The Completion of a Historic Hike

If you’re wondering how an overweight, 30-something accountant who had never hiked before somehow managed to become the first person to hike the Appalachian and Ozark trails back-to-back, then don’t worry because I’m wondering the same thing.

I never climbed a mountain before, never went on hikes, and never ate a half gallon of ice cream in one sitting…

Yet over the course of the past 8 months I did all this and more.

The more I think about how all this transpired, the more I come back to a single answer: YOU, my loyal supporters and friends, enabled me to do this with your encouragement, positivity, and enthusiasm. You picked up my spirits with your emails and comments and gave me the strength to endure. When I struggled to climb a mountain, you lifted me toward the summit. When I fell down, you helped me get back up. When I was in pain, you gave me the courage to push on. You never stopped believing in the impossible and as a result, neither did I.

So, to everyone who stood behind me these past 8 months, thank YOU for making Hike4Kids a success!!

A Look Back on the Ozark Trail

I can’t get over how different the Ozark Trail is from the Appalachian Trail. The OT is a gentle path that winds its way through beautiful forests, while the AT is a rugged endurance test that traverses mountain after mountain. Hiking the OT is easier on your body and makes for a more peaceful hiking experience, but the grueling climbs of the AT provide an enormous adrenaline rush and emotional payoff upon reaching a summit.

I can’t even think about my AT experience without recalling the countless characters both good and bad that I encountered along the trail. On the OT, I encountered but one hiker and two hillbillies with a pickaxe the entire time. The AT thus provided a greater sense of community, while the OT yielded more solitude and was a respite from social interaction.

But one area where the OT truly stood out from the AT was in the number of unusual places found along the trail. Take Blair Creek Cemetery, for example: it is in the middle of nowhere and apparently the remnant of a long-gone community, but I surprisingly discovered upon closer examination that some people are apparently still being buried there. Given that the only “road” nearby resembled an ATV path, I’m assuming the funeral procession consisted of a large mass of hilllbillies on ATV’s dragging a coffin on a sled. It must have been a touching service.

Then there was the 1950′s model car that I spotted miles from any road in a densely forested area. How they got that car back there is beyond me, but why they decided to drive it back there in the first place is even more worrisome. I don’t know exactly what went down, but I imagine that anyone who decided to drive a car miles into a remote section of the woods was up to no good. In any case, I found the car to be an interesting diversion. Curiously, I noted that the car had been stripped quite a bit, and I lifted the hood to find the engine missing. I wondered how in the heck they hauled the engine (as well as most of the car’s interior) out of the woods, but then I remembered the hillbilly/ATV/sled combination I mentioned earlier and figured this must have been a sight to behold.

And then there’s Bockman Spring, where I stopped to water up and was startled to find the water source to be originating from a pipe hanging out of a cave. As foolish as it sounds, I couldn’t resist the temptation to climb up and have a look inside the cave, in spite of the recent mountain lion article posted by the Ozark Trail Association. Once I got inside the cave I recognized this was a bad idea, as there was only one way out and if there was an animal inside I would have to make a short jump. The combination of 2,500 miles of hiking and a 50-pound pack means that a short jump is not something I’m even remotely prepared to do without injuring and/or making a fool of myself. I unfortunately didn’t have the guts to enter the deeper recesses of the cave (if there were any). People have said that I look very “fit” after returning from the AT, but to be honest I don’t know if there is any level of fitness where I would feel comfortable tangling it up with a mountain lion or whatever the heck lives in the dark part of a remote cave.

These unusual places made the trail that much more interesting. Sure, it was an amazing experience sitting atop a bluff above the Eleven Point River, watching birds soar through the air and admiring how the sunlight glistened upon the river. But it was just as fun scratching my head trying to figure out how and why a bunch of hillbillies managed to get a 2-ton vehicle into a remote section of wilderness.

So here’s to the Ozark Trail, a true adventure!

