Trail Names

In my last video/blog, I mentioned that our dog Joy had officially earned her trail name. This is an alias that one goes by on the trail. Sometimes one shows up to the trail with his or her trail name already figured out, as was the case for Mighty Blue (aka Steve Adams, whose books and podcast I’ve recommended.) More often than not, though, a trail name is bestowed on its recipient by other hikers based on some action performed, a particular character trait, or the hiker’s appearance. For example, Joy’s trail name, Zig-Zag, was given to her because of her propensity to zig and zag from side to side along the trail instead of walking straight ahead. By walking so many “hypotenuses,” she winds up covering more distance than either Gavin or I.

The reason I mention trail names is that I’ve been thinking about whether or not I would rather show up with a name or take my chances on being given one. Beth suggested that I call myself “Skunk Butt.” I have been led to believe she is less than enamored by my beard and this name is a jab at the significant grey stripe down its front. I told her I could stick my tongue out a little and be called “Skunk Butt Hemorrhoid.” For some reason, she didn’t think that was funny.

When I was naming this blog I decided to call it “The Next Step” because that is what it represents. This website is the narrative of what comes next after my retirement from teaching. Lately I have been thinking about the name in another way. Certainly, the AT is the next step along my journey, but it is also a reminder that all I have to do to be successful in my trip is just take the next step, and the next, and so forth.

So many successful thru-hikers whose stories I’ve read or have watched on YouTube emphasize the importance of setting small goals. To start the AT in north Georgia with only the goal being summiting Katahdin seems insurmountable; the goals need to be smaller and achieved more frequently to provide encouragement along the way. For many hikers, reaching each of the 14 state lines crossed by the trail represents the accomplishment of a goal. I guess this is why Virginia becomes such a slog for many hikers that they refer to the “Virginia Blues.” This is because about one-fourth of the total miles of the AT are contained within this state. The trail through Virginia goes on and on, following the Blue Ridge Parkway, then Skyline Drive, and finally heading through the Shenandoahs. Because of the trail’s length in this state, the attainment of these mini-goals that pass more quickly when traveling in other states is slowed dramatically. Especially in Virginia, smaller goals are necessary to provide the encouragement needed to continue the journey.

Hikers rejoice at reaching 100-mile marks along the trail. Generally, these are marked along the trail with sticks or rocks spelling out 3-0-0 or 1-2-0-0. Northbound (NOBO) hikers get really excited when they start running into the SOBO’s mile markers because they start counting down the distance remaining to Katahdin. There will be plenty of such markers throughout Virginia to keep things moving up the trail.

Breaking it down even further, most hikers travel with The Appalachian Trail Guide by David Miller and/or the Guthooks trail app, both of which cite trail landmarks every few tenths of a mile or so. These may be side trails, water sources, shelters, campsites, or road crossings. These resources, rather than map and compass, are the navigation tools of thru-hikers. Most spend time in the evenings looking at the trail ahead to plan out the next day’s miles. To decide that I’m going to end the day at such and such a shelter, and making it there by dark, represents the satisfaction of another, though smaller, goal. Smaller still is the task of reaching the particular fire tower, shelter, or overlook where one plans to have lunch or a snack. Thus, reaching Katahdin is only accomplished by first meeting each of the innumerable small goals set in place that are the stepping stones toward the final objective.

To be truthful, I have actually been looking forward to seeing what trail name might be hung on me. I certainly make plenty of bonehead mistakes, I am tall, and I’ll be hiking at the age of 52. Each of these characteristics leaves the door wide open for numerous possible names which would at the very least make some people laugh, even if I was not among those seeing the humor. Here lately, though, I have given serious consideration to adopting the name “Next Step.” It is the smallest goal of all, and hearing it daily should prod me along the way toward reaching the final summit. Most certainly, when the weather is rain for a week with barely above freezing temperatures, and the trail is thousands of feet of incline, I will need all the encouragement I can get. The good news is, I still have a few months to ruminate over this decision.