Thru Hiking Quotes

A significant fraction of thru-hikers reach Katahdin, then turn around and start back to Georgia. They just can't stop walking, which kind of makes you wonder.

I remember reading somewhere that there are only two possible prayers: “help me” and “thank you.” “Thank you,” I say to the universe, before I fall asleep.

no place is how you expect it to be, and the best thing to do is to not want things in the first place.

They say there's a long, narrow ribbon of space-time that stretches from Mexico to Canada. I hear you can live there, for a little while, as long as you keep moving. But be careful, it will break your heart.  

In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth or to step back, into safety. -Abraham Maslow

She introduced people to the A.T., and at the same time she made the thru-hike achievable. It didn’t take fancy equipment, guidebooks, training, or youthfulness. It took putting one foot in front of the other—five million times.

The trail will only provide if you accept its offer. All of it. You must leave home. You must be broken. It will cost you your entire life as you know it. And then, and only then, can you receive. What you receive will be far greater than anything you had or anything you lost. It will change you. It might even heal you.

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. -Anais Nin

Never quit on a bad day.

Vrijeme na thru hikeu gotovo da i ne postoji. U današnjem svijetu satova čovjek je izgubio pojam o tome što znači živjeti neograničen vremenom. Vrijeme je suprotnost vječnosti. Vječnost je božanska. Osjetiti vječnost znači osjetiti svemir i njegov spokoj. Tek kroz spokoj čovjek biva izmijenjen.

Time disappears, and it is just me and the mountain, and the wind. I have always been in this windstorm, I think, as I fight my way forward. And I will always be in this windstorm. Up ahead, on a ridge, is a single tree. Someday, I think, I am going to be reincarnated as that tree. As punishment for every choice I've ever made. Or as a reward.  

I’ve spent every waking moment nurturing and maintaining my relationship with this eighteen-inch by 2660-mile ribbon of dirt.

I’ve been eating this shit for so long that I’ve transcended the need to actually enjoy my food. No more desires. Eat to live, not live to eat.

Why is it that I can't be content to live a normal life? Why do I spiral into depression when I am away from the wilderness for too long?

The trail should be enjoyed, and when joy is difficult to achieve, personal growth should become the focus. Still,

I think about how no place is how you expect it to be, and the best thing to do is to not want things in the first place. But it’s so hard to do that. So hard.

Like with any journey, it’s not what you carry, but what you leave behind.

How long before all grief is accounted for and I can begin the tedious process of sorting through the tangled barrels, picking off the useful bits, letting the wind carrying the rest away.

There really is no correct way to hike the trail, and anyone who insists that there is ought not to worry so much about other people's experiences. Hikers need to hike the trail that's right for them...

All kinds of people have completed thru-hikes. One man hiked it in his eighties. Another did it on crutches. A blind man named Bill Irwin hiked the trail with a seeing-eye dog, falling down an estimated 5,000 times in the process. Probably the most famous, certainly the most written about, of all thru-hikers was Emma "Grandma" Gatewood, who successfully hiked the trail twice in her late sixties despite being eccentric, poorly equipped, and a danger to herself. (She was forever getting lost.)

I love you", says the doug-fir. "I love you so much." I can feel the tree there, the tree underneath me the tree all around me, the tree inside of me. The trees holding each other holding the soil holding me. The trees more patient than anything, save the ocean. The trees with the long view. I can feel their pity- "Little mammal", they say, "with your two legs. Running around saying Where Do I Belong. Making value judgments on the wind, the flowers in the springtime, the shapes of the stars. Little mammal with your trembling heart. I am your home and I love you and I will always be here.