The Final Hike

69 miles to go. There are no streams or creeks for the first 30 miles, so I’m probably going to run out of water at some point. It’s funny to think there was a time when things like that scared me. But that was in the distant past, well over 2,000 miles ago. At this point, a nuclear bomb could fall on the trail and I would just keep hiking. An asteroid could hit the earth and I would just keep hiking. The Cubs could win the World Series and I would just keep hiking. It’s all I know how to do anymore.

The final stretch of trail is reportedly quite brushy, so I might have to fight my way through the undergrowth again like I did along Blair Creek. I just hope I don’t run into anyone named Cletus, and if I hear any banjo music I’m out of there. I really like rural Missouri and 99% of the people are friendly and perfectly normal, but the other 1%… well, let’s just say that something bad happens when you mix crystal meth with an 8th grade education and I don’t want to encounter the result. I think I already did when I saw those two guys making their way through the brush in tank-tops with a pickaxe in hand. I’m still not entirely sure what they were up to since they offered conflicting stories, but I can’t imagine it was anything good. I was thankful to escape from that encounter unscathed, especially after they spent several minutes diligently attempting to persuade me to spend the night in a nearby cave. But I digress.

Hopefully this final stretch of hiking will be devoid of sprained ankles, bushwacking, and hillbilly encounters, but then again those are the things that made my experience interesting and gave me lots of stories to tell…

So, here’s hoping that the final 69 miles of trail is just as exciting as the rest of the trail, and that I blow out my ankle while fighting through brush up to my head but only after being chased by some country boys wielding machetes and pickaxes. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Down But Not Out

I thought the end would be relatively easy. I thought I would come home to Missouri and stroll right through the Ozark Trail. I thought the gentle hills of the Ozarks would provide a welcome respite from the arduous climbing of the Appalachian Trail.

I thought wrong.

On Monday I sprained my ankle. On Tuesday I fought, punched, and kicked my way through brush so thick I had to put on pants to stop my legs from bleeding. On Wednesday I was pummelled by 3 waves of intense thunderstorms and was soaked to the bone. Today I got lost several times and twisted my sprained ankle so badly I questioned whether I could even make it to the trailhead under my own power.

But I made it.

After seven months of hiking, I’m still out here, and I’m not giving up.

As I slowly made my way through the brush, hearing the ominous peel and crack of thunder above me, feeling a shot of pain surge through my body with each step, shivering in my wet clothes… I wanted to scream for it all to stop. I wanted to yell for someone to come get me, to take me home, to take me anywhere but here. But I didn’t yell out. I hiked on.

And now there are just 70 miles left of the Ozark through trail.

If I have to limp my way to the finish line on a busted ankle, then so be it. If I have to fight my way through brush, then bring it on. And if I have to hike in the soaking rain while lightning threatens to tear me from this earth, then mother nature by all means do your worst.

Because I’m going to finish this trail.

Just Me and the Mountain Lions Now…

I’ve hiked over 100 miles of the Ozark Trail now and have only encountered one other person using the trail. I was starting to think I was all alone out there, but the Missouri Department of Conservation recently photographed a mountain lion out by the trail so now I can rest assured that I will have plenty of company for the rest of my hike.

I’m not afraid of bears, snakes, wild boars… but mountain lions are a different story. They are notorious for stalking their victims and being very territorial. After 2,300 miles in the woods I consider myself a fairly tough individual, but even so the thought of hiking alone and suddenly being pounced on by a massive cat really does not appeal to me. While a mountain lion is not quite as large as an African lion, as a general rule I try not to incur the wrath of any animal that has the word “lion” somewhere in it’s name.

I did some research on the web and found that the consensus approach for dealing with a mountain lion is to stand your ground, make direct eye contact, and raise your arms to appear larger. Standing your ground makes sense, as I certainly wouldn’t want to give the lion the impression that I like a good chase. However, making direct eye contact with a lion almost seems like you’re challenging it to make a move. If there is some maniac causing a ruckus in a public place, do you want to avoid eye contact or go engage in a staredown with the guy? I don’t want to give the lion the impression that I’m looking for a fight, so I might be better going with the lost tourist option and whipping out my map to ask for directions.

