  There is a chance neither scenario will pan out and I will be faced the fact I do not wish to leave her.  But just as I wish for her to live each day for what it’s worth and not worry how many more days she has left, I want to live as if I can make this dream come true.

Slightly lesser known than LOL or WTF, HYOH stands for Hike Your Own Hike.

It’s used most often when hikers wonder if their gear/pace/shelter plan/food rationing is up to snuff.  Does it work for you?  Are you able to sustain it/carry it/eat it/get good sleep?  Then carry on.  HYOH.

It’s also used right after someone gives a detailed reasoning of why the gear/pace/shelter plan/food rationing of someone else is definitely NOT up to snuff.

Maybe because hiking is a form of exercise, and I’ve been wading in the deep end of that pool for over 15 years in my quest to eat tasty things without looking like I eat tasty things, but I have had very few questions of the “am I doing this right?” variety.  I’ve taken in opinions and consulted gear reviews and most importantly obsessed about what things weigh.  But in the end I seem to have a strong gut feeling that I prefer trail runners to boots, pig tails to a crew cut, and peeing standing up with a feminine helper funnel to obsessing over shrubbery coverage and squatting.

Did you know about the funnels for women to pee standing up?  Some people swear by cutting a salad dressing bottle at a certain angle versus purchasing a specific device.  But I was of the strong opinion I didn’t want to mess up the design or have rough-cut plastic near my vagina.  I use a pStyle and I love it.

All of these opinions aside, I have wondered.  Maybe I’m missing something.  Maybe I like what I choose to wear/carry/eat because I don’t know any better.

So I was very excited to plan the trip to Shanendoah with Kat and Shane.  Especially when I found out they hike in boots and think trail runners (slightly sturdier sneakers) were crazy-talk.  And they filter their water whereas Tom and I use a chemical treatment – saving us over a 1 lb to carry but not an FDA-approved way to remove Giardia.  (It’s rumored that it is allowed to claim such in Canada.  And since most sites do agree that “Beaver Fever” is less caught by beaver feces contamination than humans just not pracaticing good hygiene, we decided to risk it.  Giardia has a two week incubation period, so we’ve got another 8 days or so before we are in the clear.)

Another good reason to do some small “shakedown” hikes – you can get intestinal issues back in the comfort of your own home and HMO.

The hike itself was a great success.  For me and Tom at least.  Kat had mentioned to me that she too had the sniffles prior to our flight up there and I sort of assumed it was of the same variety as mine.  But she definitely was sicker yet insisted on sticking to our plan for the 1st day.  Unfortunately, she felt worse and couldn’t breath well enough to do any strenuous climbs, so we hiked together down to a goood outlet for them and then Tom and I struck out to hit the top of Knobb mountain and find a camp site while they went to the trail head and agreed to pick us up the next day.

It was a very selfish decision to stay that 2nd night without them, but I don’t regret it.  I think Kat would have hated herself more for making us leave the trail than she did for leaving us there alone.  And Tom and I got to really hike at our own pace the next day, proving that we can average 2 mph in the mountains which is what we’re sort of counting on in planning the Big Hike.

But before we were alone, I got to see first hand how different people hiked/camped and felt very good about the decisions Tom and I have made. 

The biggest thing I am still up in the air about is clothes.  I have been wearing some convertible pants that I like and are really quick-drying, but have a terribly small zipper/inseam which makes using the pStyle diffficult.  I’m not sure if I lose a bit more weight if that will be less of an issue or if it’s truly a design flaw of the pants.  I also brought the pink panther onesie after much debate and worry about being cold.  The weight wasn’t a huge issue, but it doesn’t pack down well and I really dislike my backpack towering over my head.  I can still justify it if I decide to bring less clothes in general and use it as a full outfit.  Which I think we all know I am not too shy to do so.  I just am still worried I’d be kicking myself for not having separate shirt-pant combos.

Oh, and my shirts seem a bit on the heavy side, despite being good wicking material.  And my kick-ass socks are so fluffy I am afraid they will not dry well on the trail.  Although I did fall into the river wearing a pair and they dried OK.

