Day 26: Hitting the Thru Hiker Doldrums

• White Horse Inn off Appalachian Gap (164.8)
• 0 ft ascent, 0 ft descent
• Bonus Miles: 0.0

There is a point on any long hike when you have passed the exexcitement the first 100 miles and the last 100 miles is too far away to be real. Even with Zeros, cumulative exhaustion creeps in. Hiker Legs make it possible to go farther in a day or three, but the miles accumulate with excruciating slowness. We think it is part physical–thru hiking is demanding on the body. But, we also think it is part psychological. Our bodies have adapted to the calorie demands and very little is changing there. Our sleep habits have stabilized and we are accustomed to falling asleep at dark and waking up with the dawn. Packing the pack is no longer a wrestling match, things are trained to go where thery go. Food is predictable. There is very little discussion of how many liters of water to carry for the upcoming section. The ups are ups and the downs are down. All the excited communications from home die off as our families settle into believing we really are fine. Nothing much changes. We are becalmed in the middle of nowhere.

Where is Somewhere?

There is a little superstition associated with mentioning the terminus too soon in the hike. What if something happens? What if we never get close? Best not to mention it yet. We are two-thirds if the way, but that is still a long way to go.

The idea of the end point bubbles below the surface with more uneasiness than is comfortable. On a lot of big trails, crossing state lines provides a marker. Even that can fail,  to wit, the Virginia Blues and California’s NoCal Blues.

Right now, we are drifting in time and space. It is hard to know if that is unmoored or if it is living in the moment.

Exhaustion

On top of the geographic drift, we don’t seem to be building up fresh energy. We sleep well enough, carrying a backpack ten miles a day helps with that.

Someimes if the day was overly hard, the pain of going from upright to lying down can rob us of a few hours. But, since most hikers, especially on the shorter spring and fall days, have 10 hours of sack time wallowing around in pain for a couple of them still leaves sufficient time for sleep.

It is not sleep, per se, that makes us tired. It is the unrelenting activity of hiking. We stretch or tweek or over reach or slip and our muscles take on micro tears. This is not bad, when they heal, the muscles can be stronger for it. But, piling miles on day after day means there are some microtears healing at the same time as new ones are acccumulating. A single, or even double zero, is not enough to catch up.

Nutrition

Many hikers stress their bodies severely by having to resort to as steady diet of ultra processed foods. We are not criticising. We are lucky because we have the time and equipment to dehydrate our own nutrition. We are also blessed with the money to mail it and friends and family who will ship it for us.

As the scientific knowledge of the effects of cheap, shelf stable food expands, there is a growing realization of the nutritional holes it can leave. Hikers do their best, but the risks of undernutrition, even in the face of sufficient calories, stresses our bodies.

The most common result of bodily stress from under nutritioin is lowered energy. That makes hiking harder both physically and emotionally.

The Doldrums

Rock Rabbit has a friend on a team of sailors who reurned a racing yacht to South Africa after the Cape to Rio Race.

During the race, these tiny yachts fly over 3500 to 4000 miles of open ocean in two to four weeks. Once the race is complete, a small team of sailors return the yacht at a much slower pace. This trip, Rock Rabbit’s friend reported being stopped dead in the middle of the ocean with no wind for days.

They ate, swam, played cards, and tried not to panic wonderig when the wind would return. They had no other method of purpolsion that would safely send them on.

Our Doldrums

We tried to appreiate the extra zero and let our bodies rest. We did somewhat well at it. Rock Rabbit appeared to be doing a spetacular job until his day-rest translated into night insomnia.

I got a lot of blogs posted but it was not restful. The Historian restlessly decided to do more laundry.

Returning to the Trail

Our collective enthusiam to return to the trail is more habbit than joy at the moment. Early on, a zero or a zero/nero combo left us eager to return to the trail.

Today, we are well fed (again). Our bodies and clothes both are washed. Our treking poles have new tips. The Historian has new boots. Rock Rabbit  and The Historian’s boots are freshly sealed. My new shoes are ordered. We have stove fuel and all the other running-short supplies we could need.

Our shutle is scheduled for 7:30 am tomorrow and our watch alarms are set for 5:00 am.

We are restless. The doldrums have to be over. Tomorrow we start the first climb of ther alpine section of the Long Trail. We know it, like the trip across the open ocean in a tiny racing yaht, will be hard. Our anxiety about this next segment is rising. We have to find our center again and hike on but nothing in our spirits is becalmed.