Raising my arms to convince the lion I am much larger seems like the kind of thing that might fool a 3-year old child but not a sophisticated predator. If the lion could be tricked that easily, then I’ve got some shares of Enron I’d like to sell to it.

So, as I head back to the trail today, rest assured that if I do encounter a mountain lion I will not foolishly flail my arms and intimidate the lion by staring it down, but will rather attempt to slowly tiptoe backwards while gently tossing bagels with Nutella in the direction of the lion. Because everybody likes Nutella

What happened in the 100 Mile Wilderness?

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Many people have asked me what the 100 Mile Wilderness in Maine was like. I hung out with Penobscot Indians, laughed so much my abs became sore, and did yoga on a beach as the sun came up. I also ran out of food and resorted to some pretty outrageous means to get fed. It was quite the adventure!

The 100 Mile Wilderness is a boggy mess at times, but I had the good fortune to slog through it with 3 really cool people: Tex, Amish, and Hippity Hop. Tex is a short, friendly Texan who also goes by the moniker “Screamin’ Yeti” and sometimes dresses like a ninja. He’s also a really nice guy with a big heart who kept me alive by generously supplying me with Mio so I didn’t go nuts from drinking nothing but pond water for a week. Amish is one of the friendliest people I met on the trail, an easygoing guy who kindly starts a campfire for everyone each night and hikes with a wooden staff which constantly made me think of Moses parting the Red Sea. Hippity Hop is a trail beauty, that is to say a female hiker. This means there was an army of guys breaking their necks to keep pace with her, as well as at least one guy who mistakenly thought he had a “moment” with her when they were going through Mahoosuc Notch… lol I think it’s admirable when women hike the trail, and Hippity Hop was so friendly that she became like the sister in our group.

This entertaining crew made one of the roughest, wildest sections of the AT quite a bit of fun. They moved pretty fast, and at one point I thought they were going to have to get the defibrillator out to bring old Standing Bear back to life. But they always waited for me to catch up and even take the lead at times so they could listen to my stories, of which I had a neverending supply We had so many misadventures together I don’t even know where to begin.

At one point Amish, Tex, and I ran out of food and I started flagging cars down in search of something to eat. It was just a lonely gravel road (Jo-Mary Road.), so there wasn’t too much traffic, but I was able to flag down one of the first cars we saw. It turned out to be a couple and their two kids returning from a camping trip. I told them we had hiked from Georgia and were out of supplies, and asked if I could buy any leftover food. The guy told us we could have the leftovers for free and hopped out to pop open the trunk. Unfortunately, all his food was either canned or required cooking (we didn’t carry stoves). Amish quickly eyeballed a can of kidney beans. He lacked a can opener but was confident he could get the can open if he became hungry enough. Nonetheless, we were a little disappointed that we couldn’t eat most of the food in the box. Then Hippity Hop spotted one of the kids’ paintings in the back seat of the car and said “what a beautiful painting!” Next thing you know the kids start passing back to us granola bars, chocolate, all kinds of good stuff… turns out the kids had been holding out on us! lol Hippity Hop buttered them up with her compliment and all of a sudden we’ve hit the motherlode in terms of snacks.

We sat by the side of the road and added the snacks to our pile of remaining food. Then a truck came by and I flagged it down. Hippity Hop started chatting with the guy, but she was beating around the bush and the guy was about to drive off when I said “Do you have any Gatorade or anything we could buy?” Next thing you know, he’s got the back of the truck open and I’m hauling out food by the armful. As it happens this guy does shuttles and resupply runs for hikers so we hit jackpot. I’m deep in the back of the truck digging out plastic bins of food, getting more and more excited with each bin I see. We struck gold when I saw the iconic words “Chef Boyardee.” I excitedly announced that we were having Italian for lunch and tossed cans to Tex and Amish. They even had the little pop-top tabs so we didn’t need a can opener or rock to open them. Tex spent several minutes hemming and hawing over a bag of Chex Mix, but meanwhile Amish and I were taking armfuls of Oreos, cookies, and anything that looked good and adding it to our food pile, which was now becoming quite substantial. Half an hour previous we were just about out of food, and now we’re eating a bag of chips with ravioli and drinking Tang, with oreos and chips ahoy for dessert. I gave some money to the guy and thanked him for his kindness, but then we were surprised to hear a car horn. What the heck? I look over and it turns out we had created a traffic jam, as two cars were waiting behind this guy’s truck. I couldn’t believe it, it must have been the first traffic jam ever on this road. As we feasted by the side of the road, a certain car drove by a third time and Amish noted that each time the car passed our food pile had grown larger

