Bad days on trail

imported
#1

Hi, here is another question. Do any of you ever have any bad days on the trail? I’ve read alot of the journals & comments on this site, & it seems like you guys are impervious to everything. I remember that last spring it rained like everyday in the east, and that didn’t bring any of you down? What about bugs? Isn’t it a little annoying to have to eat dinner while powerwalking so you won’t become dinner for 6 k mosquitoes? And hunger? Or is it like pregnancy, and when you finish you can’t even remember the hard stuff? Just wondering…

jean

#2

:Not such a thing when you are doing a thru-hike. It’s just that some days are better than others. :happy

Grampie

#3

I’d agree that while sitting in Kansas in December, my trail memories are all good. And they’re mostly about the PEOPLE on the trail.

But yeah, sometimes it sucks. I’d rather have a sunny 80 degree day with no bugs than a downpour, or ants in my dinner, or mosquitos in my mouth, or any of those other physically annoying situations. You have to remember that without the “bad” days, we can’t measure the good days. On the trail, you learn to deal with whatever comes your way.

It’s never really THAT bad, and it never lasts very long.

yogi

#4

She’s right. Without the rain, how can you truly appreciate the sunshine? Without loneliness, how can you really be happy to see other hikers? The early struggles up the mountains make you appreciate the days when you just dance across the rocks. Without being really filthy, how can you truly appreciate the miracle of hot water? Hunger makes you appreciate food, in ways you can’t imagine right now.

If the journalist is honest, they will talk about the hard times and the bad times, as well as the good ones. It is never all sunshine and butterflies. Long distance hiking can be really tough, both physically and mentally. But for some of us, it is also happiness, both because of and despite the difficulty. If there is no challenge, why bother?

My sister in law read my journal from a two week hike in the San Juans in Colorado. She wrote back, “Gee, I’m sorry you had such a horrible time.” I was shocked. Yes, we had problems with daily rains, altitude sickness, tendonitis, etc., but I had a wonderful time. It just didn’t show through all the miseries that I was describing. As a nonhiker, she didn’t see that mixed in the problems were the views, the flowers, the wildlife – and they more than made up for the hardships.

Probably once on each hike I have had a day when I asked myself whether finishing my hike was really worth all the pain. On the AT it was one day when I got so tired of being surrounded by people all the time I was going nuts. On the PCT it was in Washington, after several days of bad weather where we couldn’t see more than 20 feet ahead of us, when we passed a weather station and were told “rain for the next 10 days”. If we hadn’t been so close to finishing! On the CDT it was after a really really nasty scramble across a rocky notch with a 1000’ drop below on each side of the ridge, followed by four more 13,000’ rocky peaks (we had already crossed one) that we crossed in snow flurries, and when we finally reached the restaurant at Berthoud Pass, which was supposed to be our reward for all the hard scrambling, and were told that it was closed on weekdays.

In each case, the unhappiness with the hike was gone the next day. And there are always so many small moments of happiness that make up for the hardships. The pica playing in the rocks, the herd of elk outlined against the ridgetop, the moose hiding in the willows, the fellow hiker with a funny story or a helpful word, the trail angel who really appears at the right moment, the views from the peaks, the shower under the waterfall, the eagle soaring overhead . . .

Spirit Walker

#5

I agree with Yogi, sitting here in front of a screen typing makes it easy to forget the hard days. There are bad days, though the mood passes quickly if you let it. I remember when the realization hit me that thinking about walking in the rain was much worse than actually walking in the rain. When I was falling off bog bridges at every turn in Vermont I could laugh it off because of the best part of the Appalachian Trail…as Yogi said PEOPLE! The friends you make along the way are able to turn an ass plant into the muck along the bog bridges into a gut busting laugh fest that exceeds anything comedy central can provide. Yeah, there are bad days on the trail, but there are also times that make you certain that you have a soul…because you can feel it living, brathing and growing everyday and you see it in others just as clearly.

yo-yo

#6

A bad day on the trail beats any good day at work.