But, for all that waffling about what to wear (so sad that I don’t put that much thought into it wearing regular clothes), I became strongly attached to my footwear.  Specifically, trail runners or bare.

The 2nd day of hiking included 15 river crossings.  Because whoever made the trail is evil.  And I had decided awhile ago that I didn’t want to carry a pair of water shoes or “camp” shoes (shoes to wear while at the camp site).  So that means finding rock-hopping pathes at water crossings, or going barefoot through them.  And in between water crossings, I have to either take the time to re-shoe and un-shoe or just grin and bare it.  (I did bring a pair of flip flops in case I was wrong about the toughness of my feet.  They now sit in my shoe bin, unworn.)

I fell into the water trying to rock-hop because I felt self-concious holding up the group to untie my shoes again.  I had just put them back on because I was falling behind walking barefoot on the trail.  There are lots of rocks on trails.  And even more scary are piles of leaves.  That might contain rocks.  And millipedes.  And snakes.

But besides having to watch where I put my feet a bit more (which I should probably do anyway), I really liked going barefoot.  It was a nice break from wearing shoes.  And with every squeak Kat or Tom’s water shoes made, I heard chafing and blisters and prune feet.

After falling into the river (sliding really, I extended my leg too far to make it to the next dry rock and couldn’t hold my footing so down I went), I decided I was going to HMOH.  I wanted to stay barefoot until the river crossings were over.  And so I did.  It was really hard to not keep justifying myself to everyone.  Especially Tom.  It seems that slowness on the trail is equated with some negative quality I can’t quite name…but that because I chose to be barefoot and went slow that I needed more help or guidance.  And considering that he’s been trying to get my to slow down ever since we started hiking together, maybe he should just shut up and try to convince me to go barefoot all the time.

I am so sorry y’all, but this is not going to be pretty.  It is currently 80 bagallion degrees in the condo and I think the cats have mutated sweat glands so when I receive the Nobel prize in genetics you can say you knew me when.

What makes me so mad about this is that WE KNEW!  WE KNEW the AC had a leak!  We had our friendly, neighborhood AC guy come several times last year to check and test and recharge and perhaps give a handjob to our compressor.  Last time he was here, he seemed…not that confident.

But he was such a good guy!  And he picked up the phone when we called!  (If you do not currently have an AC guy, this is #1 priority in picking an AC guy.  Over whether they can actually fix stuff.)  We wanted to BELIEVE in our AC guy.  So we shut our eyes to the fact that, ya know, AC AIN’T FIXED.

It’s been in the 80s here in central FL for a few weeks, but the night time lows plus several cold fronts resulting in only a few steady days of heat at a time meant I hadn’t really turned on the AC much this year.

But Friday…it was hot.  And both of us were home.  And I baked muffins, then protein bars, then roasted a chicken.

And after having the AC on for a few hours, we decided we like our money too much to give it all to Progress Energy and we turned the sucker off.

And then we set up some fans, took the dog to a friend’s, and went hiking.  Because…what else you gonna do?

It wasn’t until Sunday night, after my after-camping shower had worn off and I might have possibly had a slight stomach ache from comsuming my weight in pizza (Ask me how weight loss is going!), that I felt fullblown stress over our lack of cooling breeze.

I think we can all agree that I’m not a girl who is afraid to take charge.  Get things done.  Bull=horns=Jessica in Progress.

Except…I am not southern.  And not a guy.  And I cannot keep panic and outrage out of my voice that my problem is not everyone’s #1 priority.

Tom’s profient at all 3 and damn.  That shit works.  So it just became a lot easier to make him responsible for certain aspects of our household, like those that require outside assistance.

Except…he travels for work.  All.  The.  Time.  And our AC/dishwasher/microwave don’t travel with him (although he did drive around for months with a small fridge in his car because the hotel we stayed in at New Year’s didn’t give you one free in the room and it was so much cheaper to just buy one then pay their rental price and aren’t we smart expect no one on craigslist wants a mini fridge and it is an everlasting reminder to 1) never book on orbitz again 2) never book within 72 hours of your father’s funeral because you’re stressed the vacation’s not set).

Wow….just.  Wow.

ANYWAY.

