Those Last Five Pounds

In reviewing my Pacific Crest Trail Gear and reading gear recommendations for the CDT, I've started to think more about weight. I'm certainly not an ultra-lighter, nor am I really a light-weight backpacker. I'm generally content to carry whatever fits in my pack.

I started the Appalachian Trail with about fifty pounds on my back. I had heard the adage that "ounces equal pounds equals pain", but I didn't really listen. The pack I started with was donated by a friend. It alone weighed seven pounds. Like many first-time thru-hikers, I had way too much stuff.

I was reminded of my AT predicament last Spring during a warm-up hike that Reason and I took before heading to California to start the PCT. We started at Springer Mountain, the AT's southern terminus, and headed north for a few days. The hikers we met along the way had a long trek in front of them. It is over 2,000 miles to Mt. Katahdin in Maine, a daunting figure when suddenly you are at Springer, having most likely given up your job, possibly your abode, and temporarily your relationships.

One of the hikers we met during that warm-up hike was about the best-natured person I've ever met. He was young and strong, but suffering under the weight of an enormous pack. He'd read all of the books and advice about backpacking, but still had too much stuff. This is not unusual for first-time through hikers. Much advice about backpacking and safety recommends taking along all sorts of emergency supplies. Of course a hiker's first priority is to keep himself safe and healthy, but more recent thought suggests carrying less stuff and making better decisions about being in the elements. You can carry fewer clothes, for example, as long as you recognize that if you are too cold to hike you need to get to a lower elevation and get in your sleeping bag. You don't have to carry ten days of food if you find out where to resupply in the middle of the hike.

It goes without saying that different hikes require different gear and weather considerations, but the point remains that a hiker does not need the kitchen sink. The Good-Natured Hiker we met had all the gear to keep him safe, but it was making him miserable. He didn't need a heavy rope, for example. Nor did he need a hatchet or heavy blue tarp. He certainly didn't need the multi-dispenser spice kit. In good humor, this hiker pulled out two large summer sausages at a shelter one evening and offered it all around. "I'm not carrying these any farther, so please help yourselves," he smiled.

This Good-Natured Hiker is to be commended for his efforts at being prepared. I have heard it said, though, that a hiker tends to carry his fears with him. A hiker afraid of being hungry will carry too much food. A hiker afraid of running out of water will carry too much water. Would it be awful to run out of food and water? Of course! Are you going to die if you run short? Unlikely. That burger and coke in town will simply taste a lot better.

For my own part, I was afraid of being cold. Fortunately, at the 30 mile mark on the AT there is a conveniently located outfitter called Mountain Crossings at Neels Gap. I'm not sure whether it is more convenient for the hiker toiling under his heavy backpack or for the owners who practically operate a mint. Either way, Mountain Crossings is an amazing resource. I can't think of an outfitter that is better suited to long-distance hikers. Like many a thru-hiker, I made an appointment at the shop for a "shake-down". The friendly folks at Mountain Crossings walked through every piece of my gear with me until I had identified what I could send home, what I could replace with lighter equipment, and what I couldn't do without. In my case, I had way too many layers of warm clothing, most of which I sent home.

A gear shake-down is one of the best preparation exercises a hiker can do. It helps, too, to start by keep a spreadsheet listing the weight of each and every item of gear and clothing with a running total of the overall weight before food and water is added to the pack. This is what is known as base weight. Some hikers take this to the extreme. Known as gram-weenies, they are also the ones who are cold at night but who often have very innovative home-made gear that they weigh to the gram. You'll know you are in the company of thru-hikers if the folks around you are constantly bragging about their base weight.

Though the base weight lends an additional metric of competition to the sport of long-distance hiking, being conscious of base weight does make for a more comfortable hike. The Good-Natured Hiker with the many summer sausages wasn't going to go hungry, but he may never have had the chance to rescue himself or anyone else with his heavy rope because it would have been quite difficult to carry that rope and the tens of pounds of other equipment all the way to Maine.

When Reason and I turned South to head back to our car, we again met this Good-Natured Hiker. He had come through Neels Gap a transformed man. His already good-natured smile now spread from ear to ear, for his pack was a fraction of its original size! An already strong hiker, he was now bounding up and down the steep grades of North Georgia. It was a joy to see, and I have no doubt that he summited Mt. Katahdin in good speed.

