Mentality

Two months from today and I'll be hitting the Approach Trail in Amicalola. Well, shit, that puts it into perspective. The anxiety and excitement is immeasurable, and I'm finding it very difficult to find ways to get myself through these next eight and a half weeks. I've been trying to keep myself busy with things completely unrelated to the AT. But that doesn't work. Oh my, that doesn't work.

I've gone on day hikes, but that sure doesn't curb the hunger to stand on Springer and start the journey. I found myself looking at the blazes (blue, fyi), wishing that they were white and the occasional signs had mileages listed in a four-figure manner. I'm comfortable with my gear. Or at least comfortable enough where I can at least make it to Neel's Gap and reconfigure things if need be. And focusing on gear and possible changes makes me anxious (in the negative way) and upset about my budget. But oh, how trying a different style alcohol stove appeals to me right now...

BAH!

Truth be told, I'm not worried about doing much more preparation for the hike with respect to gear selection (I did my research, and have already put significant work on putting a critical eye on my gear) or physical state. I'm not in thru-hiker form at this moment, but I figure I have five months of walking to get that. I'm in good enough shape where I can easily do the Approach Trail on the first day, set up camp, enjoy the company of future-friends, and not be exhausted. Even though I'm physically able to do 20+ miles on a day hike with a loaded pack, the Appalachian Trail is not a day hike. Starting off with days like that will just push me closer to breaking down. I intend to make it further than Neel's Gap, so this clearly isn't what I will be doing. Therefore, I actually look at spending too much time physically preparing as doing more harm than good. What I do feel I should be spending my pre-trail time on, however, is my mentality.

I've always spent a great deal of time and energy inside my own head. As sociable as I can be, I'm very much fundamentally introverted. In my life, my mind has been a sharp dagger, my greatest weapon. It's a two-edged dagger, however; my own thoughts also have the capacity to be my greatest threat. That's why I'll be spending the next sixty (I just counted it... wow, only 60 days?) days making sure that the darker side of the dagger stays sheathed.

Meditation has always played a prevalent role in my life. Usually this is accomplished through yoga. Controlled breathing and conscious proprioception. I will be continuing this leading up to my departure, and while on the trail, if I cannot do a morning yoga routine, I will attempt to simulate the breathing and body awareness while actually hiking.

My tendency to be able to roll with the punches is going to be important, too. However, I'm thinking that just being easy going won't really help with morale and motivation while hiking for the 5th rainy day in a row. Being real, I'm taking an active approach in addressing and acknowledging that at some point, I'll hit a wall where something like that is going to get to me. Along with that, I'm telling myself that it's nothing unique to me, my ability, effort, or general experience are not to blame in this. Whether you call it the Green Tunnel Vision or Virginia Blues or hiker depression, to me, it's just another opportunity for growth. I'll be ready for it, whenever it does rear its head, instead of being caught off guard and risk taking myself off the trail because I think that the trail is no longer fun.

I won't just groan, throw my pack on my back, and trudge through the downpour, waiting for it to clear. I'll let it be an opportunity to let my personality show - stomping through puddles, singing like I were in the shower (most likely with some faux shower gestures), collect water that I won't have to add drops of Aqua Mira to. All the while telling myself that this is just a small sampling of what will be the greater experience of the thru-hike (Dear scientific me: p < 0.05).

Hell, walking through Virginia in a monsoon is still infinitely more appealing to me than my current predicament. I mean, c'mon, it's hiking. It's pure awesome. Also, I like rain. It makes me feel alive on a primitive level.


I like to think that I've got a metaphorical leg up on a hypothetical counterpart (and their literal leg) that may be in much better physical condition than me at this specific time because of my mental approach to what a thru-hike entails.

Now, how early is too early to start preparing for my mentality after I return from the trail...? Hmmm...

Night-Walking

I've always been a fan of the nighttime. The stillness of people allowing nature to fully awaken, the air getting just a little more crisp to remind you that you're there, a throwback to the insomnuous days of yesteryear... it's always been a time when I've very much felt me. So it should come as no surprise that the prospect of hiking at night on my upcoming thru-hike is a fascinating and exciting idea, one that I'm hungry to experience.

