So about a week ago, we ran a promotion auctioning off the last page of my upcoming book, Appalachian Trials.  The highest bidder won the right to input their name on the last page of the book.

With a high bid of $203.50, Ryan Mogan is our winner! 

Not only does Ryan Mogan now own the last page of Appalachian Trials, but 100% of his winning bid is going straight to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (the fine workers and volunteers who maintain the Appalachian Trail).

And not only is Ryan Mogan now the most famous person in the history of last pages, but his altruistic deed factually makes him a good person.  That’s a hell of a deal if you ask me.

In all sincerity, a HUGE thank you to Ryan Mogan for your very generous bid.  You rock.

(Side note: As of today, February 2, 2012, Appalachian Trials has a cover.)

The below e-mail should say: “thank you Ryan Mogan“.

Hi team,

So, Appalachian Trials, is finished (official launch coming soon).

Well, almost…

I have every page written, except for the last.

That’s where YOUR NAME goes.  Only your name.

Yes, I’m serious.  No, I’m not drunk.

Imagine flipping through the final pages of this soon-to-be-released Appalachian Trail super-book, and the last thing you see – the reader’s final impression – is your name.  That’s what’s happening.

I’m going to auction off the last page of my book on eBay.  The highest bidder wins their name, and their name only, on the last page of the soon-to-be-announced-release-of-Zach-Davis’-first-book-Appalachian Trials.  It’s easy as that.  I will start the auction at $0.05 with no reserve.

100% of the proceeds will go to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (eBay takes their cut because they’re capitalists*)

* – “9.0% of the item’s total cost to buyer with a maximum charge of $100.00.” (Every penny that eBay doesn’t take from Zach will go straight to the ATC).

Here’s how you can get YOUR NAME on the last page of Appalachian Trials:

1. Go to this link to view the auction page
2. Bid to get your name in the last page of Appalachian Trials
3. The auction will end on January 31st, 2012 at 10:00 AM CST.  When it does, the high bidder wins their name in the last page of my book (sorry for sounding like a broken record).
4. That’s it.

Some notes about the promotion:

• As you know by now, I get a good chuckle out of potty humor, but I won’t put a dirty word on the last page of the book.  Sorry, I don’t believe that your name is “Farty McBallSlap“.
• Appalachian Trials will be released both as a print and e-book.  Your name goes in both.  One name, two formats.
• I have contacted the ATC about this promotion (still waiting to hear back).  Those who know me already know that I wouldn’t ever try to pull a Bernie Madeoff on anyone.  For those who don’t know me, know that at the conclusion of this promotion, the ATC will be expecting a check from me.  If I would try to pull a fast one, they would very quickly make this public and then Zach would be forced to live under a bridge for the rest of time.

Reasons Why This Promotion is Worth Your Bid

1. I had to write 40,000 words to get my name in it.  You can accomplish the same thing with ~39,998 fewer words.  That’s a good deal.
2. High upside.  I’m pretty confident that we’ve got a winner on our hands here (really).  Getting your name in a book that could potentially be popular within this very beautiful niche, is an exciting proposition.
3. It’s ridiculous.  Your name would stand alone on the last page of Appalachian Trials.  I haven’t taken the time to research if this has ever been done before, but considering most books go through traditional publishers, and traditional is Latin for boring, I’m guessing not.  (Side note: Appalachian Trials is currently scheduled to be released under Good Badger Publishing (aka self-published).  If in the future a traditional publisher wants to give me a cruise ship full of cash for the rights, I won’t let the last page with your name on it fall by the wayside.  It’s there for the long haul.)
4. It’s funny.  Is it not?
5. It’s for a good cause.  Did I mention that 100% of the proceeds goes toward the ATC (the wonderful volunteers and workers who maintain our beautiful 2,181 mile path of wonder, mystery and love)?
6. Good Advertising.  I will announce the winner of this contest on this website.  Ultimately when someone reads the book and searches “Appalachian Trials + [your name]” the post announcing your victory will be what shows up in Google.  They will see that your donation went to the ATC.  In addition, I will let the winner write a short statement and link to the website/cause of their choice.  That’s right.  In-book advertising.  What is that worth to you/your company?  (*Note*  No URLs in the book itself, only in the victorious post, which will still be seen by a lot of people.  Also, I’ve had people ask if they can pool their money together and then make a fake name- YES.  I love the creativity.  Just no potty words, offensive phrases, or competing products.)