I myself am not a gram-weenie. I do now keep a spreadsheet, but some things I never get around to weighing. I've been known to carry a book. I've been known to carry an extra liter of water in the desert. Reason makes fun of me for this, but he has run out of water more than once and then buttered me up while eyeing my extra liter. Reason is in fact making fun of how much I carry as I write these very words!

I do carry more than Reason. I hike with a Granite Gear Nimbus Ozone backpack. It holds a full ten pounds more than Reason's much smaller looking Vapor Trail pack. Folks we've passed on the trail have done a double take at this sight. Either they think I'm stronger or that I'm a beast of burden. Truth be known, when Reason and I were hiking together on the AT, I did carry the entire two-person tent when his knees were hurting. It was actually the tent I started with independently of Reason, but we did share it. Reason's family never lets up on the notion that "I carried his gear for him".

Reason would say that he would never choose such a heavy tent to begin with. It didn't hurt my cause, though to invite Reason to share my tent with me on a particularly rainy night in North Carolina. His ultra-light sil-nylon tarp looked to be about the size of a washcloth, and I said so. I didn't think it would keep him dry, and he obliged!

We hiked with a palatial two-person free-standing tent for much of the PCT. Though I loved sleeping under the stars, the tent was warm in the High Sierra and the bug netting was indispensable in much of Northern California and most of Oregon. The tent offered plenty of room for the two of us and our packs and had enough head room so that we could both sit up inside.

Reason was embarrassed by this tent. He didn't want to be seen in it. "Too heavy," he would complain. "No serious ultra-lighter would ever be caught with it." Reason loves the idea of shedding weight. He once took to eating 2,000 calories a day for months to reduce his very body weight in preparation for a hike on the Long Trail. The less body weight he has, the less overall weight he has to carry around on a hike, was his reasoning. True, but I got some looks from his sister after seeing his somewhat emaciated state that suggested that maybe I wasn't taking very good care of my husband. On the PCT, Reason also took to removing his hip belt from his pack. Serious gram-weenies can't be bothered to carry even the weight of the hip belt itself, not to mention that their base weight doesn't merit one.

Well, I like to think I'm conscious of my pack weight, but the truth is I'm not. I carry all kinds of things. I started the PCT with three half-used mini tubes of toothpaste. I just didn't see the need to have to buy more until I used those up. (Reason doesn't know this and will laugh at me now!) I tell myself that the weight of little things like that doesn't matter, but that is the same lie I tell myself every time I eat a cookie! In truth, it all adds up.

I'm still afraid of the cold. I just purchased a zero degree down sleeping bag for the CDT. It weighs 42 ounces - 13 ounces more than my 15 degree bag. That's the better part of a pound! My plan is to carry fewer clothes this time around in exchange for a warmer sleeping bag.

I guess I'd better get back to my spreadsheet and figure that out!

Advice

A prospective thru-hiker contacted me to ask for some advice about the Appalachian Trail. Here is how I responded.

Go lightweight - it will hurt less and you just don't need much. Resupply in town instead of having to get to the PO for packages. Have fun in town, but don't stay too long. Party with other hikers, but don't spend too much money on beer so you have enough money to get to Maine. Dry out your feet in the sun a few times a day, or every time you rest. Eat a salad every time you get to town- you'll feel better. Don't rush. The hike will be over before you know it and then you'll have to get a job again. Do some 20 plus mile days so you feel the burn, but take your time on most days. Some hikers are gonna drive you crazy, but they are all part of this awesome hiker fraternity and they all have an interesting story. Take lots of pictures, especially of the hikers. Make sure you get contact info for the people you meet - when the hike is over you can go sleep on their couches and talk gear and trail all night long. Non-hikers are excited about your trip, but don't really care about gear and can't necessarily appreciate the great stories you'll have about hiking in the rain for a week. Mind your manners in trail towns. You are stinky and homeless and you depend on the town for its services. It only takes one badly behaved hiker to make all hikers unwelcome in a little trail town. Offer a donation to trail angels and gas money to people who give you rides. Take the time to talk to the people you meet, even if you've answered the question about how many pairs of shoes you've worn out a million times. Most people don't have the moxy to hike 2000 miles and they are truly excited about what you are doing. Give them that excitement, but be humble. Chances are they have the moxy to do something you would never consider, so listen to their stories. Don't take a cell phone. You won't need it and it is nice to get away from everyone else in your life for a while. And no one wants to hear anyone else yakking on a phone in the middle of the woods. Keep a journal, even if you are tired. You don't have to write a novel, just jot down a few phrases so you can remember the little or big things you see each day. You'll be glad you did when you are back at work and have responsibilities that keep you from getting out in the woods.

