appalachian trail tag

Sensory Underload: Ninety Minutes Inside An Isolation Tank

Because 5 months in the woods wasn’t enough to isolate me from the surrounding world, I decided to kick it up a notch.

While on my little walk thingy, I became a big fan of the Joe Rogan Experience podcast.  It served as my social fix when I wasn’t in the mood for actual interaction.  For those who are unfamiliar, Joe Rogan is a stand up comedian/UFC commentator/host of Fear Factor/Carlos Mencia basher.

One of the many reoccurring theme’s on the podcast is Rogan’s fascination with introspection.  In several episodes, he would reference a “sensory deprivation tank” (aka isolation tank/flotation tank) that he had set up in his house.  The tank, as Rogan puts it, “is the most important tool that [he’s] ever used for developing [his] mind“.  This, coming from someone who is an outspoken proponent of both psychedelic drugs and marijuana.

Naturally my curiosity was piqued.

For those who are unfamiliar (me, as of 3 months ago) an isolation tank is basically a giant metal coffin with about a foot of salt water at the bottom.  The water is heated to the same temperature as a human body, eventually resulting in an inability to feel the water.  After an individual gets inside and shuts the door behind them, there is only total darkness.  Once the water settles, the only sound you can hear is your own breath.  Because the water is extremely dense – about 800 lbs. of Epsom salt is dissolved into it – a human body, which is made mostly of water, floats very easily.  The theory goes that because there is no sensory input causing distraction to your brain, the mind is left to more freely wander.  Beneficial claims include everything from pure rest and relaxation, to improved health and vitality, to being a shortcut toward enlightenment.

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14 Days Later: Life After the Appalachian Trail

Is this real life?

I’ve been awake for about two weeks now. The previous five months were merely a dream.

You see, reality comes equipped with these little nuisances, we call “responsibilities”. In the dream, there was only one responsibility: “don’t die”.

Over the past five months I have stripped myself of excess. This not only refers to the physical comforts: a wardrobe, electronic entertainment on demand, artificial scents, food that expires, etc., but also all of the artificial bullshit that comes along with it. I wasn’t concerned with schedules – hell, over the last two months, I didn’t even have a watch. There was only day, night, and whatever shades that lie in between.

Today, I’m confronted with the task of re-integration. For anyone who hasn’t spent a half year removed from reality, you may have trouble empathizing with how difficult a task this really is. I’m not asking for your sympathy, I am fully aware how spoiled a lifestyle a long distance backpacker lives.

On a regular basis, I would come across a beautiful mountain overlook, waterfall, boulder field, etc. On a whim, I could stop, lie down, and soak in the day- and I often did. You sleep when you’re tired, eat when you’re hungry, relax when your lazy, and walk when you have energy. In the dream, you do as you please, when you please. The dream was awesome extract.

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5 Million Steps in 5 Minutes: Badger’s Appalachian Trail Video Slideshow

Badger before and after on the Appalachian Trail

In the picture above, you are witness to what happens when a ginger head lays unattended for five months.  Despite it’s inherent ability to repel women, the beard will remain an indefinite resident of my face.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Over the past five months, I have done my best to paint you a picture of what life looks like on the Appalachian Trail- with words.  Today, I paint this picture with, well, pictures.

The video below highlights some of my favorite pictures taken over the course of my five months on the Appalachian Trail.  I’ve been off the trail for less than a week and this slideshow already makes me feel super nostalgic.  I’ve been told that the AT will leave a permanent emotional mark.  I’m starting to understand this first hand.

Luckily I can tell people the tears on my face are merely beads of reverse-gravity beard sweat.

Quick side notes:

1)  All of the pictures were taken with my iPhone 4

2) The songs in the video below, “The Day is Coming” and “Wonderful (The Way I Feel)” are from My Morning Jacket’s latest album Circuitular.  I listened to this album no fewer than 30 times, therefore it has a strong emotional connection to the trail for me – thus my reason for the selection.

3) I saw a total of one rainbow while on the trail (photo included in the video).  It just so happened to appear while I was listening to Radiohead’s album In Rainbows.  Coincidence?