I’d never set foot on the AT, but I’d heard much about it from the guys at Kennedy Meadows. It was the PCT’s closest kin and yet also its opposite in many ways. About two thousand people set out to thru-hike the AT each summer, and though only a couple hundred of them made it all the way, that was far more than the hundred or so who set out on the PCT each year. Hikers on the AT spent most nights camping in or near group shelters that existed along the trail. On the AT, resupply stops were closer together, and more of them were in real towns, unlike those along the PCT, which often consisted of nothing but a post office and a bar or tiny store. I imagined the Australian honeymooners on the AT now, eating cheeseburgers and guzzling beer in a pub a couple of miles from the trail, sleeping by night under a wooden roof. They’d probably been given trail names by their fellow hikers, another practice that was far more common on the AT than on the PCT, though we had a way of naming people too. Half the time that Greg, Matt, and Albert had talked about Brent they’d referred to him as the Kid, though he was only a few years younger than me. Greg had been occasionally called the Statistician because he knew so many facts and figures about the trail and he worked as an accountant. Matt and Albert were the Eagle Scouts, and Doug and Tom the Preppies. I didn’t think I’d been dubbed anything, but I got the sinking feeling that if I had, I didn’t want to know what it was.

Gumption is the most important thing for a thru-hiker to maintain. Compare rounds of golf, one played while keeping score and one in which you hit a mulligan every time you are unhappy with a shot. In the latter case, being on the golf course loses significance. Rounds that are memorable are the ones that you make count. In a broader context, all rounds of golf are of no consequence, whether score is kept or not. But you are the center of your own universe. You are free to create meaning for yourself. When you attempt to capture the highlights without burdening yourself with the tedium, the highlights lose the foundation that elevates them to the status of “highlight.” Analogies abound because a focused attitude defines the quality of all that we do. In playing a game, dieting, or hiking the AT, you benefit

I am reinforced in my belief that walking a continuous path and sticking with the white blazes is the best way for me to hike. My attitude about this is not rigidity for the sake of principle or unfeeling discipline done out of habitual compliance. More at issue is doing things in a way that enables me to sustain purpose and drive. I will do some things on this hike that will make purists cringe. But if I were to blue-blaze away a chunk of trail, or leave miles to be done “later,” then it would be tempting to pare away even more of the trail, eventually concluding that there is no purpose to it. Gumption is the most important thing for a thru-hiker to maintain. Compare rounds of golf, one played while keeping score and one in which you hit a mulligan every time you are unhappy with a shot. In the latter case, being on the golf course loses significance. Rounds that are memorable are the ones that you make count. In a broader context, all rounds of golf are of no consequence, whether score is kept or not. But you are the center of your own universe. You are free to create meaning for yourself.

Until 2008 the mosquitoes on Cape Hatteras were the worst I’d ever experienced. That would all change once we stepped foot into Sky Lakes Wilderness in southern Oregon during my second thru-hike of the PCT. The Oregon snowpack during the previous winter had been well above average, which left lingering snow in the high country that summer. P.O.D. and I had been on a faster pace than I had in 2004 on the PCT and we ended up being in Sky Lakes Wilderness about 3 weeks earlier which was theoretically about six weeks earlier considering the timeframe of the snow melt. Long story short, we showed up during the peak of the mosquito season. The mosquitoes in Sky Lakes made those in Cape Hatteras look like lazy houseflies. It was beyond brutal. We were lucky to escape without requiring a transfusion.

Experiencing the outdoors or – even better, the untamed wilderness – imparts a certain wisdom about what is truly needed to be happy. Though material pleasures do provide a sense of achievement, a feel-good factor if you like, I worked out many moons ago that the feeling is only ever temporary. Two weeks after buying a car it’s just a car. Your bright, shiny new mobile phone is exciting for a couple of days and then you look for the improved version. It’s only a fake pleasure. If you’re after true fulfilment, I say take a walk in the wilderness.

In the spring of 2015, Warren started the Appalachian Trail in Georgia. At age sixty-five, he was a walking contradiction. His white beard clashed with his youthful eyes, his soft, round stomach opposed his rectangular rack-solid calves, and his welcoming smile conflicted with his focused gaze. A finish in Maine would mark his eighteenth thru hike of the 2,189 mile footpath. The circumference of the earth is 24,903 miles; Warren had recorded over 36,000 miles between Springer Mountain and Katahdin.