Top advice: go slow at first. Georgia will put you in your place with its steep and frequent elevation changes. Let your body break in with eight and ten mile days, then move on to twelve and fifteen. Your knees and ligaments will thank you. Everyone leaving Springer will feel antsy and competitive. Ignore them. The only thing getting you to Katahdin is your mind. Your primary competition is yourself.

Have fun!

To Begin...

How did it come to this, that I would sign up for yet another year of lost income and continuing transience in order to indulge myself in yet another two thousand plus-mile hike?

I guess it all started when I was a little girl. My family took me to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina when I was growing up. We spent long weekends day-hiking with little packs full of bread, extra-sharp cheddar cheese, and of course good chocolate. When I was four years old, my father carried me part of the way up to Mount LeConte in the Smoky Mountains to spend the weekend in rustic cabins. I actually hiked the rest! I loved it, even while my teenage sister wondered what all the fuss was about.

At some point in Western North Carolina's mountains, my family were passed by what I would call "blurs" today. These young folks were moving fast, fast enough to make just the blurry impression of being hikers. They were lean and muscular - and smelly!

Delighted, my father explained to me that these folks were hiking the Appalachian Trail all the way from Georgia to Maine. I don't think I had any concept of the mileage between those two points at the time, but I knew right away that I wanted to hike to Maine, too.

I filed that encounter away for some time, going about the business of school and growing up, but the memory resurfaced at an opportune time. I was traveling in Southeast Asia and Australia when it happened. I was in a go-go bar in Bangkok's Patpong district on September 11, 2001. My friend and I left the bar and resurfaced on the street level to a television showing a building blowing up in what looked to be a Bruce Willis movie. But of course that wasn't the case.

Now, we were perfectly safe in Bangkok. My friend and I soon learned to pretend to be Canadian in order to avoid the overly solicitous condolences we received as Americans from the friendly Thai people. But our friends and family at home were concerned that we make it home safely. Not being one to capitulate to patriotic sympathies, nor, really, to do anything someone else wants me to, I continued my travels as planned for another two months. The last thing I wanted was to return to the safety of the fold.

Actually, I had grand plans to prolong my travels. Having lived in Los Angeles for four years, I found myself ready for new adventures. Los Angeles expanded my horizons beyond what I could have imagined when I moved there at the age of 22, but I no longer needed my Thomas Guide map to get around the city. I wanted more. I have an inborn wanderlust that nags me, to the point that all I could talk about as a very small child was my desire to get to Italy as soon as possible.

For the next two months I kept a list of even the most ridiculous ideas that popped into my mind. And I remembered those blurs on the Appalachian Trail.

A little over a year later, I was making my way to Mt. Katahdin at the end of the Appalachian Trail in Maine. Along the way, I met people who had done all kinds of things - most of which did not involve wearing a suit and going to an office. Some of those people let me in on the other two major long distance trails: the Pacific Crest Trail and the Continental Divide Trail. I began the AT with the idea that I would have no interest in another such attempt. I completed the AT wondering how soon I could get back to the cool, dark quiet nights, the physicality of hiking all day long, the views, the wildlife, the spring water, and of course the hikers.

Now that I've caught the hiking bug, I've never looked back. I'm done with dull, pursed, bricked-in Boston. Let me out into the world!

Breaking News!

Drum roll, please!

Team Creason announces 2009 Continental Divide Trail hike.

Team Creason, also known as Cruiser and Reason, met on the Appalachian Trail in 2003. Together they successfully hiked all 2,176 miles from Georgia to Maine. The couple then married. They have just walked 2,656 miles from Mexico to Canada on the Pacific Crest Trail, reaching the Canadian border in September 2008.

