What I found in the Pennsylvania backcountry

[MarxistPanda]

I found a really good walking stick; but that's not what this is all about.

 

 

Before I get started with the story I'm going to explain why the following was a big deal for me. It may sound like a sob story at first but you'll just have to bear with me. I was born with a genetic disorder known as Marfan Syndrome. Now, if you Google this condition you're going to get a lot of pictures of very deformed individuals. I, however have a mild case of the disease in comparison to the advanced cases you are likely to see. I have multiple skeletal deformities which have caused scoliosis and hip dysfunction. These are the important things to remember about my condition. Everything else would just be adding to the pity pile.

 

I decided I wanted to go backpacking. Yeah. Now knowing that I have scoliosis and hip problems you're probably wondering why I would ever want to hike for days with a heavy backpack. The answer starts with a video game and Nerd Fitness. I was a lot like Steve whenever he came to the wonderful affinity that eventually led him to creating this community. My game of choice, however, was Skyrim. Hopefully anyone reading this is familiar with Skryim or has invested hundreds of hours into the game since it has been released. If you have, you know how easy this is to do. The game is incredibly immersive, and very modable. I downloaded mods that enhanced the immersion of the game even higher. Backpacks, camping, basic needs, anything that made me feel like I was there, or being that character. Something to take me away from the life I was living. The fact that I needed pain killers just to make it through a work day (I work as a retail manager so I walk briskly on concrete floors all day). I had always been an outdoorsmen so these types of mods appealed to me. I loved to camp and practice survival skills, but my conditions 'prevented' me from putting everything together.

 

I stumbled upon Nerd Fitness whenever I had had enough. I had been broken. I just recovered from a kidney stone and I was in more pain physically than just about any other time in my life. I was smoking heavily and basically living on energy drinks and Aleve. I read some of the articles and my first reaction was basically; “Holy **** this guy is awesome!†So I continued reading, found the basic body weight exercises and got motivated.

 

It sucked. The first week of doing these circuits was very painful, but I had the willpower to push hard. I felt worse than I did before I started, but there was a feeling right after the workout that told me it would all work out in the end. So I pushed even harder. I tracked my progress, how many reps I did, how long it took me. I also started eating better. I cut the energy drinks out and only drank water, milk, and green tea. I cut out crap food and replaced it with more nutritious filling foods like almonds and dried fruit for snacks. I also quit smoking after a few weeks, which was obviously the best cardio exercise I could have possibly done.

 

Eventually I started to feel good, and then I felt a lot better. I had more energy, I felt stronger and more in control. I wasn't having migraines and my kidneys were operating as designed. My lower back felt better, with the exception of a few flare-ups. I eventually found a way to stabilize my hip using exercises several times a day.

 

So one night playing Skyrim I was unpacking my tent, setting up my camp fire. And then it hit me. Like getting Fus Ro Dah'd off the Throat of the World. I could be doing this for real. I had the skills, I had a lot of the equipment. I just needed a proper pack, and I would be set!

 

Now, don't assume that I just jumped into this without doing any research. I spent hours researching backpacking in general, and where to backpack. I spend a good deal of money updating my equipment, too, which has an interesting motivational effect. It's harder to not do something whenever you're spending a ton of money on it. At least it is for me.

 

Right, so I had my gear, had my route, just needed to work out the logistics. This is actually where my first 'beast mode' moment comes. I know; logistics and 'beast mode' don't always go together. Originally I was going to have my girlfriend follow me to where I was going to get off the trail, park my car, then have her drive me to where I was going to get on the trail, then just hike to my car. Well, due to travel time and when she got off work I wouldn't hit the trial until evening and have three hours to hike six miles to the shelter area, set up camp, and cook dinner before nightfall. I wasn't so sure about that. So then I had two options. I could drive out solo and park where I was going to start, hike six miles, camp, then hike six miles back. That didn't sound like it would be worth it to me. I wanted something I would be proud of doing. My other option would be to park at the end, hike eleven miles, camp, then hike the eleven miles back. That sounded more like an accomplishment. I pulled up the elevation profile for that section of the trail and it didn't seem so bad (elevation profiles don't really tell you a whole lot about a trail unless you really know what you're looking for). I made the plans for the weekend, reserved my site at the shelter area and waited.

 

When I got to the trailhead I parked, got my gear out, put my pack on (which took forever to adjust to my oddly shaped long thin torso) and turned on my camera to take pictures of the signs at the trailhead. Long story short the card was junk and I left my camera in my trunk. I figured I would be thankful without the weight. And so I started off. The first thing I noticed was that the trail was very eroded and the rocks had my ankles sore after a few miles. I was feeling pretty good, regardless. The ridge in the morning was beautiful and I got to explore some awesome rock formations. I tracked my pace at about two miles per hours which was pretty fast for a beginner backpacker. The thirty pounds on my back started to dig in after about five miles, and I found myself desperate to see the next mile marker.

