Friday, August 21, 2015

Food, Part Two

When we got off the trail for a few days in June for a wedding, the most common question I got was about food. “How are you eating enough? What are you eating?” Well, the answer depends on when in the hike you asked us.

Month 1:
Breakfast was oatmeal (remember that huge pile from my first food post? THAT.), then we would hike about 5-6 miles. At this point, our stomachs would be growling for sustenance, so we would stop for a snack break. Typically this meant trail mix, dried fruit, and/or granola bars. Then we would hike another 5 or so miles and stop for lunch – peanut butter on pita plus more snacks. Afternoon snacks were a repeat of morning, but we could usually get a few more miles in and to our usual 20 mile mark. Dinners were any of the 14 varieties of pasta/rice/potato I prepared ahead of time. Hunger came and went with a regularity that felt expected. Satiation wasn’t difficult.

Month 2:
Breakfast was still oatmeal and still surprisingly tasty. I had made about 5 varieties so we wouldn’t have to eat the exact same kind every morning. The rarer dehydrated eggs & potatoes weren’t as appealing as they had been, despite their better “staying power.” I chalk it up to the addition of cheddar cheese powder, which has an off-putting orange hue that seemed extra neon first thing in the morning. Instant coffee made an almost daily appearance into our morning routine. We were hiking harder miles now in the Sierras and our breaks were similar, but the consumption larger. Sometimes we would only take two breaks a day since our mileage was diminished, but we would sit for a solid hour and eat almost the entire time. Tortillas replaced pitas for better portability and instant hummus was a welcome break in the peanut butter routine. Water wasn’t as much of an issue as it was in the desert, so we regularly took an afternoon break for tea & chocolate. In retrospect, this wasn’t sufficient intake even though it was enjoyable. Snickers made its first steady appearance.

The biggest food lesson was during the second month, seeing that although we were eating to fullness during our breaks, this wasn’t providing sufficient calories to sustain us. Big hiking requires constant consumption, not just big consumption.  9 times out of 10, bad attitudes were due to low blood sugar, even if our stomachs weren’t giving us the expected cues. Also, you cannot regain enough calories in town to make up for what you lost during your backcountry forays between resupply stops.

Month 3:
“Hiker Hunger” hit. Within an hour of breakfast (still oatmeal!) we were hungry. However, we had also learned that our dismal attitudes from Yosemite were primarily hunger-driven, so now we took to stashing bars in our pack hip belts. Requirements of this snack were only that it needed to be compact, handheld, and easy to eat while walking. That snack (or two for Jan) carried us to about mile 8-10 of the day, when we would stop for lunch – tortillas with peanut butter, hummus with crackers, and a variety of high calorie snacks (read: junk food). We would restock our hip belts for the afternoon and hike another 8-10 miles, take a break that looked just like the first, and finish out the day. Our town stops became opportunities to stock up on the high calorie/low weight junk food as much as refueling with burgers, fries, milkshakes, and beer.  Towards the end of our trip, I dusted off an entire bag of Pirate’s Booty and an entire bag of Doritos in one sitting and felt just fine (perhaps even a sense of accomplishment!).

Snacks for only 4 days (not pictured: bread, 2 avocados, a roll of Ritz and some Oreos). Yes, we ate all of this.

If I could offer one main takeaway of feeding yourself on a long-distance trek, it would be that variety really is the spice of life. The range of oatmeal additions (and occasional instant eggs & potatoes) and mix of dinners saved us from getting burnt out too quickly on any one food. There were certainly hits in the mix (Beefy Noodle Bowl) and duds (Indian Dal with rice & veggies), but we never had to eat anything more than once a week. That saved us from some serious food misery. Being excited to eat makes breaks all the more enjoyable on the trail, and conversely, being put off by your options makes the break seem like a chore. I might not reach for a bag of trail mix anytime soon, and Jan won’t even look at a Clif bar, but we both still love peanut butter.


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Trail Names


Everyone gets a trail name. Who knows what the origin of this tradition is, but it certainly helps distinguish hikers when they have ridiculous or funny names. Hell, we met five Andrews in the first week alone! In a month or two, they would all be emaciated white dudes with solid beard growth, complicating any ability to identify them.

There are two main ways one gets a trail name: choose it yourself or risk being given one. You can certainly reject a bad or ill-fitting trail name (to a certain degree), but you better have a quick replacement or the first one will stick.  Jan and I were both unenthusiastic about this aspect of the trail, but within the first week it became increasingly apparent that we needed trail names. We needed them for people to remember us, because amidst names like Lone Star and Lightswitch, Jan and Alyssa really don’t ring any bells.