The latest plan in the couple's endless quest for adventure entails following the Continental Divide through the Rocky Mountains from Mexico to Canada. Or possibly from Canada to Mexico, it all depends on the snow.

In April, Team Creason will take a look at the snow levels in Colorado. If the snow is of average depth, Team Creason will head for the Mexican border in New Mexico in May to tackle a northbound hike. If the snow depth in Colorado as of April is very high, the intrepid duo will delay their plans until mid-June and start at the Canadian border in Montana.

Until then, much planning and training are taking place at Team Creason's winter base in Cruiser's hometown of Columbia, South Carolina.

Should Team Creason successfully complete the Continental Divide Trail, the couple will be eligible for the coveted Triple Crown Award. Presented by the American Long Distance Hiking Association West, the Triple Crown Award honors hikers who successfully complete the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail.

PCT FINALE

Columbia, SC

Dear all-

Here it is -- the long awaited conclusion. Really, it would be much less dramatic without all of the suspense!

Reason and I completed the Pacific Crest Trail on September 17th. The Canadian border was a long way from Mexico, and a far cry from that ugly barbed wire fence, the armed helicopters, and the attendant politics. We just walked right in to Canada, crossing a six foot wide mowed line that spans in either direction through the trees and over the peaks. We carried mini bottles of champagne to celebrate. As it was a sunny afternoon and we'd already hiked 14 miles, the bubbly went straight to our heads. What more can you ask of four ounces?

Despite the earlier inclement weather, Washington failed to intimidate us and soon dried and reddened into a beautiful Indian Summer. Actually, Reason simply ordered up the nice weather from Buddha, who in all his benevolence, or perhaps in reward, provided. This confirmed for me my long-standing suspicion that Reason has the power to affect the weather.

Let me back up and provide a little context. It rained most days of April, May and June when we hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2003. When we meet other hikers and make the inevitable exchange of hiking credentials, a look of astonishment comes across the faces of knowing audiences when we say we are ATGAME03. (This abbreviation, like an MD or PhD, is how hikers qualify themselves. ATGAME03 indicates that we hiked the Appalachian Trail northbound from Georgia to Maine in 2003.) The astonishment is often accompanied by intakes of breath and the declaration that we made it through The Wet Year.

Before hiking the PCT this year, I was unaware that 2003 had attained the moniker "The Wet Year." But I'm not surprised. It rained so much that even if we dried out in the morning, another afternoon thunderstorm would roll in and drench us again. Water, taking the path of least resistance, often flooded the trail until it became an ankle-deep stream. Our packs and clothes grew specks of black mildew. I can't describe what the saturation did to our hiker funk. You don't want to know. The Wet Year is the reason I couldn't conceive of hiking in the Southern California desert without a full suit of rain gear.

The real problem for me was that every time it rained, Reason would shake his trekking poles at the sky and ask, "Buddha, is this all you've got?" Furious, I'd ask Reason why he felt the need to tempt fate. "What? Are you superstitious?" was always Reason's reply. Such taunts made my blood boil, fueling my logical, scientific Reason's requests of Buddha. He insisted that we were being tested.

And we were. Thru-hiking is a test of endurance. You won't be successful if you don't wake up every day and keep hiking, no matter how hot, cold, rainy, tired, thirsty, or hungry you are. On the AT, you won't make it to Maine unless you pack up your gear and step out of the dry shelter into the cold rain.

I couldn't help but notice, however, that it did seem to rain harder when Reason asked Buddha to bring it on. So when I suggested that Reason "be positive" and ask Buddha for Indian Summer instead of rain, and we got Indian Summer, we decided that Reason must indeed have the power to change the weather. Secretly, I think Reason enjoys his weather-altering superpower!

The warm, beautiful weather was a delight and a relief, but also took a bit of drama away from the finale. The reason we hiked 25 miles a day from Yosemite, after all, was to beat the cold and potentially snowy fall weather in Washington. In 2007, many PCT hikers were prevented from completing the trail due to heavy September snow. We had no intention of setting out for Canada and not making it, so we pushed hard and hiked until dark almost every day. It was hard to rationalize a day off from hiking on a blue, sunny day in Washington. But the final ten days of beautiful weather made me wonder if we could have slowed down a bit to savor the last few days.