There was no defining moment, no end result, and no sudden enlightenment. I had waited for it in vain when I should have been living in the moment, enjoying a journey, my journey, my time on this planet.

There was no defining moment, no end result, and no sudden enlightenment. I had waited for it in vain when I should have been living in the moment, enjoying a journey

Truth be told, I don’t think most thru-hikers hike the 3.5 miles of trail outside of Monson. Shaw’s, the famous hiker hostel in town, runs a morning shuttle right to the 100-Mile Wilderness trailhead on Route 15, and it’s easy to miss these miles unless you’re an AT purist and make a point to hike every step from Georgie to Maine.

If you bail out each time a honeymoon period ends, you won’t ever follow through with any worthwhile challenge in life. Relationships

What are you doing?” he shouts, waving his free arm in the air. “Trying to get to Canada,” says Instigate. “Why?

If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else." - Yogi Berra

It seemed funny that in the wild we had millions of acres to pitch a tent, but when we reached town there was no availability and, even if there was, we would have to pay for it.

One of my most enjoyable experiences was listening to the wind rush through the forest. It struck me several times how simple this phenomenon was. It transported me to an almost primitive era, before technology took over the free time of collective society

I could lie down in a sunlit clearing and sleep forever. Let the forest digest me.

Porcupines will frequent shelters as they like to gnaw on the salt-encrusted edge of the platform floor – exactly where hikers tend to sit and congregate with their salty legs hanging over the edge.

What we call “reality” is really just an interpretation of events based on prior life experiences. So if reality is a byproduct of our perceptions, it’s our job to rewire how we perceive tough times. We need to look at the glass as half full.

On the other side of the valley are more mountains, partly cloaked in smog. Rows of wind turbines march across the valley floor. As I walk, I imagine that I am leaving the enchanted mountains and descending into the windy valley of a dark lord. The

PCT THRU-HIKER ADVICE: “Pack light, don't take extra #$!@ you don't need, and don't wear hiking boots for the love of God! Oh, and remember to bring Choffee.” KRAV

They say that the way you do one thing is the way you do everything,

She smells like hotel soap and the mountains, like wind and fabric softener.

When I climb into my tent I feel happy and light. I’ve gone twenty-nine miles today, my longest day ever. Ever ever.

Petrichor,

Wishing that your day were anything other than what is, is the fastest path to dissatisfaction. It may sound overly simplistic, but there really is great power in acceptance. In finding peace with what is, you will notice a sudden weight lift from your shoulders and your struggle will dissipate.

Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re right. - Henry Ford

Hiking a long-distance trail is not about giving up six months of your life. It’s about having six months to live.

The rocks of Pennsylvania ranged from smaller than a golf ball to larger than a picnic basket. Some were half buried and immovable toe-stubbers, others shifted dangerously underfoot. They were universally sharp-edged and largely unavoidable. Or at least, bypassing any given one just meant stepping and stumbling over others. The rocks of Pennsylvania provided a level of obstacle heretofore unseen on trail. Ruts and potholes threatened to snap ankles, piercing points stabbed into trail-sore feet and larger stones teetered unexpectedly. More than brute strength or stamina, hiking over these rocks required fine-motor control, balance and mental acuity. Each and every foot placement required blink-quick consideration and an exacting precision that was no less fatiguing than hiking up mountains all day long. The rocks of Pennsylvania weren’t simply physically demanding and mentally taxing. They were emotionally challenging as well. After more than a thousand miles, thru-hikers had grown accustomed to moving along at certain rates of speed. Over rocks, those rates became unrealistic. For many, readjusting to this slower pace was an infuriating experience, much like driving a shiny new Corvette round and round a parking lot littered with speed bumps.

Many people just sit behind their steering wheel, scared to venture into the wilderness.

My relationship with thru-hiking has typically been love in hindsight rather than love at first sight.

You’d think, too, that at this point in the trail I’d have this figured out. And maybe I have. Maybe I know exactly how much food I should bring, and I chose not to bring it.