See you out there. :cheers

Maintain

#7

one of the worst days you could have on the trail, could very well be one of the best days.

jacelor

#8

Hi Jean,

Here is a little story of a bad day I had on the the trail.

I was on Mt. Rogers in Virginia with a nice light pack. I had just mailed out some heavy stuff, like cold-weather clothing and the weighty book that said, “Do NOT mail out your cold-weather clothing before Mt. Rogers.”

I was trucking along with the temperature just above freezing and a slow rain falling. I ran into an owl and a treebranch and watching him pivot his head around in that owl-like way. The terrain was alternately forested and open, but always misty.

But I was starting to get cold.

Then, lo and behold, I ran into an older woman hiker that I’d met back in Georgia. (She had left the trail, visited her grandkids, and returned a few hundred miles up.) We were both a little lost, so we sorta teamed up. Unfortunately, this also slowed me down…

So I got colder. Bad. Scary.

Eventually, we got back on track and reached a shelter. I was so cold that I couldn’t even heat water for an hour or so. I was pretty miserable, and my judgement certainly wasn’t the best in that state.

Eventually I warmed up, more or less. There were six of there, I think. I wasn’t the only one who had brushed against hypothermia, we decided to hunker down for the night rather than face the cold and wet again.

Later on, there were a few shafts of sunlight, and the “wild” ponies came by to nose around. What lovable creatures!

The night threatened to be pretty cold. We swapped gear around to cover deficiencies and agreed that we’d hogpile if necessary to protect one another. My shelter-mates proved to be hilarious, and the evening was delightful.

I was awfully cold that night. Worse, I had a minimal sleeping pad, because I usually slept on the soft ground instead of the hard shelter floor.

At some point, I had a dream. I was back in Cambridge, MA walking down the hall in my warm, cozy lab, preparing to meet with my research advisor.

And then, in my dream, I realized that that meant that I’d left the trail. I’d given up hiking the trail and gone back home. I startled awake. And found myself shivering and sore on a cold, hard floor in a drafty shelter on a mountainside.

And the amazing thing is… I felt so relieved to wake up from that nightmare!

Eric

#9

Oh yeah…I didn’t sugarcoat it in my journal. Someone just pointed out August 14 of my 02 hike. Horrible day. I won’t repeat it here, or go on to see how the next day became Day 3 of a meltdown period. Heat and humidity that summer about got the best of me. Or the morning at Chatfield Shelter when 40 trail maintainers showed up “unannounced” (I know, joke’s on me, good thing I was dressed or not peeing behind the shelter or something) and I had to hastily put my pack together of wet things from the day’s before downpour-wet shirt, wet socks, wet boots and try to act like I was the cheerful thru-hiker. I wasn’t as gracious as I should have been to these souls. A friend who thru-hiked years ago told me “you’ll have bad days on the trail just like at home, just cause you’re living your dream doesn’t mean every day will be great”. He was right, but it changes in a heartbeat.

Bluebearee

#10

Worst memory was hiking across carter-moriah range in a driving cold windy rain with no other hikers around. Everything was soaked, i was shaking and my glasses were completely fogged. Stood at the road for over half an hour waiting for a hitch to Gorham. But at the same time, eventually got a ride, dried off, met my trailfriends and ended up happy at a nice restraunt. The bad moments are very few and far between. With all the rain I can remember two or three days that weren’t enjoyable. The Trail always gets amazingly good after its bad.

A-Train

#11

When I reread my journals, it does occur to me that most people reading them are not understanding that I was having fun and enjoying myself! Somehow, I do have to learn to work in that aspect. (I also post my journals on a Writers Board for people over 50.)

