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Cause ya know, I'm the whole tree-hugging, technology-shunning, who-needs-civilization kind of girl.
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Many of them get to know each other, asking "Have you met so-and so?" and " How long have you been out?" They have trail names (like Panda Bear and Peter Pan and Red Flag) and trail lingo (Sobo and pack-slacking and purists) and inside trail jokes (hiker smells and the creepy old men). It's like a dirty, smelly exclusive club. With some of the strictest entrance requirements I've ever seen.
How do they afford four or five months in which they make nothing and spend money on expensive hiking gear and occasional restaurants and hotels?
I don't know. The one guy said some people are retired, some just out of school, some on disability. (I know, right? Anyone on disability who can hike for four months...my tax dollars at work.)
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But anyway, our three days was a pretty good first trip for me. I saw some great countryside views, I walked in the rain, I made my ankles sore jumping over rocks. I spent time with my Dad and we sang such hiking classics as "The ants go marching," "John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt," and "I know an old lady who swallowed a fly."
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It was a good time.
But tip to myself for next time: bring a sleeping mat.
Where is the picture of me holding the copperhead snake?
ReplyDeleteAnd the one with me fighting off the grizzly bears?
ReplyDeleteOk! So neither of those happened. But using the privy at Windsor Furnace should count for something.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a good time! Looks like it was a good time for nature and dad bonding!
ReplyDeleteI am jealous. Or at least I was until I saw the picture of the black mamba.
ReplyDeleteThe need for showers and indoor toilets is what distiguishes "real" hikers from us "day" hikers.
Obviously I need to apply for dis-hillbillity, so that I can go hike in New Zealand for three months.