And that wasn’t even our wildest experience. At one point, we were night-hiking, secretly cursing Tex for encouraging us to push on a few extra miles, when we smelled a campfire. We started looking around, but didn’t see anything. Next thing we know we’ve encountered a gravel road which isn’t marked on our map. Where the heck are we? Then we see picnic tables, a campfire, and a large pond with a beach. We wander over to the campfire and it turns out to be a bunch of students from College of the Atlantic out on a college orientation trip. They gave us a warm welcome and invited us to hang out with them at the fire. All the students were female, a fact which was not lost on Tex and Amish who are both single and had been on the trail a long time. Tex told me, “I’m not going to tent next to your hammock tonight, for obvious reasons.” When I asked why, Tex said, “In case I score man!”

We sat down by the fire, and the students graciously offered us some lentils. I took the lentils and became excited when I felt the warm bag in my hands. I dug out a big spoonful and quickly resigned to never eat lentils again. Wow, if a hiker turns down a second helping you know it’s bad… lol But I really appreciated the kind gesture. We had a lot of laughs, and Tex was practically holding court by the fire, telling entertaining stories from the trail and making everyone laugh. Amish meanwhile was engaged in a deep conversation with a young coed which was going so well I feared he might just get off the trail and start a new life with her. Then the leader of the group invited us to do yoga on the beach at sunrise. Yoga didn’t seem like my style, so I was inclined to say no, but Hippity Hop said she would pay money to watch Standing Bear do yoga, which I viewed as sort of a challenge. Next morning bright and early I’m on that beach doing all kinds of odd poses, many of which include the name “dog” in their title. I’m sure it didn’t look pretty at times but the instructor said I did well for my first session, especially considering I’d hiked over 2,000 miles.

The end of the 100 Mile Wilderness is marked by a paved road that has a campstore, and I fantasized about that campstore for days. Visions of pizza and ice cream danced through my head. When we finally hit the road I wanted to break into a dead sprint for the campstore but knew I wouldn’t make it more than 10 feet before collapsing. We were essentially thrown out of the restaurant portion of the store for looking too dirty but not before I could purchase a ton of pizza, ice cream, Pepsi, and other goodies. We commandeered a picnic table outside and I downed almost 2 liters of Pepsi like it was nothing. As we were packing up to leave, Tex saw me filling my water bottles with a second 2 liter of Pepsi and was shocked. He warned that it would dehydrate me, but I told him that with all this sugar I’m going to come out of this place like a bat out of hell. As we were leaving, however, we all felt a little tipsy and after just a few miles of hiking we laid down for a break and literally passed out next to the trail. We were awoken later by a day hiker who passed by and said “Are you all asleep?” in a loud voice. We are now, buddy… lol

We finally made it to the last shelter, where we encountered some Penobscot Indians. We had met them earlier at the campstore and had a really good conversation, but we didn’t know they’d be staying at the same place as us. They kindly invited us to dinner, where we feasted on moose meatloaf, potatoes, and other amazing food. I also had a really good conversation with the person who seemed like the leader, a guy named Butch. It seemed odd to meet a Native American named “Butch” but I can’t think of a nicer guy. He told me a great deal about the history of the Penobscot in that area and about Katahdin. It was a great evening and a fantastic end to the 100 Mile Wilderness.

And then the next day I summitted Katahdin

Back on the Trail!

When I set out to hike the Ozark Trail, I was concerned about getting lost, running out of water, and being isolated. It turns out all those concerns were justified, but isolation is the worst.