So, go check out the eBay bid, throw a couple dollars at the idea of your name being on the book, share the promotion with others (like this page, retweet it, e-mail friends, shout it at strangers) so we can help raise more money for this worthy organization.  And then probably consider checking out Appalachian Trials.

Last note- I will announce the winner on this site and the Good Badger Facebook Page.  I suggest “liking” it so I can let you know when you win YOUR NAME on the last page of Appalachian Trials.

Questions? E-mail me at theGoodBadger[at]gmail[dot]com.

Here is the link to the auction page.

Holy Moldy Mayo, Batman!

2011 has been a monumental year for Mr. Zach Davis; this is a simple fact.

It all started with a post. 

January 2011

I was suffering from a fairly severe case of life dissatisfaction.  As is a common scenario amongst the employed population, I was at odds with my boss.  So- I did what any over-worked, under-appreciated, and slightly over-confident employee does to their boss- tells them to shove it.  Unfortunately, in this particular scenario, I was the boss.

So, in search of some life answers, I decided to shake shit up a bit.  Me, the class clown, computer nerd, sheltered son to a highly over-protective Jewish mother announced that he would be spending the next half year backpacking through the woods of Appalachia.  Not knowing the first thing about backpacking, camping, or really anything related to being outside for longer than 9 innings, I was eager to take on the biggest challenge of my life.  And by eager, I of course mean anxious as fuck.

One of two things was going to happen:

1) I was going to find the life answers I was so desperately in search of, or

2) I was going to end up in a bear’s digestive tract.

December 2011

I am happy to report that not only did I avoid #2, I made decent progress down route #1.

And because so many of you have spent so much time with me during this journey, I’d like to share some of the insights that have found me along the way.

1) Don’t Stress the Future

Pre-Appalachian Trail Zach lived in the future.  The soundtrack of my thoughts was an ongoing stream of worrying about what needed to get done.  I was a prisoner of my own mind.  There was no rest.  My impending dissatisfaction was a long-time coming.

Upon my entering the trail, so too did this mindset.  Every day involved a comparison of the mileage needed to complete the trail by our projected date versus actual distance covered.  If we did 14 miles on a day we were scheduled for 16, the following day called for an equal overcompensation.

And then the woods sunk in.

It’s common for Appalachian Trail thru-hikers to enter into a state of mindlessness.  Some refer to this as flow.  As days start to blend into one another, the concept of time begins to dissipate.  The sun replaces the digital numbers on your wrist, the sprawl of trees replaces the barrage of information, and space replaces stress.  You transition into a meditative state where the past and future lose their stranglehold on you – presence emerges.

Without having memories to cherish or goals to strive toward, pre-AT Zach would have denounced this concept of life as void of meaning.

I now believe the opposite to be the case.  Goals give us a direction.  Memories form the emotional context for our lives.  But, life exists in neither.  Life exists in the gaps.  Life exists in attention.  Life exists in the details.

This doesn’t mean that goals aren’t important.  They are.  Ultimately- through presence, we devise goals better aligned to our true and unique purpose.

The important takeaway, however, is to not get caught up in the chase.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail isn’t about arriving at Mt. Katadhin.  Hiking the Appalachian Trail is about each of the five million steps along the way.

Life isn’t about achieving a certain income, “making it” to retirement, or buying a certain house.  Like the AT, life is about each step along the way. 

Don’t take a single moment for granted and live every day as if it were your last.