4) The video is actually much closer to six minutes. I didn’t think that “Five Million Steps in Six Minutes,” had the same ring. No need to point this out.

Enjoy.

Update: apparently YouTube is blocking the video because of the songs….trying Vimeo….stay posted.

Problem = resolved.  For anyone who’s interested, this is how you can legally bypass YouTube’s audio copyright block.

Last Lap-itis

I write this from the cement patio floor of a frat house at Dartmouth College. This is completely irrelevant to the proceeding post- but how could I not mention that?

You know that uneasy feeling you get when some significant stage in your life is nearing its conclusion? Maybe you’ve experienced this during your senior year of high school, or college, or before moving to a new city or leaving a job, or the end of a meaningful relationship. You’re still in the midst of it, but once you let your mind wander just a little bit forward in time, you can sense the end. I call this “Last Lap-itis”.

I have a severe case of Last Lap-itis.

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The War of Nutrition

You should definitely pay attention to this post if you are:

1) Planning on doing any sort of extended backing packing trip in the future, and

2) A sweaty individual

You can still pay attention if you are only one or none of these things, but you have less to gain (other than a sense of superiority over Badger).

So in the “Rolling with the Rocks” post, I lightly detailed some of the longer term physical ailments I had been battling. Admittedly, I had underplayed the degree to which I was suffering.

Starting in approximately mid to late May, when northern Virginia was hit by an unseasonable heat wave, I really learned that the Appalachian Trail is a three season sport. The temperatures during this stretch got into the mid 90’s, with the heat index (the feeling outside according to human skin) reaching into triple figures. Although it has cooled off a bit since, our average day has been in the mid to upper 80s.

A little biological background on Badger: I am a sweaty dude (I think it’s all the hair?). After going for a run, I have been questioned on multiple occasions if “I had just jumped into a pool, or something?” No. I perspire the same way I do most things in life, excessively and intensely.

So what happens when you put a 30 lb pack on a professional perspirer, tell him to walk up a mountain, and the outside temperature feels like 100 degrees? Funny you should ask- I will tell you.

Well for starters, a hospital visit.

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A Day in the Life of An Appalachian Trail Thru-Hiker

Many of my posts attempt to paint broad strokes of life on the Appalachian Trail. Whether it be the social dynamics, the concept of trail magic, or the personal growth that comes from a few challenging weeks– I have a tendency to try and place all events into a larger, overarching theme.

But not every event on the trail fits under the category of a challenge, learning lesson, or cultural oddity. Some days- are just days.

And some days- are just good days.

Allow me to paint the picture of a good day on the Appalachian Trail for you.

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Free Stuff Fridays: Caption Contest #1

Do you like free stuff?

Of course you do. I do too. All humans do. It’s coded into our DNA. It’s what separates us from chimps.

You know what’s even better than free stuff? Free useful stuff.

And that’s why you could be in store for a good ass day (figuratively, not literally – I’m sure your butt has 7 good days a week).

Badger’s official AT footwear and outerwear sponsor, Hi-Tec, has been generous enough to hook you guys with some useful free stuff.

I know– pretty damn sweet.

Here’s how it works:

Each Friday for the next four weeks, I will post a picture from the trail. In the comments section below, you provide your comical caption. Each week I will select the funniest submission as the winner. That’s it.

Also– I will announce the winner on the Good Badger Facebook page– so be sure to “Like” the page. You don’t have to actually like it, that’s asking too much. Just click the thumbs up button at the top.

This week, the awesome item up to be won is the V-Lite Altitude Max WPi (pictured below).

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And here’s this week’s photo.

Giant Slug

Insert Funny Anecdote


Make Zach LOL below (please use an active email address so I can contact you). The winner will be announced on Monday.

Get some.

Rolling With The Rocks: Learning Lessons From the Trail

It was early February of this very same year. My mom, along with one of her long time friends, had come to visit me in San Diego.

Over lunch, we began discussing my upcoming, seemingly insane adventure of an entirely inexperienced camper going into the woods for a half year backpacking trip- covering the length of the East Coast.