Man, was I lonely out there. I hiked 50.4 miles and only came across one other hiker, and he wasn’t even doing the Ozark Trail! By day two I was so desperate for human interaction that I actually thought about flagging down a vehicle when I finally crossed a paved road, but I quickly abandoned the idea because I couldn’t think of a better opening line than “What’s up?”

I did 21 miles on day two simply because there was an area on my map marked as a campground and I thought it’d be a good chance to encounter some people. Turns out the “campground” simply consists of some picnic tables and fire pits, but more importantly there were two trailers there.

I excitedly marched over to hang my hammock at the campsite adjacent to the trailer, only to be met by a cold, icy stare from one of its inhabitants. I’ve camped at a lot of places, and not once did I receive this kind of reception from a fellow camper. The guy and his wife really seemed bothered by my presence. The more I looked at their campsite, however, the more I realized they weren’t camping… they’re living there. The trailer looked liked it hadn’t moved in quite some time, and nothing gave any indication that the people were here on a temporary basis.

Now I’m starting to get worried, as there are no paved roads leading to this place and it’s pretty remote. Who the heck would choose to live out here? These people, apparently. And I’m encroaching on their territory. I briefly considered putting my hammock away and moving on but it’s getting dark and I’m too tired to night-hike. I get in the hammock, excited about the prospect of a good night’s sleep listening to the whirr of their generator. Uh-oh, they just decided to watch a movie, and to my chagrin at least one of them must be hard of hearing because the volume is akin to that of a Metallica concert. Following the movie, they decide to have a little pow-wow and share a few laughs. I can’t make out what they’re saying, not because I can’t hear it but because it literally is like a different dialect. I know this is rural Missouri, but come on I’m only a couple hours from St. Louis! I thought I heard the word “hogtie” at one point and prayed they weren’t talking about me…

First thing in the morning I bound out of my hammock and… I can’t walk. I could move somewhat, but I think even the word “limp” would be too generous a term. It’s amazing what just six days of no hiking did to my body- I felt worse than I did at the beginning of the Appalachian Trail! I was moving around so weird that if a mother and her children saw me, the mother would undoubtedly scold the children and say “Don’t stare!”

I hobbled over to a patch of trees to answer the call of nature and found a nice concrete block with a hole in the middle. I thought, “That looks a lot like a toilet” and eagerly sat down, happy to squat in something other than weeds for a change. Afterwards, I buried my waste by liberally covering it with leaves, but ultimately thought if someone is silly enough to stick their hand or foot inside this concrete block then perhaps they will learn a valuable lesson about curiosity.

My calves were so tight, I had to walk on the tips of my toes for the first mile or two. That’s right, I decided to keep hiking, as the prospect of asking Cletus and his pals for a lift into town wasn’t very enticing. After a while, my legs returned to the normal level of pain, although every time I took a break my calves would stiffen up again and I’d have to repeat the entire process.

On my way out of the campground, I happened to notice a sign and went over to check it out. It indicated that this area was used for lead smelting and should be considered a biohazard. I hope whoever decided to put a public campground next to a lead contamination site was promptly fired.

Man, am I glad I brought a bug net on the Ozark Trail. From the get-go I was assaulted by swarms of no-see-ums. These are the little bugs that try to fly into your eyes, your ears, everything. No-see-ums have the Ozark Trail on lockdown. There should be a sign at the trailhead that says “Hike this trail without a bug net at your own peril.”

It felt incredibly hot and humid while I was out there, so much so that I became filled with glee upon fording a creek. The cold water felt amazing, to the extent that I considered the possibility of laying completely down in the water, clothes and all. I thought wow, I could just live here forever, right here in this nice cool water- but then I remembered that I have a wife, friends, and a whole lot more, and the notion of laying in a creek would probably get old after a while.

But the best part, the absolute best part about the Ozark Trail is that it’s only 90 minutes from my house! So after 50 miles of hiking, I didn’t have to hitchhike to a motel, because I had a wonderful wife en route to pick me up, take me home, and laugh at me as I attempt to limp upstairs to the shower.

It’s good to be home! Part 2 of the Ozark Trail adventure begins in 48 hours, or whenever I’m able to walk normally again, whichever comes first