So, it’s partially Tom’s fault because out-of-sight-something-something and partially mine because I did not keep my nagging skills up to snuff.  But Sunday night he jumped into hero mode by making a lot of phone calls and leaving manly, southern, non-panicked messages.

Short story long?  We have new AC guys.  Who are not quite as prompt as our old one, but they did just call me (3 hours late) to tell me they’ll be here in an hour and a half.  Oh yeah, and they also had hydrogen AND nitrogen and cut lines and had much more impressive tests than Brian ever did PLUS they had a probe beepy thingy.  And you know that means business!  (The tests are impressive because they are expensive.  And take over 24 hours so they can leave you hanging a second time.)

So…we camped at the Withlacoochee State Forest over the weekend.

It was a lot of fun.  We did not get lost on the trail!  Just on the ride up there.  Like, a lot lost.  Or maybe just a little but I really, really, really, really, really had to pee and Tom did not respect my desire to just pull over and pee on that farmer over there.  I told him next time just do what I say.  It will give him another win in the “I told you so” column and isn’t that what every good marriage is about?

Getting to the park late meant hiking in the heat.  (WITH NO AC!)  I will say, the park is more shaded than many others, but the loop we hiked in on had dappled shading at best.  It was also our first time hiking with Tom having trekking poles.  I’ve mentioned before, boy hikes like the wind with poles.  Which can be a good thing sometimes.  But I had to purposely slow my stride to not catch him because I was already sweating buckets.

A major negative to the park is that there is no water anywhere on the trail.  Not pumped.  Not even in the little lakes marked “Lake” so nicely on the map because the “Lake” is really “Bunch of Weeds In a Muddy Ditch”. 

Now, we knew this going in.  And many people cache water by walking/driving straight up forest service roads, dumping water at a good location, then walking/driving back to the start of the real trail and picking up their cache when they reach it.

We did not do this.  It sounded to me like a lot of work.  I’m not sure why carrying 6L of water (at 2.2 lbs/L) did not sound like a lot of work, but it didn’t.  Probably because it could fit in my pack.  That is the backpacker’s horror – if there is room in their pack, they’ll add stuff to it.

6L of water was actually 1L more than I thought I’d need (Tom carried 6 as well).  But with the late!  And the heat!  We both drank 3L upon reaching the campsite.  At 3pm.  Where we needed to cook and live until the morning when we hiked out.  In the heat.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.  It was worse for me, I think, since I drink about 9L (I shit you not) a day when left to my own devices and bathroom access.  But I am used to rationing myself a bit on hikes.  And it really was OK.  Except that we had NO extra water to dip our bandanas in and wipe grime/sweat off and that would have felt awesome.

Besides the water, we had some great tent antics.

Our tent has 3 parts.  The footprint – basically a tarp to lay flat on the ground that saves your tent bottom from rough terrain.  The tent – a “bathtub bottom” with just bug netting for the rest of it.  The rain fly – basically a tarp that lays over the tent for privacy/warmth/rain.

A pole holds up both the tent and rainfly.  The tent clips to it underneath, the rainfly lays over.

While it is easiest to set it up footprint-tent-rainfly, it is advisable to learn how to set it up rainfly/footprint-tent.  So that if it is actually raining during setup, the “bathtub bottom” of your tent doesn’t fill like a bathtub.

This is how we set up the tent at the campsite.  And we did great until we got to the sides.  It took us a while but we finally figured out our tent was made by MSR, not RSM.  (We put the rainfly - with the logo - on inside out and the side pole attachments are not ambidextrous.)

But then!  When we put the rainfly on right, we crawled in for a nap.  And immediately decided it was too hot.  So we took the rainfly off.  Except then once the sun set it got too cold and damn who took off the rainfly?

One of the lessons learned I put down in our spreadsheet is that when it’s hot, stay up later and put the rainfly on just as there is so little sun you need your headlamp for the tricky parts.

Other lessons learned…don’t bring chocolate when the temp is above 75.  An extra large bandana makes an awesome shirt when you want to dry out your regular one but don’t want to scare other hikers with your white boobs (there was a cache – I think just a tent (yes, I poked it.  I wanted to look into it but Tom told me not to) at the campsite, but no one came by that day/night/morning).  Just cache the fucking water and drink mightily without a care.