Ten days in, as we descended from Mt. San Jacinto and met some new hikers (all with trail names, natch), we discussed our name options. Jan had been offered some less-than-satisfying appellations and I couldn’t come up with anything fiercer or cleverer than Poppy or Mouse. As we refilled our water in a fresh snowmelt stream, I casually suggested “Quixote” to Jan. It has been his nom de plume for a couple years and his name in all Shell Corporation media. I expected the usual swift and sound rejection. In fact, I fully expected that Jan would reject all trail names for the entire trip. What I got was a contemplative “huh” and a face flushed with subtle satisfaction. Nailed it. Quixote it was.

I brooded for the next hour, still nameless while Jan had a fitting and cool-sounding name. I huffed and puffed my way down the mountain, still wearing my thermals under my hiking clothes to ward off the snowy chill, dealing with a bit of an identity crisis. Was I a White Fang or a Moon Flower? A Sugarteef? As our elevation dropped below snow levels, I was sweating with the effort under the extra suffocating layers.  I paused on the empty trail to shed some layers. It was going to be a quick change so I didn’t bother going behind a tree or anything. (This was before I knew anything about the great variety of hiker pace.) Hiking pants around my ankles and bent at the waist -- my derrière facing the trail -- I heard a whistle come through the trees loud and clear. I darted upright, pulling my pants with me, but too late. Dreadlocks swinging with a quick and efficient pace, One Step gave me a sly grin and cautioned me. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to get a trail name that way!” he said as he chuckled and passed.  I groaned, imagining the options.

A mile later, in the fresh early morning tread, I came across some writing in the soft dirt of the trail: “Sweet Moon Pie”. Sweet Moon Pie? It was readily clear by the light trail traffic that morning that this was a message for me. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it and told Jan there was no way I was going to keep such a stupid trail name. I wanted something badass. I wanted something clever. I didn’t want something that was 3 words and had a junior high style backstory. But another mile later, we rounded a corner to some hikers taking a break. One of them called out, “Is that Sweet Moon Pie coming?!” There was nothing to be done but respond cheerfully, “It is!” Here was a hiker that didn’t know me, certainly didn’t know my real name, but recognized me based on the quick tale One Step had relayed and greeted me with all the gregariousness of any long-distance hiker.  How could I ignore such camaraderie and silliness?

So in 2015 trail registers across California, you can see Quixote and Sweet Moon Pie marking their progress northward. For your enjoyment, here is a list of the friends we met on the PCT:

Paint
Sunflower
Lone Star
Hardy (aka Bear Can)
Lightswitch
Dr. Dog
Poppins
Smiles
Patches
Scorpia (Queen of the Scorpions, she slept on one for an entire night in the desert and went unharmed)
Firefox
Seventy (aka Cactass, a trail name he tried to reject but those who met him early on knew well the story of the guy who accidentally sat down on a cactus)
Platypiss (no matter how cold, no Platypus water bladder should be used this way, but he did swear he got rid of it afterwards)
One Step
Devil Fish
Whatever
Taxi
Lomax
8 Track
Tarzan
Obiwan
Freefaller
Spaceworm
Spiller
EWalk
Podcast
Hooker
Crazy Cat Lady
Resident Cowboy
Bigfoot
Slowpoke
MacGuyver
Merman (a flowing red mane of hair and beard certainly did give him an Ariel-esque appearance)
Splob (check out his comics!)
Penguin (aka Guino)
Sunkissed
Coppertone (trail angel extraordinaire and maker of root beer floats)
Antsy
Cliffhanger
Coyote
Count (he fastidiously counted all his calories to ensure he wouldn’t run out of food between resupplies)
Mosey
Lobo
Attila the Bun
JudStep
Ellen Boxers
KaraOke
Princess Hubcap
Rat Water
Nordic Trak
Radar
Molly Molly
Nimble
Rusty
Spirit Bear
Hufflepuff
Fill/Phil
Professor
Sherlock (he might be going into the FBI, but he’ll never tell)
Nell
Titan
Shenanigans
Nutella
Bugzapper
Donuts
Waffle
Little Foot
Love It O Leave It
Rainbow
Tiki Mon
Dr. Dre
Big Cheese
Chronic the Hedgehog
Apache
Stopwatch
Steady Eddie
Unicorn
Lucky
Hitchbait (a lovely young woman who was, as all girls are, the best way for her & her boyfriend to successfully hitchhike)
Pops
Chilly Willy
Lancelot
Siesta
Jobs
Foxtrot
Thin Mint
J Walk
Dilly
Dally
Half Time
Double Time
Seabass
Skeeter Bait
Nemo
Fancy Feet
Iron Husk
Poncho
Dandy
Beta
Boomer
Hiccups
StoneFly
Chickadee