I am, at this point, what Instigate calls “vista'd out-” I barely see the views. In fact, I have grown very, very weary of them. Ridgelines, bah! The convoluted surface of the earth! Light and shadow! I am over all of it.

The hikers are all starting to look the same to me -- fit white dudes in safari wear, powering over the passes faster than I will ever be able to. One of these hikers is wearing a sort of sweat-soaked towel around his neck, and presently he stands above the trough and wrings out the towel into the water. Today the spring is running, and a little water trickles from the pipe into the trough. But the spring is not always running, and hikers after us will have to filter directly from the stone trough. No bueno, I think. Another man, dressed nearly identically, appears and dips his sweaty shirt into the trough. No bueno, I think again.

Somewhere on the trail was supposedly a cluster of thru-hikers who’d formed a group called The Vortex. As in, once you got sucked in, all hopes you ever had of completing the PCT this year were pretty much gone.  All I knew about them was that they prided themselves on the fact they’d taken forty zeroes thus far, hadn’t missed a bar between here and Campo, and never hiked more than fifteen miles a day.

When I get home I spend a few hours typing customer service emails and working on the listings in my online bookstore, which is the other half, besides the dog-walking, of what I call my “Portland hustle”- the way I make my living in this strange city where hipsters with masters degrees fight each other for barista jobs.

Size, we are told, is not important. This maxim is not applicable to bears. The size of a bear is in fact directly proportional to the fear it strikes into one’s heart.

I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude” – Henry David Thoreau

Letting yourself fall into a trap is a huge mistake. If you bail out each time a honeymoon period ends, you won’t ever follow through with any worthwhile challenge in life.

Both Forry and Lichter had hiked the entire Pacific Crest Trail in summer — itself an ultimate test of endurance (fewer people have thru-hiked the full trail than have climbed Mount Everest).

HIKER GLOSSERY AT- Appalachian Trail - The most populated and most difficult terrain of the three longest trails in the USA Aqua Blazing- Canoeing instead of hiking a section of the trail in the Shenandoahs. Bear Cables- A system to easily hang up food bags. Bear bagging- Hanging food up high in a tree. Bivy Sack- A lightweight waterproof shelter that has bad condensation Blow Down- A fallen tree or limb blocking the trail Blue Blazer- A hiker that takes short cut trails or more scenic trails that lead back to the main trail Bushwhack- To hike where there is no trail /to clear a trail with a machete. CDT- The Continental Divide Trail - The most secluded and least populated of the three longest US trails. Cowboy Camping- to sleep on the ground with no shelter Cairn- Pile of rocks to depict where the trail is located when above treeline Day Hiker- Usually a novice who is out for the day or several days. DEET- A heavy duty bug spray. Drop Box- Food or gear sent by mail. Five Fingers - Shoes with toes. Flip-Flopper- A thru-hiker who hikes one way, then skips ahead to hike the opposite direction Gators- A piece of gear worn around the ankle to keep dirt from entering shoes Giardia- Parasites that cause diarrhea from drinking unclean water.

When you have such a close brush with death, life seems that much more valuable.

If a seeker arrives at the Oficina del Peregrino as part of the procession and expects a bequeathment of wisdom, matters of the heart, and bravery, he or she will be sorely disappointed. This is not the land of Oz. Unquestionably, these rewards and more are out there but must be dearly earned along the journey and beyond.

two out of every three people who attempt to climb Mount Whitney are not successful.

On passing the woman for the third time, I stop to ask how it was that we continued to meet like that. She and her husband are thru-hiking the trail together, and they have their car with them. On most days, one will drop the other off at the south end of the trail to hike north. The driver then drives to a point where a road crosses at the north end of the trail, parks the car, and hikes south. They meet at midday on the trail. The northbound hiker will reach the car at the end of the day, and drive back to the south end of the section to retrieve the partner. Having the car offers them many options; they can camp, sleep in the car, or drive to a nearby town. They carry little more than a water bottle and lunch.

I could plan and save for months and then fail. I’d be such a joke. Well… so what? As Teddy Roosevelt triumphantly says, at least I would ‘strive to do the deeds’ and not join ‘those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat’.