My mom’s friend asked how I thought I would respond to the trail’s more challenging moments. A very fair question, and one I had spent the previous two months wondering myself.

Quickly my mom interjected, “you know Zach, if you end up hating it, there’s no shame in leaving the trail early. There’s no good reason to force something you don’t enjoy upon yourself.”

At this point in my life, any response other than the one I had just received from my mom would have been a major surprise. She wants nothing more than for her kids to be happy, comfortable, and above all, safe.

That’s why I knew my response to her would cause alarm.

“You know what the weird thing about this trip is? I hope parts of it suck…I hope parts of it suck beyond belief. If I come out of this without any struggle- I don’t think I will have received the full experience. I will have missed an opportunity for growth. To answer your question I look forward to the trail’s challenges.

Fast forward to June 17, 2011

The day began with stiff joints and sore muscles. Not uncommon following a 27 mile day, especially one covering some of the rockiest terrain experienced on trail thus far. Fourteen hours of backpacking doesn’t exactly leave much energy in the tank for the necessary stretching or care taking. Upon rising I was immediately paying the consequences. As I sat up in the crowded, mini-shelter (known to be the home of a nearby Copperhead Snake as mentioned in the trail register), the swollen feet pain was immediately met by the realization that I had scheduled another 24 miles for myself today. ShitFuck.

As is usually the case- a few miles of walking tends to numb any sort of pain you were experiencing to start the day. Today was no exception. I’m no doctor, but I’m guessing that the human body eventually gives up on sending pain signals once it realizes the individual is too stubborn to alter their behavior accordingly.

Before leaving the day’s first resting point- we note that the next spot to get water is 12 miles away. This span- would involve 85 degrees of direct sunlight and what appeared in our guide book to be a pretty serious climb- at least by Pennsylvania’s standards. I load my pack up with 4 liters of water (almost 9 extra lbs) to prepare for the upcoming stretch.

Upon crossing Lehigh river it was quickly apparent that this climb was not only steep and into a looming dark sky, but the terrain was a sheer rock face, rendering my hiking poles useless.

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(the iPhone wordpress app doesn’t allow me to rotate an image. Get your shit together wordpress)

Much of the ascent was so intense that I had to throw my poles ahead of me because climbing required the use of all four limbs. A misstep or faulty rock meant a steep fall and a very bloody Badger. Add 40 lbs onto my back and a heightened state of alertness became an involuntary response.

To my surprise, I summit the mountain without breaking my face open. Because this particular stretch is so rocky- there are very few tress to obscure my view of the awesome lightning storm happening to the mountain range just to the west. I just hoped it was moving in any direction other than towards me.

I wasn’t so lucky.

As the lightning storm moved closer to me – and my metal hiking poles – my pace began to increase. It wasn’t until I hit the rocky descent that the rain and lightning really intensified. Perspective was gained that what I did on the way up the mountain was more challenging than it was dangerous. Now I was hopping from wet, jagged boulder to wet, jagged boulder with lightning striking in all directions of me. This was more dangerous than challenging- and still very challenging.

Before I know it- I’ve reached the gap (the bottom of the mountain). The whole experience was so intense it felt like it couldn’t have lasted longer than 30-45 minutes. In reality- I had just covered 5 miles- in just over two hours. Apparently time flies when you’re about to die.

….

This is just one challenging day of many in the recent past.

Add to the above that I’ve been battling pretty severe headaches for over a week (enough so that I made a hospital visit to be tested for Lyme Disease) – a near constant battle with Mosquitos, ticks, and gnats, and a brutal heat wave – and, well…

I got what I was asking for.

This stretch has “sucked beyond belief”.

Well, at least, it should have sucked beyond belief.

Despite all of the elements going against what would be considered “perfect”- I’ve managed to keep a clear, appreciative mind-state (at least relatively so).

I’m learning to roll with the punches- whether the punches be rocks, lightning, dehydration, or parasites. The woods have a way of keeping perspective. A perspective that life will deal to you what it will – it’s up to you to decide how these elements are perceived.

I perceive a life of walking in the woods. What more could I ask for?