When it comes down to it, though, I'm grateful for the weather - and Reason's superpower. Our success this year had much to do with favorable weather conditions. The spring in the desert was mild and the scarce water sources were flowing, the snow levels in the Sierras were low, and Washington and Oregon were for the most part dry and warm. The earlier heavy snows in Oregon and Washington provided ample water sources by the time we arrived. We did keep putting one foot in front of the other until we made it to Canada, but we were lucky. Other years on the PCT are notable for being High Snow Years or Dry Years (meaning water is scarce). Maybe this year will be a Good Year.

While celebrating our good year at the border, we were joined by a gentleman heading south. Like many folks we have met on the trail, this man was a PCT enthusiast. He belongs to the PCTA, goes to trail conventions, and follows on-line trail journals. He even brought along a list of 2008 PCT hikers so that he could check to see if they had signed into the trail register hidden inside the Washington Monument-esque border marker. Like many such PCT enthusiasts, though, he rarely hikes the PCT. When, while interrupting our border reverie to pronounce that the US/Canada border is really an anticlimactic place to complete the PCT, being in the middle of the woods at the bottom of a valley, I had to snap back. "Actually," I said, "I'm pretty excited about it!"

After a short while of being subject to this gentleman's comments and advice on how to hike the trail, I decided to pack up and get ready to hike the final eight miles to Manning Provincial Park headquarters. We had some celebrating to do, and there was a restaurant just ahead.

Once we were out of earshot, I remarked to Reason that I couldn't believe we had just been "post-officed" at the border, on our last day! Post-officing is a term I made up to describe a syndrome that plagues hikers, though typically this happens in town. As you may know, hikers are often dependent upon General Delivery service at rural post offices. Many hikers send themselves packages of food, and of course they need occasional gear changes. (In Reason's case, mere proximity to a post office is reason enough for a delivery of new gear.)

When receiving a package at a small post office, it is typical for a hiker to then proceed to spread the entire contents of his backpack and package around him on the floor in the corner of the post office, or perhaps on the sidewalk outside, for organizational purposes. This is just part of being homeless and lacking the luxury of real estate and privacy. If it has recently rained, the hiker may also spread out his tent and sleeping bag to dry on a nearby wall or fence. This practice is known as hiker-trashing-up a place. The perpetrator is known as hiker-trash. This can be a derogatory term if you are a denizen of the place being hiker-trashed. Alternatively, this can be a term of endearment inside the hiker community, as in: "Look at that hiker-trash over there! I haven't seen you in 200 miles!"

Nevertheless, surrounding yourself by all of your earthly possessions in public tends to draw attention. At the post office, this attention comes in the form of retired gentlemen who seem to have all the time in the world to ask you about your hike. Now, I'm all for cross-cultural exchange, but several factors make post-office syndrome stressful. For one thing, the hiker is usually at a small post office which may only be open for a few hours a day, every other day. The hiker is under considerable pressure to organize his gear before the post office closes for the two hour lunch break or three day holiday weekend. In a short window of time, the hiker needs to focus on what gear to send home or ahead, where exactly to send it, and how long it will take him to get there. To me, this is usually a simple choice, but for gearheads such as Reason this may be a very complicated decision that probably requires advanced math.

Needless to say, a hiker in the throes of critical gear decision making with an ever approaching deadline who has also spread the entire contents of his backpack on the floor around him is a sitting duck. A hiker in this position cannot physically walk away because he needs to finish his PO business before it closes and he can't abandon the very items he depends upon for survival. Further complicating the situation is that hikers are smelly, dirty, unemployed homeless folks who must be on their best behavior. Every hiker who steps foot into a trail town is an ambassador. It only takes one badly-behaved hiker to make the great unwashed hiker community unwelcome in a particular town, and hikers are dependent upon these towns for food, showers, mail, phones, laundry, etc.

Now, the well-behaved hiker will do his best to kindly answer every question that the post-office offender has to ask, but what makes this syndrome particularly punishing is that often the offender is more interested in telling you a long, long, long story. As I said, I'm all for cross-cultural exchange - it is part of why we go hiking - but the window of opportunity at the post office diminishes with every twist and turn of the offender's fish-story.