2)  Capability is a Mindset

I have been an advocate of this philosophy for quite some time.  There was only one problem, I wasn’t living it, at least not to the extent that I wanted.

The “you can do anything” mentality was my personal Santa Claus: I wanted to believe in it, but was afraid to dig beneath the surface in fear of discovering a disturbing reality.

I can now say with both experience and conviction that mindset determines capability.

On paper, there was no-one more ill-equipped to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail than me.  I was surely destined to join the 80% of attempting hikers that ultimately fall short of their goal.

But- what I lacked in know-how and experience, I made up for with obsessive mental preparation.  I put great effort into installing the proper software in my head to assure myself why I was hiking.  This was huge.

When the trail becomes difficult, as it does for any attempting thru-hiker, having purpose is what separates those who throw in the towel from those who persevere.  Too many hikers dedicate their pre-trail efforts to the wrong practices.  Spending countless hours constructing an elaborate re-supply schedule may feel productive, but it will do little to keep you on the trail.  Dedicating weeks on the stair-stepper leading up to the trail will make the early transition easier, but again, will do nothing to keep your spirits high when shit hits the fan.

Simply having a clear and compelling answer as to why you are hiking is by far and away the most important way an aspiring thru-hiker can prepare themselves for the Appalachian Trail.  With the proper mindset, we are capable of anything.

Today, I’m leveraging this mentality to accomplish another life-long goal: write a book.

For the longest time, I’ve had the idea of writing a book.  For various reasons, I kept talking myself out of it.  “People won’t read it and if they do, they won’t like it.”… “I’ll do it next year.” … “I just don’t have enough time.”

Sound familiar?

The critic’s voice will always live in our heads- it still lives in mine.  But now I have a new yardstick in my repertoire.  “Fuck- if I could hike the AT, writing a book is child’s play.”  Note: writing a book is mentally distressing, but in comparison to thru-hiking the AT, it is child’s play.

As I put the finishing touches on Appalachian Trials, I am left seeking my next Appalachian Trail.  Accomplishment is crack; I’m feening.

So for 2012, ask yourself what it is that you want to accomplish.  Instead of letting the critic talk you into another year of compromise, take the leap of faith.  You’ll be eternally grateful you did.  I promise.

3)  A renewed faith in humanity

This is a lesson I learned directly from you, the reader, the trail angel, and fellow thru-hiker.

Before the AT, I was a cynic of human nature.  I saw people as a collection of self-serving robots programmed to consume as much as possible before the end of their days.  Albeit dismal, it was my truth.

I attribute much of this perception to the business school culture.  In talking to fellow classmates, I often got the feeling that they were calculating to see what was in it for them.  If I didn’t present a route for furthering their career, they instantly checked out of the conversation.  In looking back, there was truth to this, but I don’t blame the individuals.  It’s a cultural issue.

Going into the AT, I had heard much of trail culture, but didn’t really know what to make of it.  Was the all hoopla mindless hippie propaganda?

During my 2,181 mile trek, I saw a new side of human nature. 

I saw the fellow hiker who was willing to share the rest of his food with a hungry hiker, even if that meant he didn’t know where his next two meals were coming from.

I saw the trail angel, who was willing to backtrack 45 minutes out of his way the night before a red-eye flight to ensure a trio of hungry, exhausted, and desperate hikers saw safety, and more importantly, a restaurant.

I saw you, the reader, send me, essentially a stranger, food, drink, and money simply because you wanted to put a smile on someone’s face.  By the way, you did, you totally did.

I saw countless strangers happily inviting haggard, filth-covered, and border-line serial-killer-esque hikers into their vehicles just because they looked as if they needed a helping hand.

I received more well-wishes via e-mail, Facebook message, and blog comments than I can even recount.

I saw a culture whereby a stranger’s well-being was every bit, if not more important than their own.  For the first time in my life, I had seen selflessness take precedence over selfishness.

