Hiking poles form the frame of every shelter I design. Hanging loops are also sewn into the outside peaks for those that do not use poles, for instance, on the massive 41-ounce Cheyenne teepee. This silnylon teepee was designed and put online for all to view in December of 2002.
Sometimes a second pole or lift loop can be used to raise the exterior back wall. All the Tacoma shelters have a loop for that purpose.
We started making the silnylon rain suit available to the public at our online store, Dancing Light Gear. It has a remarkable low weight of 4-5 ounces for a jacket with hood and pockets, and 2 ounces for most rain pants. We did custom sizing and colors on every order. Because they are so durable I knew our customers would have them for a long time, so fit was really important. I was able to quit my job in February 2002, to concentrate on our new business. At the same time, preparations were made for a departure in late March for the Appalachian Trail.
Preparations for the Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike
My Gear List
--- With explanations of later modifications for the Appalachian Trail thru-hike follows:
Tent: The Tacoma, with 6 stakes and seam sealing.... 18 ounces-(no additional modifications).
Pack: My homemade silpack, after I added mesh pockets weighed 9 ounces. I used it the entire trip.
Both weighed a total of only twenty-seven ounces, and were used the entire trip.
Clothing
Fleece Jacket: I sewed a hood and mittens onto this Columbia pullover. Mittens were sewn onto the sleeves, topside only. This allows them to be folded back and tucked inside my sleeve when not in use. This design originated when I made my silnylon rain jacket for the PCT hike in 2001. They were very useful, so I put some fleece mittens on my fleece jacket the same way.
The fleece jacket weighed 12 ounces. I kept it the entire trip.
Fleece Tights: These tights were also homemade, so they would fit tightly, and not be too long. They weighed 7 ounces. I sent them home at Damascus.
Silnylon rain jacket: This is the same jacket that won a prize in 2001 on the Pacific Crest Trail. It weighed 4 ounces. As a vital layer all year long, I kept it the entire trip.
Silnylon rain pants: The same rain pants used on the PCT. I used them in my sleeping bag and also when hiking. They weighed only 2 ounces, so I kept them the entire trip.
Gram weenie sandals: Rainmaker made these for me. Weighing only 1 ounce, I carried them from Fontana Dam, NC to the end of the trail at Mt. Katahdin in Maine.
Silk shorts: A friend gave these to me in Harper’s Ferry. I kept them for sleeping. The shorts weighed 2 ounces.
The following items I carried from Springer Mtn., Georgia to Waynesboro, Virginia. There, I packed them into a cardboard drop box and sent them ahead to Glencliff, New Hampshire to be used only in the White Mountains. They were discarded in Gorham, New Hampshire:
Nylon tights: These had the feet sewn in, and weighed only 3 ounces.
Silk long sleeve shirt: This shirt was a pullover and was nearly worn out from previous hikes. I bought a button down silk shirt in Waynesboro, and shipped the old one home. Both weighed the same, at 4 ounces.
Smart Wool socks: These socks were my warm layer for sleeping and weighed 4 ounces.
Watch cap: This homemade cap was made of a lightweight fleece and weighed just one and a half ounces.
Fleece gloves: The gloves were not needed in the summer because of the mittens that were attached to my rain jacket as well as my fleece jacket. They weighed 1.5 ounces, and were handy in the cold months and in the White Mountains.
Total weight of clothing when I began at Springer Mtn., Georgia was 43 ounces, or 2 pounds 11 ounces. When I finished the trail at Mt. Katahdin in Maine, the weight of my clothing was 21 ounces.
Cooking System
My original system for 1,600 miles contained a 3-cup capacity aluminum cook pot with lid, a plastic margarine container for a cup, and my magic trail spoon. The soda can stove, pot support, and windscreen all nested in the pot. I used hexamine solid fuel tablets, and carried two 24-ounce soda bottles for water. This system weighted 10 ounces.
My new system for the last 591 miles (Massachusetts Hwy. 2 to Mt. Katahdin) contained the same soda can stove and magic trail spoon, matches and lighter. Rainmaker made a new pot support from a 15-ounce bean can to hold my mini-pot, which was made from a gel canned heat container. A lid for this pot was fashioned from a cat food lid that had been sanded and taped with heat resistant tape. A windscreen was made from aluminum foil. A cup-bowl system made from a powdered drink mix was used as my rehydration cook set. It was trimmed so that it was just tall enough for the mini-pot, pot support and soda can stove to nest inside. This new system weighed only 3 ounces. With the magic trail spoon, 8 hex tablets, plastic 8-ounce soda bottle for fuel, matches and lighter the new cook system weight was 7.5 ounces.
Total weight at beginning of hike: 10 ounces
Total weight at end of hike: 7.5 ounces
Sleeping System
Cats Meow Sleeping Bag: This 20 degree synthetic bag was cut down to fit me, yet it weighed 40 ounces. In Damascus I bought a 30-degree Marmot 800 fill down bag, which I modified to fit my height, forming a soft insulating “nest” of feathers for my feet. It weighed only 24 ounces and stuffed to half the volume of my Cats Meow model.