We did get a little sleep, and luckily we packed better this time (more real stuff sacs, less garbage bags) so it was an easy break down in the morning after Starbucks Via and some oatmeal.  The hike out was a shorter loop (around 7.5 miles instead of 11.5), and through some amazing old growth forest with lots of shade.  We also walked through a just burned forest (found a smoking log) and a new growth – maybe 3-4 years.  Those weren’t as shady obviously, but it was pretty cool to walk through so many different habitats.

Then we picked up the dog, came home, showered, ordered pizza, and commenced the great AC panic of 2011.  Since we married in the great AC panic of 2007 (where I evidently used the “evolve sweat glands” joke), I guess I should feel nostalgic.  But somehow all that my brain is picking up from my neurons is HOT.

We did it!  We successfully camped overnight and didn’t kill each other (accidentally or on purpose)!

I’m still not over my cold, but others with the same symptoms have told tale of the cough lingering for a good three weeks.  So why not go camping?

Specifically, why not hike 10+ miles, sleep outside in 40 degree weather, then  hike 9+ miles the next day?

Tom and I have been itching to get a real weekend of hiking under our belts.  We knew we were waiting until after the holidays for an overnight because of scheduling and also the gear we could receive as Christmas gifts.

But with the fall turning out as it did, not only did we have to wait for a camping trip, we did not hike for ANY of November or December.  Which meant we never even did back-to-back hiking days until this weekend.

So, putting my pack on at the trailhead, I felt a little apprehensive.  It felt pretty fucking heavy and uncomfortable.  Was I going to be able to do this for the whole day?  Then lather, rinse, and repeat?

I was also concerned over the State park’s estimate of taking 7 hours to reach our campsite.  It was 9.5 miles, and we’d been under the assumption that our 2 mph average was slow.  Were we wrong in our calculations and had been just hiking less than thought this entire time?

Nope.  Evidently the park’s people like to REALLY pad their numbers.  Or Tom and I are hiking gods.  Take your pick.

We made the hike in 11.2 miles, taking a different route that took us opposite the 2 miles of prairie where we’d gotten lost before.  We managed that, with many pee breaks and one lunch break, in a little over 5 hours.

Everything pretty much went as planned.  Setting up the tent/campsite was easy.  The pitcher pump was easy to work.  Only two things really stuck out as isses:  1) the 2nd part of our water treatment (you mix two separate liquids together to activate, then add to your water) was very difficult to get out the bottle and I actually popped the top with my mighty squeezing, causing me to lose about half the bottle on my hand.  I have to give the company a call to find out if this is a common problem or not.  We might have to change treatment plans.  2) It took a much longer time to get water to boil than we thought.  My guess is we just need to boil less water at a time.

It supposedly got down to 35 that night (no thermometer in our gear…maybe we need one?  I don’t know.  On the one hand it can probably help you decide certain logistics.  On the other it gives you a justification for whining).  But I got warm enough to strip some layers off of me during the night.  Sleeping bag and sleeping pad definite win.  Not to mention my ensemble…

Here we will take a little side trip:  Last year for my birthday, Tom gave me a hot pink leopard print PJ onesie.  Remember the PJs with slippers attached you had as a kid?  Just stretch it to 5’3″ and 140+lbs.  It was…cute, sure.  And appropriately cat-themed for me of course.  But…really?  This is what he chose as my present?  I wasn’t hurt exactly.  Confused, maybe.  It was also way too warm by then to wear in FL, so it sat in the back of my pants drawer for the year.

Cut to: me deciding to pack it as my sleepwear on this trip because I had never worn it damnit and I didn’t have much else to choose from.  The onesie is 100% polyester, which is not perhaps your #1 choice of sleep fabric but fits the bill of cotton-is-death-camping sleep attire.

Oh.  My.  Awesomeness.

It’s large enough for me to fit entirely over all my other clothes, but the feet are thin enough I can still stuff them in my shoes.  And it has pockets!  I put it on an hour or so after we made camp and couldn’t stop singing it’s praises.