Obviously, this syndrome is not confined to the post office, nor are offenders just retired men who seem to look forward to spending their mornings at the post office on Saturdays. It happens everywhere. Like when a few hikers were gobbling fresh, gooey cinnamon rolls at the Stehekin, WA, bakery and a resident of the town asked if he could join us at our table. "I just love to hear your stories! So anyway, I was a fisherman in Alaska for twenty years. Let me tell you how I think Japan fixes the price of fish." And he proceeded to give us a very detailed account of the price per pound of fish and the impact of collective bargaining over the last twenty years. Now, I had never thought much about commercial fishing before, but I seem to have learned quite a lot during that "conversation." I was glad to have some insight into this man's life, but we were also four days from the end of the trail and wanted to spend some quality time with our fellow hikers.

Then there was the time at the first post office on the PCT, at Mt. Laguna, CA. Of course we were there on a Saturday and the hours were 10-noon. In this very sleepy neck of the woods, the general store adjacent to the PO has rocking chairs on the porch. And on this particular Saturday morning, those rocking chairs were full of retired gentlemen. I'm certain this had been their destination all week, the PO being a convenient excuse for their wives to send them out of the house or for them to escape their wives. Having been clued in to post-office syndrome on the AT, I gave the men a wide berth on the way to the PO. Reason and I had our ice axes with us, carrying them through the desert due to poor organization, and now we wanted to mail them ahead. One of the rockers pointed at our obviously aluminum-crafted axes and hooked us. "Are those made of carbon fiber? I've been making fishing rods from carbon fiber and they are fantastic!" This went on for a good twenty minutes, and though neither Reason nor I fish, we have a great idea for a simple marinade that can easily be transported into the backcountry. Makes some really tasty trout if you cook them up with the marinade in a foil packet over the fire. Or so I've been told.

So that's that. Now you've been post-officed for six months!

The hike was over before we knew it. Now I'm enjoying sleeping in a bed and regular showers, but I have a hard time sitting still. I just want to keep moving.

Thanks to you all for your interest and support. We had a wonderful hike, and it was all the better knowing that we had fans. Somebody somewhere said something along the lines of 'There is no bore so boring as the travel bore.' It is always hard to describe traveling to someone else, and so I have really enjoyed that so many of you have enjoyed my emails.

Stay tuned for a link to our pictures. Don't worry - we're culling about 100 from our collection of over 6,000 so we stay in your good graces!

Hope to see and talk to all of you soon. All my best,

Cruiser, ATGAME03, PCTMEXCAN08

Appalachian Trail Gear List 2003

Figuring out gear on the Appalachian Trail was trial-by-fire for me. I hit Springer with much of the wrong stuff, and many heavy items. You can do better!

By the end of the trail, I had lightened up considerably and was tough and lean to boot. I'm really a mid-weight hiker, but I try to do better each time.

Below I will outline the gear I finished with. Gear has become lighter and more sophisticated since 2003, so be sure to take a look at my PCT and CDT gear for ideas as well.


Backpack
Granite Gear Nimbus Ozone backpack, 48 oz
I found this pack at Neels Gap. I loved it! I started with a Lowe Alpine that a friend gave me. It weighed seven pounds when empty! I don't like to buy new things when I have something perfectly good at hand, but this doesn't always work on a thru-hike. The Nimbus Ozone is a nifty mid-weight pack that can hold up to 40 pounds, which is great for those just-resupplied hikes out of town. There are no zippers to break, rather there is a tall collar with cinch that folds up as your load gets smaller. My complaint about this pack is that the foam back pad soaks up sweat and rain, which is difficult to dry in the humid East. Granite Gear has excellent customer service and really cares about its reputation on the trail. Neels Gap didn't have quite the right hip belt and shoulder straps for my frame, but the Granite Gear rep at Trail Days fitted me with a complimentary set of small/narrow shoulder straps and a small women's hip belt. Many sizes of strap and hip belt are available, and the pack comes in at least two torso lengths. I recommend ordering directly from Granite Gear so that you can customize your order.