 

It felt damn good to reach the half-way point. Here, I knew that it wouldn't matter if I turned back or pressed on. It was the same distance, and if I was going to hike six miles I would rather be victorious at the end. I had lunch and kept moving. The last four miles were the hardest. My feet were starting to get sore, I knew I had blisters but I didn't want to stop long enough to mend them. I figured I would have plenty of time to deal with them whenever I got to camp. They weren’t going anywhere. The trail grew more varied, and going downhill was almost as bad as going uphill because I had the weight of the backpack trying to push me faster down the hill. I was still in high hopes. I was accomplishing something. The more suck I drug myself through, the bigger my smile would be at the end. At two points the trail was so steep it zig-zagged up the ridge.

 

I was fairly beat by the time I made it to the shelter area, but I spent some time checking out my surroundings. I even made it there two hours before I thought I would (which I later realized wasn't really a good thing). No one was in the lean-to like shelters but it was early yet. I found the tent site fireplace and set up my Hennessy Hammock near it but far enough away to avoid sparks and a particularly nasty looking dead limb on one of the trees. I had run out of water, and the pump at the shelter site didn't work or the water level was too low, so I hiked about a mile back to get water from a stream. My blisters were very apparent at this point and it was a challenge to get back up the hill to camp. I set about purifying the water and getting dinner ready while I looked at my feet. One foot had three blisters the size of quarters and the other had two smaller blisters. It was bad. I knew then that I should have worn different boots or different socks. My first aid kit was well stocked with everything but foot care. My best solution was band-aids and duct tape.

 

 

For the next few hours I ate, nursed my fire, and just kind of hung out, reflecting on what I'd done. I was beat, but I felt good. I was doing this.

 

 

The next morning I rolled out of my hammock later than I wanted to. The night was full of broken sleep. The widowmaker I purposely avoided fell in the middle of the night, so I woke up every time there was a gust of wind after that. When I put my feet in my boots and stood I almost went to my knees. The blisters on my feet felt worse than before. I wasn't sure if I could go on, but as I was pondering this I was putting fresh bandages and tape on my blisters, slipping on fresh socks and putting my boots on. For me the trick to staying motivated is momentum. It makes the world go round after all. If I stay moving it is easier to stay moving. I hurried up with breakfast, repacked my bag and headed out. My feet were feeling better, but that could have been a bit of mind over matter.

 

Being that my return trip would be a mirror of my first trip I knew what to expect. Dispite my feet being in the condition they were in I felt good. I felt at once worn out and worn in. I was tired, but my body was starting to understand what was expected of it.

 

 

Again, the final four miles were the hardest, but I pushed through them, taking breaks every mile to have a drink, or just take a breather. Never more than five or ten minutes. It was all about momentum. I found a walking stick that made the climbs and descents a bit easier.

 

When I saw my ridiculously yellow car parked in the nearest spot to the trail-head I found a bit more energy to push harder. When I eased my pack into my trunk it felt like I was letting go a thousand pounds from my shoulders. It was more than my gear (which I have since shaved a few pounds from) I was shrugging off years of thinking I was too broken to do anything. Years of excuses and justifications. I sat down on my bumper and pulled my boots off to rest in the sun for a bit. I found who I was out there. No longer would my life be defined by the deformities that make my body different. The things that are different about me would henceforth become my armor, a shield to protect me from the hardships in life. You could say that the ridge reforged me into a new man, but I'd like to take the credit for that. I'm proud of the 22 miles I did during those two days, and there is no one that would take that from me. I plan on working my way up to doing all 70 miles of the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail in a five day trip. It's going to be hard, but if I just maintain momentum I'll be fine. Those miles taught me a lot; what I needed to do differently, and what I needed to invest in (better boots and socks mainly). I'll be stronger next time, better prepared. I hope to do a weekend on the trail before winter hits, and I hike a few miles with my gear on days that I'm not doing strength training.

 

I guess what I want people to take from this is that sometimes things have to be broken in order to be rebuilt, and that most of the time YOU have to be the one that does the rebuilding. You'll thank yourself for it afterward.

[ShadowSilk]

This is a fantastic achievement for you, and a great inspiration.  Thank you so very much for sharing your story with us. 

[StarGazer]

Amazing! Thanks for sharing!

[Maledictus]

 I found a walking stick that made the climbs and descents a bit easier.

 

 

I guess what I want people to take from this is that sometimes things have to be broken in order to be rebuilt, and that most of the time YOU have to be the one that does the rebuilding. You'll thank yourself for it afterward.

 

Congratulations.  Sounds amazing.  Well done.  Could have done with more info on the stick but other than that, superb