I was still chilled enough in the morning that I wore it out of the camp site, only stopping to strip once we were in another prairie, sunny area.  No one saw me (we were too far into the park for day hikers), but I wouldn’t have cared.  While Tom laughed at me at first, I think he was a bit jealous by the end of the trip.

Sadly, it weighs a whopping pound.  That’s way too heavy for it to be considered for long-term hiking gear.  But I sure as hell am going to try and find something comparable.

We woke up Sunday a little sore, and having had bad night’s rest not due to the temperature, but the lack of pillows.  We both use knee pillows at home to support our backs and it is evidently not something we can do without.  A simple fix is to bring our packs in the tent at night and use them as knee props.

At any rate, more important than setting up was that we managed to break down camp with little fuss.  We’d been a bit worried about being able to stuff/re-pack everything correctly once we were out in the field.  I am happy to report, mission accomplished.

We hiked out the recommended 9.4 mile trail, and managed to not get lost!  We averaged a bit slower, about 4 3/4 hours with maybe one or two less breaks.  But that was through almost twice as much exposed-to-the-elements hiking as the previous days walk.  I’m definitely leaning towards forested areas as hiking possibilities.

So, all in all, despite soreness and lessons learned, a rousing success!  I’m not saying we can hack it for 6 months straight, but we’re one step closer.

This is the second title and third post I’ve started.  Damnit, I’m finishing it.

Since mentioning that we were training to hike six months on end, we’ve done less and less.  I don’t know where you’re from but if you’ve reading this you’ve got internet access.  Check out the weekly highs in Tampa, FL.  Go on.  We’ll wait…

85…86…88??!?

Hi.  Welcome to my fall.

The first long hike we did in this heat, we were woefully unprepared.  We didn’t bring near enough water.  Luckily, my body is a bit more in shape than Tom’s (thank you, pool, dumbbells, elliptical, and volunteer manual labor), I was able to shoulder more of the work (literally, we switched packs and saved him over 10 lbs on his back).

The second time, not only did we prepare but we hiked a trail with rest stops and coolers.  But it was a bike trail.  With no shade and asphalt.  I think we felt worse than before, with no flora or fauna to distract us.

By the way, a great way to meet people is carry a 20+ pound pack on a day hiking trail.  It’s not something that goes unnoticed.

Since then, each weekend we’ve suggested to each other smaller and smaller hikes.  One weekend we did a beach drive which allowed for a dip in the bay before going home.  Last weekend we just walked around our neighborhood a lot.

I yearn to get back to putting a heavy pack on my back and decent mileage under my feet.  And I’m glad we’ve done some in the FL heat.  But damn.  I am sick of walking a mile at 6:30am and sweating.

You may remind me of this post after our first December camping adventure.

This summer, Tom and I started training to thru-hike the Appalachian trail. 

(Which will now and forever be abbreviated to the AT because while I have a strong desire to walk it, I have no desire to spell it)

Between Springer, GA and Baxter, ME.  Roughly 2,180 miles. 

I’m not sure if this is a surprise to anyone.  We’ve known I’m crazy for a long time.  And of course, perhaps it’s not a surprise to anyone that we are talking about thru-hiking.  It’s maybe a trifle eyebrow-raising that we’re training for it.  The proof will be in the pudding, specifically the pudding our knees will be after 2,180 miles.

(I have no idea how to calculate real hiking miles.  Most hikers go into town every few days to at least restock food supplies, if not stay the night in a real bed and grab a shower.  Sometimes towns are right on the trail, sometimes over 10 miles away.  Sometimes you can get a ride, sometimes you can’t.)

What I do know, for now, is that we will plan to try a hike the entire trail in 6 months.  We will, as they say NOBO it.  That is, hike Northbound from Georgia to Maine.

Why?

Because it’s there.  Because we like to hike.  Because we enjoy the outdoors.  Because I’ve never had a strong relationship with deodorant or a razor.  Because we can stand each other’s company for more than 12 hours at a time.  Because traditional career/social/family roles don’t appeal to us.

Because we’re crazy.  And we really like to hike.