In reality, there is no absolute truth.  There are selfless trail angels; there are greed stricken businessmen.  But my default position has shifted.  Perception is what forms our objective reality.  In looking for the bad in people, that’s what you will get.  The same is said for the good-natured side of people.  After the abundance of care I’ve received during the last 9 months, I simply cannot hold onto my prior views of people.  You have converted me- and I must say, I much prefer the lenses of these glasses. 

Thank you, truly.

and happy holidays*

*I’m legally required to say this

Deer Ticks are assholes.

I went into the Appalachian Trail with my share of premonitions. Most, turned out to be false.

The crazy hillbillies in the southern part of the trail, just turned out to be crazy nice.  Even if you can’t make out what they’re saying, it’s perfectly clear all they want to do is help.

That black bear that was going to leap out of tree for the sole purpose of eating my face- also turned out to be incorrect.  Black bears are big raccoons; they’re on a mission from God only to dig through trash.  They don’t seem to realize, or at the very least care about, their strength.  Watching a 300lb black bear scamper up a tree because it sees a 130lb female backpacker in the distance is one of life’s great mysteries.

My biggest fear going into the trail, however, turned out to be justified- Deer Ticks.  More specifically, the disease these micro-satans spread, Lyme Disease.

About Lyme Disease

Lyme Disease, caused by the bacterium Borrelia burgdorferi, is the most common vector-borne disease in the United States and is transmitted through the bite of one of the aforementioned micro-satans.  Symptoms include fever, headache, stiff joints, fatigue, depression, and the common “bulls-eye” rash. If left untreated, symptoms can increase in severity including permanent damage to joints, heart, and central nervous system, and eventually death.

Here’s why Lyme Disease is a big risk to Appalachian Trail thru-hikers- these early stage symptoms, minus depression, are also common symptoms of long distance backpacking.  If a hiker assumed they had Lyme Disease every time they experienced stiff joints or fatigue, they would be hypochondriacs.   Even the common bulls-eye rash, as it turns out, is not always the case.  An infected tick bite can result in a variety of different rash patterns, including no rash at all.  In other words, the only symptom of Lyme Disease that deviates from the normal side effects of backpacking isn’t even all that reliable. 

Yeah…..fuck is right.

Deer ticks can range in size from a “fleck of black pepper” (in the nymph stage) to roughly half the circumference of a dime (adult asshole).  If removed quickly (usually less than 24-48 hours), there is little risk of the disease being transmitted.  Finding a brownish half dime on your skin shouldn’t be all that challenging.  Here’s the problem- people are far more likely to contract the disease from the nymphs.  That’s right, the fleck of black pepper is the more dangerous of the two.  Furthermore, these bastards are programmed to find the dark, moist parts of your body- the difficult to check regions.  Pardon my bluntness- but examining your taint after a 20+ mile strenuous hike is as un-fun as it is uncomfortable as it is disgusting.

In just the narrow observation of my thru-hike, I heard of at least eight cases of people getting off the trail due to Lyme Disease.  Two people that I spent a significant time hiking with, Road Dog and Wildcat, didn’t find out that they contracted the disease until after getting off the trail (one is now symptom free, the other is still battling nerve damage, headaches, and blurred vision).  I can only imagine how many hikers received this bad news upon returning home (I was dealt a sweet dish of West Nile Virus instead).

The Data

The quantitative analysis backs up my qualitative claims.  In 2009, there were 29,959 reported cases of Lyme Disease (420,000 when including the estimated unreported cases as well).  That’s up 69% from 2000.  And to remove any sense of reassurance for the future, 2012 is projected to “the worst year for Lyme disease risk ever.”

Granted, these numbers are national figures.  You’re likely wondering, “How does this pertain to the Appalachian Trail?”

Not that you need it, but here’s a map of the Appalachian Trail:

You will be walking here

Now let’s look at a map of the reported cases of Lyme Disease (source: hvceo.org):

They will be living here

You’d think the trail was designed by deer ticks themselves.