My job dissatisfaction was just one factor in my decision to hike the AT. Most thru-hikers, when asked, will offer up a single motivation. In part it is the reason currently dominating his thoughts, in part it is the type of answer that is expected, and in part it is the type of answer that is easiest to give. It is not that simple. The reasons for a thru-hike are less tangible than many other big decisions in life. And the reasons evolve. Toward the end, possibly the most sustaining rationale to finish a thru-hike is the fact that you have started one.

This is what we did: * Week 1:  8 miles a day, with a zero day at the end of this week. * Week 2:  10 miles a day, with a zero day at the end of this week. * Weeks 3 and 4:  12 miles a day, with a zero day at the end of this week. * Week 5 and on:  14 or more miles a day, with a zero day once a week. * (after we got up to 18-20 miles a day, we started taking more neros than zeros.) We stayed at 12 miles a day for two weeks because we listened to our bodies

a frozen pizza cooking in the oven, filling the kitchen with the tantalizing smell of melted cheese and sizzling pepperoni. Six beers cool in the fridge. A map of Glacier National Park is spread on the table, accompanied by sheets of paper filled with scribbled notes and calculations. Sitting around all day is not healthy for any human, but it is certainly not healthy for thru-hikers. After spending the day brainstorming possibilities, sharing ideas, and speaking our desire to finish the hike, Koozie and I decide to get all logistics down on paper. During our most recent conversation, we were both moved to tears expressing how important hiking this trail is and what it means for us. Working for 5 months toward this goal, only to be halted 75 miles from the finish, is an insult to the previous 2,460 miles hiked and every sacrifice made to get to this point. Our determination is not to be doubted, but our finish-vision can easily get us into trouble that would be better to avoid.

Now I see an unexpected benefit of thru-hiking. It is an escape from me. It is a forced simplification of my life; being on the trail limits the opportunities for me to pull myself in multiple directions.

I am always sober. It's my lot in life. I don't know why, I can't explain it. At least not in any way that makes sense to other people. Alcohol makes me feel sick. Or, I don't like to be intoxicated.

Pain and hardship are integral to any thru-hike, as they are to life in general. It is suffering that is a mindset.

A thru-hike is an extended nomadic camping trip. Follow the path through the woods all day. Stop, set up camp, eat, and sleep. Get up, pack your things, and start walking again.

The typical thru-hike takes six months with an average of twelve miles walked per day.

10 A “zero” is a day in which a thru-hiker does not hike. Hikers will use it as a noun or verb: “Yesterday was a zero” or “I’ll zero tomorrow.” I used the term “nero” for a day in which I walked only a few miles.

Thru-hiking is more demanding than I had imagined. In spite of the difficulties, this is where I want to be.

other hikers who were

A while later I stop in a stand of big doug-firs and lean my body against one of them. The bars of yellow sun are scattered just so and I push my face into the deep rutted bark of the tree smelling the spider webs there, the dust, the hardened pitch. Big doug-fir, I think. What do I need to know right now. I love you, says the doug-fir. I love you so much. I can feel the tree there, the tree underneath me the tree all around me, the tree inside of me. The trees holding each other holding the soil holding me. The trees more patient than anything, save the ocean. The trees with the long view. I can feel their pity- Little mammal, they say, with your two legs. Running around saying Where Do I Belong. Making value judgments on the wind, the flowers in the springtime, the shapes of the stars. Little mammal with your trembling heart. I am your home and I love you and I will always be here.

We're just mammals, living our imperfect lives on this three-legged dog of a planet. We fuck up for a little while, and then we die. But it's beautiful. So beautiful. And not because some organized religion tells you so but because you know it, in your heart. And nothing can ever take that away from you.

What a convoluted kaleidoscopic twisted universe we live in. What glory, what heights and depths. I want to hike until I fall apart.