Equinox pack cover, 3.4 oz
I didn't know pack covers existed until I hit Neels Gap. It sure came in handy during the Wet Year of 2003. The silicon-nylon cover is light. It has an elastic cinch so that it can be adjusted to fit a fuller or less-full pack. One problem with this cover is that water tends to pool at the bottom as it lacks drainage grommets. I made a habit of reaching back and pouring the water out before setting my pack down. I used trash bag liners for the entire contents of my pack as well as for my clothes and sleeping bag.

Clothing
Patagonia silk weight shirts
I think Patagonia now calls these Capilene 1. I had a long sleeved-shirt for April and the beginning of May as the trees were bare and sun was an issue for my lily-white self. Eventually I switched to a short-sleeved shirt, which I later discarded in favor of a Hind workout shirt. The shirt had become so nasty, so permeated with sweat, rain and mildew, that it emitted an awful ammonia stench. Some folks look for light-weight poly/synthetic button downs at thrift stores. I think this is a nice way to save money, avoid buying something new, and possibly add some flair to your look.

North Face nylon shorts
I've never been skinny. Fit and lean, yes, but skinny, never. Even when I summited Katahdin my legs were strong and beefy. The shorts I chose were merely the ones I picked after trying on a million pairs. They were just roomy enough in the leg that they didn't cause any chafing, which is a common problem for men and women on the AT. I cut out the mesh liner to reduce weight and also to eliminate yet another piece of cloth that was capable of soaking up and retaining moisture.

Patagonia mid-weight thermals, top and bottom
I think these are comparable to the Capilene 3 these days. Darn Patagonia and their ever changing systems. At any rate, one top and one bottom is enough for 95% of the nights on the AT. In the summer, I dropped down to silkweight/Cap1 pants and probably kept the mid-weight top.

Marmot Precip pants and jacket, 8 and 12 oz
I wore these a lot. In 2003 it rained most days of April, May and June. Do they keep you dry? I'm not sure, but they do keep you warm while hiking. I love the pit-zips in the jacket. I wear it a lot as a windbreaker or warm layer in the cold New England mornings. The pit-zips make for great ventilation as you warm up but before you are ready to remove a layer. The Precip rain gear is relatively durable, but after time the white inner layer will peel away. They still make for good windbreakers. I'm still using my Precip pants six years later.

Sportif fleece jacket
I named mine Sassy Pink and I still wear it all the time. These days it is probably considered heavy, but in 2003 the micro fleece material was pretty cool.

Patagonia Capilene bra
I liked the support of this bra, but the thing was always wet. The Appalachian Trial is very humid and can be very rainy, so I would recommend finding a thin bra that will dry faster than this one. Patagonia says it is quick-drying, but I think they mean it dries quickly overnight in a dry and air-conditioned room. Trust me, this one won't dry overnight in the humid mountain air. Even if it does, it will be covered in dew in the morning. I recommend the Isis Daisy bra.

Undies
I carried multiple pairs of synthetic black undies.

rag wool Polyclava
Can't remember who makes this. Sadly, I shrank mine in the dryer. But it was amazing while it lasted. It was a rag wool beanie that unfolded into a balaclava. This was just something I had in my closet. The balaclava was great for spring and fall.

EMS fleece gloves
I picked these up in Manchester Center, VT. It really began to get cold in Vermont!

Footwear
Asolo TPS 520 GTX boots
Beautiful leather boots. These fit my feet very well. I recommend trying on lots of brands and sizes of leather boots if that's the way you want to go. I loved these heavy clunkers. They kept my feet dry and clean and well protected. The AT is very rocky, and these kept me from stubbing my toes all day long. The AT also has many bare rock surfaces where the Vibram soles served me well, especially in the rain. I now hike in trail runners, but still love boots. My best advice for breaking in leather boots is to wear them around the house for 60 hours while cooking, reading, and watching TV before logging 60 hours of walking in the boots. After those two break-in periods, put on your pack and log another 60 hours. Tedious, but good for training and well worth it.

Socks
I used the heaviest weight Smartwool socks with white Wigwam polypro liners. I had another pair of dry socks for sleeping.