———————————

The purpose of this post is not to dissuade you from hiking the Appalachian Trail.  All things considered the AT is still an education in living life the right way.  I just want you to be cognizant of the risks.  Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is Lyme Disease.  Lyme Disease can be a miserable bitch.  Knowledge is prevention.  Opt for knowledge.

Precautions

Before reaching the northern half of Virginia, get some Permethrin (a tick repellent for your clothes), which stays active even after a few washes (and up to six weeks).  Get a few bottles and have it sent every 4-5 weeks upon reaching the deer-tick heavy regions.  These containers are typically too big to carry, so spray the shit out of your clothes and then pass onto other thru-hikers.  You’re saving their life.  Be sure to remind them this when mom sends them cookies.

Wear pants and long-sleeves. This is more of a do as I say, not as I do sort of thing.  I wore pants while hiking for a total of 14 minutes in five months.  I’m a super sweaty bastard so pants in the Pennsylvania summer would have made as much sense as shorts in Antarctica.  Either way it’s up to you, but keep in mind that ticks can only suck what they can grab onto, and they’re not going to grab onto pants soaked in Permethrin.

DEET.  Sure DEET has been shown to cause neurotoxicity, kidney and liver problems, and birth defects, but damn is it good at keeping bugs away.  Of course, I am being facetious.  I used DEET a lot on the trail, and I can say that it does do a good job of making you less attractive to insects.  It also does a good job of making you feel like hot garbage.  The times where I applied multiple rounds of DEET in a day, or used it a few days in a row, I would always start to feel uneasy- slightly nauseous, a headache, and occasionally dizzy.  My DEET recommendation: use it sparingly.  If you are going to follow the above advice and wear pants/long-sleeves, apply DEET only on the days where you need a shorts/t-shirt reprieve.

Check yourself everyday: Because a tick has to be attached for 36 hours before the bacteria starts to spread into your blood stream, the single greatest precaution you can take against contracting Lyme Disease is to meticulously check yourself every day.  I know I already eluded to this being a pain in the ass.  It is.  But you know what’s even more of a pain in the ass?  Permanent nerve damage.

If you’re interested in furthering your Lyme Disease paranoia, the below documentary, Under Our Skin, will accomplish exactly that.  In all sincerity, I highly recommend this documentary.  Watch it.  Today.

Look for a Badger Book update coming soon (I’m making progress, I promise).  Be safe my love muffins.

I recently received the following e-mail:

Not only is this a fair point, but I’m guessing some of you have had this same question.   I feel as though this is an issue worth examining because as technology improves, becomes more mobile, more affordable, and universally accessible, it will only become more prominent on the trail, and thus a more polarizing topic.

The Complainant’s Case

The Appalachian Trail is a unique experience.  The physical challenge associated with a half year’s worth of hiking is unlike anything most humans would ever fathom.  But even more unique than the physical test of walking the length of the United States oldest mountain range, is the lifestyle that accompanies it.

In becoming a thru-hiker, you are taking an oath to a new way of living.  Gone are the days of pooping in toilets.  Gone are the days of pulling yesterday’s food from fridge and nuking it in the microwave.  Gone are the days of a big warm bed.  And so too are the days of your techno habits.

We currently live in a world where we’re surrounded by screens.  At work it’s our computer.  At home it’s the television.  In the car, it’s our smart phones.  Tablets are now slowly making their way into the spaces in between.  Often times, we’ve got more than one of these screens occupying some fraction of our short attention spans simultaneously.  “What’s new in the news. Has anyone commented on my Facebook status. Oh yeah I have to send lizzy that video of 8 cats in a sink.” With an ocean of information and entertainment available at our fingertips at all times, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the urge to consume.

The AT offers an opportunity for reprieve from the insanity.  The woods are a sacred place.  Silent observation breeds a level of serenity that cannot be found on Twitter.  If you can’t unplug in the company a baby black bear scampering up a tree, a moose drinking from a stream before sunset, or at the top of a breathtaking summit view, you aren’t only addicted to technology, you’re an extension of it.  Although the woods are far from a private club, there is an unspoken etiquette that if you’re going to be in the woods, be in the woods.