In this moment it is everything, it is the whole universe, spinning away into forever. But still I don't understand it. What is fleeting, and what is mine to keep? Already I feel a great sorrow building inside me, a knowing feeling of loss. How did I get here, and how will I find my bearings once all of this is gone?

I was faced with lying, favoritism, unprofessional supervisors, and unwarranted stress. Worst of all, I began doubting myself and my worth due to my work environment

This place was awesome, but I wasn’t able to fully appreciate the scope of it until after we had our fill of bar food. Beer and greasy food always induces a unique bliss after hiking long distances; especially true because of the work to earn it.

The negative things I used to obsess about are just sort of gone. I seem to have worked through all of them while pounding out miles in the desert, worn them down like worry stones until there was nothing left at all, just sand that slipped through my fingers and away.

...she offered an assortment of reasons about why she was walking. The kids were finally out of the house. She heard that no woman had yet thru-hiked in one direction. She liked nature. She thought it would be a lark. I want to see what’s on the other side of the hill, then what’s beyond that, she told a reported in Ohio. Any one of the answers could stand on its own, but viewed collectively, the diversity of responses left her motivation open to interpretation, as though she wanted people to seek out their own conclusions, if there were any to be made. Maybe each answer was honest. Maybe she was trying to articulate that exploring the world was a good way to explore her own mind.

Black Mountain Road,

The longest journey starts with a single step.

There is a sense I should be saying something profound after such a great event. So much happened, but I lack that final statement. Unlike the trail there is no end statement to life, it just continues.

I value experience more than money, and cherish the love of family and friends above all.

Channels I Watch Often Darwin on the Trail (One of my two favorites) Flat Broke Outside Homemade Wanderlust (The other of my two favorites) Technomadia.com Books Read and Reread The Backpacker’s Field Manual, Rick Curtis Step By Step: An Introduction to Walking the Appalachian Trail, Appalachian Trail Conservancy The Best About Backpacking, A Sierra Club Totebook, Edited by Densise Van Lear The Modern Backpackers Handbook, Glenn Randall Lipsmackin’ Backpackin’, Christine and Tim Conners A Women’s Guide to the Wilderness: Your Complete Outdoor Handbook, Ruby McConnell Wild, Cheryl Strayed Girl in the Woods, Aspen Matis A Walk in the Woods, Bill Bryson Grandma Gatewood’s Walk, Ben Montgomery Journey on the Crest, Cindy Ross A Blistered Kind of Love: One Couple’s Trial by Trail, Angela and Duffy Ballard Appalachian Trials, Zach Davis Almost Somewhere, Suzanne Davis How to create more from what you already have

forward

It was quite literally in the middle of nowhere and came as quite the surprise to us. We came to find out, the older gentleman who owned the cabin had a son that thru-hiked the trail years ago, but had passed away in the last year. Now the man stayed at the cabin for months on end providing trail magic for passing hikers in memory of his son. It was an incredibly touching gesture and as far as locations for trail magic go, this was by far the most unexpected.

I love you, says the doug-fir. I love you so much. I can feel the tree there, the tree underneath me the tree all around me, the tree inside of me. The trees holding each other holding the soil holding me. The trees more patient than anything, save the ocean. The trees with the long view. I can feel their pity- Little mammal, they say, with your two legs. Running around saying Where Do I Belong. Making value judgments on the wind, the flowers in the springtime, the shapes of the stars. Little mammal with your trembling heart. I am your home and I love you and I will always be here.

You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.” – René Daumal

It’s just me up here on the mountaintop, between the earth and sky. It’s just me, the sound of my breath as I push myself up to the ridge; it’s just me, beneath the Milky Way. The stars are singing to me, the air that rises from the valleys; all of this is for me. There is a peace inside of me, a feeling of emptiness. Above me the galaxy is spinning, or I’m spinning, or we’re all spinning. There is no time, I think. There has never been any time. There is only this.

I have always been here and I will always be here. Forever and ever and ever.

PCT THRU-HIKER ADVICE:  “Start the trail with lower mileage and work your way up, week by week, to avoid starting too strong and getting injured. Find time to hike alone for uncomfortable