Harry Dolphin

#12

One of my worst days had to be my first in 02 i think. My dad and sister and I drove down to Dalton the night before; and we went out for a celebratory dinner. I think I ate some bad food or I was just extremely nervous. So I threw up several times during the night before. Next morning its raining; takes forever to get to amicola. Of course I dont want to eat cause ive spent all night drinking pepto. can’t even keep water down. we get there around 11; instead of 9; due to the fog in the mountains. i get unpacked and weigh in my pack; take a few pictures the sun comes out. i decide i should be going; load on the 84 lb pack. dad and sister drive off; i start up the approach trail. WHOA nellie. i start sweating a storm. so i start removing layers; i think i bought a coke somewhere; which was nice. im drinking water; im hiking; im gasping for air. i pass the shelter at the bottom for the mountain in daylight. im going to the top i tell myself. then; im all out of water. what? how did this happen. its dark now. i dont know how far i am from water. i hike for what seems like 10 miles till i find a half frozen spring. i pull out the filter and filter a few liters with my headlamp on. god it was easier to use this thing when it was light out. jesus this water is cold. im getting mud all over me. im hungry too. why didnt i keep any snacks up out of my food bag? IDIOT. ok. got water. drink some. feel less hungry. its getting cold out. wonderful.how tall is this freakin mountain anyway. god ive got to be close to the top. what do u mean its only 1.5 miles from the shelter to the top of the mountain. this has got to be wrong. ive been walking way to far for it to be 1.5 miles. (notice–not eating; early and quick darkness fall; not used to the terrain; not used to the energy output; it can lead to misjudging distances badly. lesson learned early) OK. keep going.
Hey. is that snow? rain? oh crap sleet. and snow. and rain. cant be much farther to the top can it. i think im walking around in circles. im tired. what time is it. oh great. this watch thingee wasnt waterproof. i have no idea. what if i miss the top? can i do that? its really sleeting now. im starting to get cold. cold is bad. can’t pitch a tent here. i dont want to walk too far off the trail looking for a tenting area. there are alot of rocks. maybe i can make a shelter next to one. wait. here is one. its out of the wind; and i can lie under it.

So i did. unpacked pack; slid that in first; wrapped sleeping bag and pad in my ground cloth for my tent; and slept that way. didnt even eat dinner. i was pretty tired; but able to find a warm dry spot.

Next morning; woke up; packed up; looked around and decided i had to be close to the top; i’d eat at springer shelter. started off. and i was. no more than 250 yards from the top of springer. was at the shelter and eating breakfast in under a 1/2 hour. went back to the top later to journal.

So; it was a pretty depressing; miserable day; but the next day; it reinforced in me that i could take care of myself. yeah maybe i did get a bit lucky in that i should have stopped sooner; maybe i should have listened to my inner survival mood that had lay dormant way to long earlier in the day. But I survived (priority one) and learned something from it (a bonus). and now its a cool tale. i even had to show some people this year the rock i slept under last year. maybe this coming spring i’ll sleep under the rock just for kicks.

Big Boy

#13

I think the amazing the thing about a bad day on the trail, was that after it had passed I was surprised at the toughness and resilience I had shown in those (few) periods.

Reflecting back now I realise how character building those times can be. After the hike those tough times are the things “war stories” are made of and strangely enough I remember them with fondness even though I remember how hard they were.

Downunda

#14

I hated the trail. Every day was bad. My knees hurt, I was hot, I was cold,I was hungry. I saw to many smelly people with beards. The none ending miles!! Whats around the bend? Slipping in the mud. Falling on my face. Sharing a shelter with too many people. Cooking in a downpour.

I wish I was going again this March.We will never be the same. Thanks trail!!

Virginan

#15

There’s a good book called A Journey North, by Adrieanne Hall, who did the trail in 96.

In it, she certainly doesn’t sugarcoat her feelings toward the trail, especially in the mosquito hordes. She tends to get bleaker the further she goes.