The Defendant’s Case

Let us begin by giving a proper definition of technology.

Technology - the making, usage, and knowledge of tools, machines, techniques, crafts, systems, or methods of organization in order to solve a problem or perform a specific function.

Keeping this in mind, all thru-hikers (ab)use technology.  Every year technology gets better at it’s intended purpose: solving problems.  This not only applies to iPods, cameras, Kindles, etc., this applies to every piece of gear a backpacker uses.  Today’s backpacker can carry three days worth of food with two liters of water and only be shouldering only 15 lbs on their back.  Just 20  years ago this idea was incomprehensible.  Gear gets more waterproof, more bug repellent, more durable, more breathable, etc.  Someone who hiked the trail in 1980 would take a look at a 2011 backpacker and think they were watching a science fiction.  People consume goo-packets for Christ’s sake.

Made from 100% Alien

The point is- technology serves a purpose.   There were those on the trail who would look down upon someone who carried a Kindle because they were relying on technology for entertainment.  This same individual would be carrying a tent that weighed less than two pounds in addition to the pair of books in their pack (an extra lb. over a kindle – a significant weight for a long-distance backpacker).  I didn’t see anyone building their tent out of twigs and mud in protest of technology.  The line seems to have been drawn somewhat arbitrarily.

But back to the original question, do I think that listening to music/audiobooks disconnected me from the trail at all?  Yes, when I wanted to be disconnected.  Let’s face it, thru-hiking the AT isn’t your average walk in the woods (no offense, Bryson).  There are parts of the trail which are dull.  There are parts of the trail which are redundant.  Spending consecutive hours walking through such terrain can quickly put a hiker inside their own head.  In moderation this can be beneficial.  Too much of it, and psychosis will result.  Some drank alcohol, some smoked pot, some drank coffee.  I opted for audiobooks.  I was every bit as disconnected as the person riding the caffeine buzz up the mountain.

Similarly, there were times where I’d opt for music when the scenery was neither dull or repetitive.  For me, music is art.  Listening to The Tallest Man on Earth didn’t take me away from my environment.  In my opinion, it merely enhanced it.  Enjoying the beautiful scenery around me while enjoying the audible wonder of my favorite albums is my favorite combination of drugs.

But the point is fair, one of my main purposes for going into trail was to disconnect.  I made conscious effort to do exactly this.  A lot of the books I was listening to were spiritual readings and/or meditative practices, which I practiced on a daily basis.

Could I have done a better job of refraining from technology on the trail?  Absolutely.  I remember standing atop of the mountain running around like a madman trying to get enough Edge Network to see if Google had e-mailed me back.  That said, my goal was to finish.  A strong mindset help me do that.  Eckhart Tolle helped me obtain this mindset.  My iPhone obtained Eckhart Tolle.  My iPhone helped me finish.

But the correct answer to the question of “should technology be used on the Appalachian Trail” is:

Hike Your Own Hike

The only debate about whether technology should be used on the AT is: “should I use technology on the AT?”.   Any other question is extraneous.  Unless someone is carrying a boombox on their shoulder, blasting the latest Gaga jam, then their use of technology has no effect on your hike (because the involuntary dancing would slow you down).

No two hikers are going to walk 2,181 miles in exactly the same way.  Why?  Because it’s tough as shit, you have to cater to your own needs.  I didn’t blame those who went from town to town treating themselves to hotels and steak dinners.  I didn’t blame those who spent 85% of their hike high out of their gourd.  That’s what helped them finish.  And if they finished, they should be proud of it.

The only universality amongst all thru-hikers, which I think we can all agree on, is the need to read the upcoming Badger Book.

[Editors note: Although this post is geared toward those who plan on hiking the AT or who have recently finished, the truth is, this information is applicable to anyone looking to lose a couple of pounds. This is sound nutritional advice from someone who knows what they are talking about (clearly not a reference to myself).]