Closed cell short pad: Trimmed to 19 inches wide and 55 inches long, it weighed 8 ounces. I kept this same pad the entire trip.
Kitchen size garbage bag: Used to line my sleeping bag stuff sack.
Total weight at beginning of hike: 48 ounces
Total weight at end of hike: 32 ounces
Others
Trail guide, and data sheets, credit card, driver’s license: The weight varied with the quantity. It usually was about 4 ounces, with a pen. I later reduced it to just 4 sheets of trimmed paper at any given time, which lowered the weight to about an ounce. I used the backside of guide sheets for my journal, mailing them home as often as possible. I burned my data sheets in campfires and bought envelopes at the post office as needed.
Silnylon ditty bag was used as a wallet, and weighed 7 grams.
Silnylon pack cover was 1.5 ounces.
Photon lights, ultralight can opener, razor-knife and watch (minus the band) were all threaded onto an elastic cord, and carried in my pocket. They weighed 1 ounce. I kept all these items the entire trip.
Total weight at beginning of hike: 7 ounces
Total weight at end of hike: 4 ounces
Hygiene/Medical
A ditty bag containing the following items (in the smallest, sample sizes available) included:
Tooth brush, toothpaste, floss
cotton balls, 2 oz. bottle rubbing alcohol
Multi-vitamins and Ibuprofen, in snack size zip lock bags
ultralight mirror, tweezers, razor
sunscreen/ Deet/ Vaseline
liquid soap.... 1 ounce
chlorine for water purification in a one ounce bottle
ultralight trowel, t-paper
The only things I eliminated here were the vitamins (which had become bad with the humidity), the soap and sunscreen.
Total weight at beginning of hike: 9 ounces
Total weight at end of hike: 5.5 ounces
Murphy Kit
My needles were taped to the tube of Vaseline to keep them safe. I used dental floss for thread.
Free flowing super glue, and a few safety pins
Electrical tape was wound around water bottles. I kept all these items to the end.
Total weight: 2 ounces
Wearing
For the purpose of a “skin out”, or base weight, I list these items:
Shorts, with pockets made of 100% nylon were 5 ounces. I later found a lighter pair for 4 ounces.
My sports shirt had a built in bra, and lasted the entire trail, weighed 3 ounces.
I started in sandals, which hurt my knees, and changed to trail runners that weighed 24 ounces. The shoes I finished with weighed 2
2 ounces.
I wear only one pair of 100% nylon socks at a time. They weigh 1 ounce.
A 100% cotton bandana lasted the entire trail and weighed 1 ounce.
My sunglasses weigh 1 ounce.
Total weight at beginning of hike: 35 ounces
Total finish at end of hike: 32 ounces
Komperdell Hiking poles, a Christmas present from Rainmaker were not included in pack weight, they weighed 18 ounces.
At the beginning of my hike, my total pack weight, without food and water, for cold weather (including clothing worn) was 181 ounces, or 11.31 pounds. At the completion of my hike, my total pack weight, including clothing worn, was 130 ounces, or 8 pounds 2 ounces.
This is a valid weight. The Port Clinton outfitter weighed my pack at 14 pounds. It had four days of food, and 12 ounces of water. After Port Clinton, I lightened my cook system, and stopped carrying the soap and sunscreen. It may be noted that although I am a small person and therefore each item can be lighter, as a soloist I still required all the gear a very tall person would. This final base pack weight is about 7% of my body weight. With food for 4 days, and a quart of water, it is approximately 12% of my body weight. Given the very cold weather situations, including 4 days of food and a quart of water, the percentage would rise to nearly 16%.
Ultralight Passion
One can survive with very little. I am predisposed to this frame of mind; my mom raised six of us alone; Dad took off when I was only 4 years old. We lived on next to nothing during my entire childhood. I learned to make do with what I had, or make things out of other people’s discards.
When Henry Thoreau was once asked to advise on how one might sell more decorative baskets (as an income), he said that he spent his time figuring out ways not to have to sell them. That’s a great ultralight attitude. If I don’t need it, I don’t have to earn it, and I don't have to carry it.
A minimalist attitude is not really a change for me. I have never been an accumulator. If I wasn’t using it, out it went. While hiking solo, I had a lot of time for deep thinking. Part of my minimalist attitude was the sense of impending homelessness; the less I had, the less to leave behind, the less to move. Trinkets of life are beautiful, but they all require energy to maintain.
I still work through those negative feelings, the last remaining bars to come down. I have become self-sufficient; and remind myself that assuredly I have the ability to survive. What still perplexes me is this continuing notion of perceived security in ownership, and its natural corollary: perceived insecurity when one owns no real estate.
In the great quest for the best gear for the lowest weight, I give myself permission to have just what I want. Usually that means making it, or searching through catalogues and store aisles for something that can be modified. This way, it can be cut down to the extreme I am comfortable with.
One of my favorite Thoreau quotes supports this extremism:
“Most men are needlessly poor all their lives because they think they must have a house as their neighbors have. Consider how slight a shelter is absolutely necessary.”
Chapter Six
Appalachian Trail 2002
If I knew then what I know now, I don’t know if I would play.