Mountain Hardwear Nut Shell Ventigaiters
I think the zipper is overkill and the mesh allows dirt and debris to get inside the gaiter. However, this is what I had, so I kept using them. I love tall gaiters for their protection against the sun, muddy trail, and poison ivy. I looked pretty cute in them, too. I recommend gaiters no matter what height for good foot care. They prevent debris from working its way into your socks and causing blisters and the general breakdown of the sock. Of course, this isn't the case with trail runners, but it does keep irritating debris away from your ankles.

Shelter
Sierra Designs Clip Light something or other 2 person tent, heavy
This used to be the classic AT tent. It is too heavy, and doesn't have enough ventilation or headroom. On the AT you can probably get away with a small tarp, because most nights you will probably use shelters. You do need an option when the shelter is full-- I know they say the shelter isn't full until everyone is inside, but I have been one of 20 in an eight person shelter and I'm not sure we could have fit anyone else. Also, having a shelter means that you have the option of camping between shelters to suit your mileage. Dew and condensation are two things to consider, especially with single wall tarps and tents.

Tyvek ground sheet
You will want a ground sheet for the very wet AT. You will at some point sleep in a puddle.

Sleeping
old North Face Blue Kazoo 20 degree down sleeping bag
A bit heavy, but awesome. I owned it before I thought of hiking the AT, so I went with it.

REI Travel Down 40 degree down sleeping bag
Compact and very light. Perfect for those hot, sticky AT summer nights. I had mine sent to Pearisburg, VA.

old school Ridge Rest
I've had mine since about 1992, and it still works great. It has a few wounds and may not be the lightest, but it remains comfy and uncompressed.

Cooking
Etowah Outfitters alcohol stove
A nice little alcohol stove with cross-bar pot stand. I do love my MSR Whisperlite, but this alcohol stove weighs so much less. I primarily used Heet in the yellow bottle, but I'm sure these days you can buy denatured alcohol by the ounce at hostels and outfitters.

MSR titanium Teapot. 4oz
Perfect for one Lipton, one package of ramen, or one box of Near East couscous, and cute as can be. It holds about .8 liters.

Lexan spoon, .5 oz
Regular plastic spoons are lighter, but will melt if used while cooking.

Water and Treatment
Platypus bladders and hose
These work great. The Platypus will develop weak spots around the neck due to the crumpling of the bladder as water is sucked out of it, but only over time. I try to be gentle with mine. I keep them at the top of my pack to reduce pressure and stress. You will only need a capacity of two liters for the AT, and rarely will you need to carry this much. Aqua Fina one liter bottles with a wide mouth are strong and cheap. You can put these bottles in the side pocket of your pack and insert the Platy hose if you like to use a hose.

Aqua Mira liquid solution water treatment
This was new and exciting in 2003. I still like this water treatment option. It has a slightly sweet taste that I don't mind at all. I started the AT with a Katahdyn Hiker pump filter, which I like and use for weekends, but it was a bit heavy for the AT. At some point I also used a Visine dropper full of bleach. I used three drops for two liters. It smells like a swimming pool. I'm not sure whether this is better or worse than iodine or Aqua Mira in the long term, but it is the cheapest option. You can buy a bottle of bleach for a few dollars, refill your dropper, and leave the bottle in the hiker box for someone else. Keep the dropper of bleach inside an plastic bag to avoid any leaks which will eat all of your synthetic gear.

Other
Leki ultralight titanium trekking poles from 2002
I'm not sure my knees would have made it through the AT without poles. These were indispensable for going down hill as they allowed me to shift some of my weight to my arms and shoulders and go easier on my knees on steep descents and long steps down big rocks. I preferred Reason's Super Makalus to my lightweight ones, however, because I think the shocks are beefier and kinder to the arms. Poles are great for what I call the Power Boost, which just means pushing yourself forward with the poles on the flats and ascents. After a few hundred miles of using poles, you'll be rolling up your sleeves and showing off your muscles. I've put almost 5,000 miles on my poles and so far have only replaced the tips a few times.

Wingfoot Guidebook
OK, so I started with the data book, state guides and maps, and the ATC town guide. But Reason had the Wingfoot guide, which gets to the point and has most of the info you'll need. You're not going to get lost unless you drink too much beer and forget which way you came in to a shelter, so you don't really need the maps and long state guidebook trail descriptions. The profile maps are nice, but chances are someone else will carry them for you :)

Check out my PCT and CDT gear lists for more ideas.