There's also concern. The darkness gives more opportunities and challenges to a plate that is already two-helpings deep. Less light means an increased likelihood of making the wrong step and getting hurt or losing sight of the white blazes and ended up off-trail. Increased animal activity, while thrilling in a very primitive fashion, poses risk of everything from getting startled by walking through a spider web to bear encounters.

Lighting makes this venture easier and safer. It provides surer footing, better visibility of trail markers, and two-way warning between hiker and wildlife. Whether I spot an animal from a distance or it spots the light and is alerted to my approach before I'm right on top of it is no different - as long as I don't surprise any animals, my safety is much-increased.

Headlamps are wonderful pieces of gear. They allow you to cast light along with your gaze without requiring a hand to do so. They would seem like the ideal item to use while night-hiking. There is one factor, however, that gives room for improvement: the height. Lowering a light source closer to the ground gives better definition to what is on the trail. Shadows cast from bushes and the like won't be as drastic, and there will likely be less bob than with the head. In addition, if the lamp is below your eyes, you don't need to worry about light flooding down into them. Waist-level would be ideal, but sadly, straps for headlamps aren't the size of belts.

This is where I came up with the idea to mount a headlamp to the hip belt of my backpack. My first plan involved getting a matching set of male/female buckles as to what already exists on my pack, fixing them together permanently at the side where you run webbing through. This would create an "extender" of sorts, where I would be able to unbuckle my pack, and just click this new piece in; the male side of my pack joining to the female side of the extender, and the female side of my pack joining the male side of the extender. On the front of this extender, I would also affix a headlamp from my collection. That way, when I didn't need the headlamp, I could just click this "light buckle" out, and just as easily click it in when I did need it. I was unable to track down anywhere to buy the exact buckles from, though. Well, at least not without buying a bulk order of about 200. Not quite my idea of a practical solution.

Then I got an idea that seemed even simpler. Lighter. Sturdier. Cheaper. To use zip-ties as anchor loops, and just hook the backing of the headlamp through these loops for a final product that is easy to perform and I hope reliable. I placed two zip-ties at the top side of the buckle, one on the female side, one on the male side. These went through the wider opening that allowed webbing to run through. There's enough space between the webbing and the other side of the slit where the zip-ties don't pose any interference. Which is just what I wanted.

Location of the zip-ties. And yes, the stars on my blanket glow in the dark. I know you're jealous.

From here, it's as simple as using the opening on the back of the headlamp that allows you to remove/reattach the strap to slide the zip-ties onto the backing. I find that I can then rotate the zip-ties backwards, so the locking end up wedged between the webbing and the buckle. It gives it a nice sturdy hold.

You can see the rotation of the zip-tie here, turn it so the knob is pushing through from the back.

It seems to hold pretty well on initial testing, which included holding the buckle upside down and shaking vigorously, wearing the pack with headlamp attached and dancing to some groovy tunes, and standing still while staring at it.

I hope that this is steeper than it'll have to hold up in the field...

I think I found my answer. And I'm very satisfied with the results, even though I would have liked to see what the original buckle idea would have ended up looking like.

For this, I used a Princeton Tec Quad headlamp. I was able to pick up a few on Steep & Cheap for about $7 a pop a year and a half or so ago. I chose this model for this project because the 4 LED gives broad light coverage and is also waterproof. If I'm hiking in heavy rains during the day, and the clouds are so thick that sunlight is limited, I can use this without fear of it getting destroyed. It does seem to kill batteries pretty quick, though, even on the low setting (which by default, isn't the first press of the button, which isn't ideal, but I can click two additional times). Then again, I don't think I'll be night-hiking very frequently, so long-term battery life isn't really my top concern.

The light spray is quite broad from this headlamp, just what I wanted.

And best of all, if I decide that this really isn't what I had in mind, all I need to do is cut off the two zip-ties and be done with it. My favorite modification projects are those that can be reversed and have items go back to as close to stock as possible. I'm still in that safe learning phase, after all.