-From My Story, by Michael Jordan
Your First Game
This is your first game.
I hope you win.
I hope you win for your sake, not mine.
Because winning’s nice.
It’s a good feeling.
Like the whole world is yours.
But it passes, this feeling.
And what lasts is what you’ve learned.
And what you learn about is life.
That’s what sports is all about.
Life.
The whole thing is played out in an afternoon.
The happiness of life.
The miseries.
The joys. The heartbreaks.
There’s no telling what’ll turn up.
There’s no telling whether they’ll toss you out in the first five minutes
or whether you’ll stay for the long haul.
There’s no telling how you’ll do.
You might be a hero or you might be absolutely nothing.
Too much depends on chance.
On how the ball bounces.
I’m not talking about the game;
I’m talking about life.
But it’s life that the game is all about.
Just as I said.
Applying the Techniques
But every game is life.
And life is a game.
A serious one. Dead serious.
But that’s what you do with serious things. You do your best.
You take what comes.
You take what comes and you run with it.
Winning is fun.
Sure.
But winning is not the point.
Wanting to win is the point.
Not giving up is the point.
Never being satisfied with what you’ve done is the point.
Never letting up is the point.
Never letting anyone down is the point.
Play to win.
Sure.
But lose like a champion.
Because it’s not winning that counts.
What counts is trying. —Author Unknown
Michael then said, “I can’t accept not trying.”
This favorite poem, found in some obscure newspaper about ten years ago, took me through many rough times, including my divorce and relocating to the southern US. When I faced loneliness on the trail and turning points in life, I remembered that this was my first game, all of it. I would not give up, nor be satisfied with the past. I was in this to win, and would die trying.
It started raining last night, but still it was time to begin my AT thru-hike. Rainmaker drove me to the trailhead at Springer Mountain via Forest Service Road 42 on March 12, 2002. This is a 15-mile gravel road, and it allowed me to skip the 7-mile, blue blaze, approach trail from Amicalola Falls State Park. He hiked with me through the mud and mist to the plaque and white blaze that marks the southern terminus of the AT, and took photos. Reality began setting in. We hiked back to the parking lot. Rainmaker took a last photo as I set off into the woods. I couldn’t look back. Already I missed him.
Even with the constant rain and considerable condensation, I slept warm that first night out. A price is paid for a single wall, ultralight, silnylon tent. One can’t always stay dry, but they can still be warm. A camp towel was used to wipe up the moisture. With last night's deluge, I had proof that my tent did not leak.
I started my journey hiking in Nike sandals. I personally knew other long distance hikers who hiked entire trails in sandals. But, for some reason, my left knee began to hurt. In gear testing hikes with these same sandals, they had ached on the downhill, and I thought it was a fluke, but now even the uphill portions of trail hurt. No matter how slow I went, or how much care I took, nothing except keeping my left knee absolutely straight would stop the excruciating pain. The climb up Blood Mountain was agonizing. Something must change; I could not go on like this.
After consulting with Rainmaker, I finally accepted the fact that these sandals were not working for me. I took 13 days off to allow healing of the ligament and tendon injuries to my knee, and bought some trail runner shoes. The season was early, and there was time, but the compulsion for completion nagged me.
Back on the trail March 27th, I worried how my knees would respond. I hiked slowly; fully utilizing the hiking poles, especially downhill, allowing my arms to bear some of the stress. It seemed I wasn’t getting very far. The sun began to set, a full moon rose to the right as I walked a crest. The wind turned cold and I decided to forego night hiking and camped. It was very windy, but I slept well. That first day back, I managed to hike only ten miles.
Rising with the sun is a habit developed last year on the PCT to cope with desert heat. I was right back at it; enjoying t
he sunrise, greeting and passing other hikers still packing up in camp. Rainmaker supported my hike that first month by meeting me at predetermined towns and bringing me home, where I washed clothes, made minor modifications to gear, and resupplied. Then he would drive me back to the trail the next day.
Badger, from Virginia, earned the dubious honor of having the heaviest pack. At Neels Gap it weighed 87 pounds. In order to continue his thru-hike, he shipped 40 pounds of gear home. Reportedly he was giving stuff away on the approach trail, having begun with an incredible 100-pound pack. In most camps, I was the only ultralighter, and the homemade gear received a lot of attention. My pack was passed around for a test lift, my tent inspected, and exclamations of various sorts followed.
I felt terrific, my knees adjusted to the terrain, and my pace began to return. The synchronized motion of using my poles and stepping in this fresh mountain air was so invigorating. As the hike progressed, I trained myself to go longer between rest breaks.
Breaks may be classified as:
Type 1= a pee break (may or may not remove pack).
Type 2= pee break, drink water, and eat a snack (may or may not remove pack).
Type 3= remove pack, sit down, remove shoes, eat, drink, and pee (about 15-20 minutes).
Type 4= all of type 3, over the course of an hour, many take this time to air dry tents, sleeping bags, and socks.
Type 5=involves sleep, and all the above.
Note that all breaks involve peeing. If you do not need to pee, you may need to drink more water.
My Journey to Freedom and Ultralight Backpacking Page 9