Kineo Kid

#16

I think that Jean has a good point that most of the journals seem to be relentlessly upbeat. Personally, I prefer the ones that don’t sugar coat - like Bluebearee’s - because they are more fun to read and give the rounded picture. It’s important to learn what life was like in the moment, when things were really bad, rather than the edited highlights remembered weeks later through rose tinted specs.

You see this a lot when people mysteroiusly, suddenly, leave the trail when, from the accounts, things seemed to be going so well. However, there are some great exceptions to this, people like Buttercup gave very moving accounts of the circumstances that led them to leave the trail. I notice it’s usually women who are this candid. Are the guys too butch?

I hope to give a warts and all picture when I hike next year. It shouldn’t be too hard. I’m British, so naturally an introspective, depressive, negative kind of a character, whilst you are Americans tend to be extrovert, self-confident and positive. We’ll see!

:slight_smile: :slight_smile:

Rick

#17

Big Boy, loved your story. 84 # pack. I am impressed. Must be big to carry weight like that.

I’ve learned the signs along the AT tend to lie a bit (a lot maybe). The signs says it’s 1.5 miles, but I’ve walked hours to get there----think it’s all the switchbacks that are not figured in to the miles. I think maybe 1.5 miles as the crow flies, but not walking those switchbacks.

People have always been stationary more or less, lived in nice warm houses, caves or tents (like the indians). So when we hear of some trekking hundreds, even thousands of miles, we are impressed. Many people have never slept outdoors or cooked over a campfire----they live out their lives by the warm stove and in their nice warm beds. Me, I’d rather walk the tops of the mountains.

See you out there. :cheers

Maintain

#18

i had a bad day in pennsylvania. it was hot, 80 something degrees, even though it was 5:30am. throughout the day, sucky things kept happening. attacked by mosquitoes as soon as i exited my shelter. tripped on a rock (nah, not too many of those in PA!) lost the bite valve from my water bladder temporarily. ran into a rattlesnake. left my bandanna at my lunch spot and had to turn around and get it. banged and bloodied up my shin on a blowdown when i was startled by some planes’ superloud shooting. got to the shelter and was immediately attacked by mosquitoes again. well, what was there to do but make it into a cartoon to put in the register so that other folks could relate! i think a few people laughed and that’s what pulls you through the bad days, finding the funny in the bad.

zero

#19

Having not completed a hike of epic proportions (such as the A.T), but having clocked up 2000ish miles of long distance hikes, I can safely say there are bad days. But like the other’s said, they are often the most memorable ones. Me and my hiking buddy have a day we refer to as “that day”. It was awful, everything went wrong, he became hypothermic but we had to continue for 15 miles. It happened on the JMT last year when the tail end of a hurricane swept across the Sierra. We both had problems with the altitude (bloody noses etc) and it rained, rained, rained. It was freezing cold and we both thought we’d had it as the section we were hiking was so remote. As luck would have it we followed a passing pack train for 10 miles with only a few stops (when the cowboy had to pee). Followed them to where ever they were going (which was a ranch) then hiked to the nearest road and were lucky to be picked up by a bus driver who saw the state we were in and took us to a nearby Ski Resort (for free). Spent the night in a $100 motel room running around laughing and eating pizza. My buddy kept on throwing things in the bin (garbage can?), taking them out then throwing them in again, just because we hadn’t used one for weeks. That truely was a bad day. We always have a great laugh about it now as it’s one of the most memorable days of our hiking “careers”.

Ross

Ross - England

#20

Of course there are bad days on the trail. That’s one of the major reasons that 5 out of 6 people don’t finish their thruhike. The remaining 15% belong to a semi-exclusive club, often by virtue of trying to see the glass as half-full, rather than half-empty when it has been raining for 2 weeks straight.
When the class of 2003 gave their talk to the dreamers at this years ALDHA Gathering, their was a consensus that the biggest reason people didn’t finish was due to unreal expectations. If you can realize that several days of feeling rotten can be part of a greater experience, you will be able to find all happy memories on the trail.

“30-30”
GAME 94 GAME 04

“30-30”