Remember the advice we got from Appalachian Trail legend, Miss Janet? Well in that post, we tackled the 2nd issue she brought up: Post-Appalachian Trail Depression (which I’ll be covering in more depth in the upcoming Badger Book).

Today, it’s time to confront the other:

How do thru-hikers avoid gaining weight after the Appalachian Trail?

An active person, by today’s standards, gets maybe 60 minutes of exercise per day. In having to balance a job that consumes 50-60 hours of your week, even that seems like a lot. On the AT, exercise is your job. A thru-hiker will bust their ass up and down mountains carrying their life on their back for anywhere from 7 to 12 hours a day. During this process, this individual will consume an unfathomable amount of food- the kind of food invented solely to make people obese. While stuffing their face-hole full of chocolate bars, ramen noodles, pop-tarts, cheese, beef, and Little Debbies on the trail, and pretty much anything with a calorie value in the quadruple digits off the trail, a thru-hiker will soon get a better view of their own skeletal structure. Losing anywhere from 10-30 lbs. is pretty typical. I talked to one guy who had lost 50 lbs. a little more than half way through the trail. He told me this while devouring a king-size snickers.

I talked to a lot of people who were on the trail largely to lose the unwanted pounds they had put on over the years. A noble endeavor, no doubt.

Unfortunately, for most, this weight is put on five times faster than it was lost after finishing the trail. For some, they end up gaining even more weight than they originally lost. If someone has the drive to get up and work their ass off for a half year (figuratively + literally), why is that they put the weight on so quickly? There has to be a dietary approach for someone to keep this weight off in their post-AT life.

Personally, I find this phenomenon to be a bit perplexing. Although I consider myself to be fairly well-schooled in terms of nutrition and exercise theory, I kept coming up with new hypotheses as to why this rapid weight gain would happen.

“Maybe it’s the set-point theory? But then if this theory is true, how can some people lose weight and keep it off? It happens all the time.”

“Maybe it’s a hiker’s metabolism slowing down? But then again, no one eats the way they do on the trail once they get off. I haven’t had a chocolate bar in two months, nor have I even craved one. I’m assuming most also cringe at the sight or thought of a Milky Way. If a hiker’s metabolism slows down, wouldn’t their diet adjust accordingly?”

“Maybe it’s….well, this is all speculation. Perhaps I should ask someone smarter than me.”

So I did.

I reached out to Dr. Nathan Daley, MD, MPH. Dr. Daley practices integrative preventive medicine and performance medicine at the Leonardi Institute in Colorado.

I asked Dr. Daley the following questions:

• Is the weight gain merely an unavoidable consequence of going from hiking 16-24 miles a day to exercising only a few hours per week?
• Is Set Point Theory the logical explanation?
• Are people gaining weight because of their post trail diet, or does it lie more in their exercise habits?
• For most, after finishing the trail, there’s a one to two week period where they’re still battling muscle soreness and fatigue. In other words, the idea of exercise may seem less than appealing. How does one work around this?
• What should a hiker’s post-trail diet look like? Are there any supplements a hiker should take?

Dr. Daley’s answer blew me away. It’s way more thorough than I was anticipating. Not only does it provide information on how to eat once a hiker gets off the trail, it offers advice about foods to favor on the trail to avoid gaining weight afterward.

Dr. Daley’s Advice On How to Avoid Post-Appalachian Trail Weight Gain

(This content now lives in Appalachian Trials.  Not because I wanted to take it away from you, but because I didn’t want someone who paid $12.99 for a book to feel cheated.  I hope you understand.  Although I would like for nothing more than to give you all of my work for free, I also enjoy eating dinner and drinking beer, which requires that evil slut we call “money”.)

…or will it?

Become part of the Badger Book e-mail brigade to stay ahead of the curve and get these videos first.

Jack.

Last weekend I was reunited with one of my closest friends, Zach Davis (aka “Badger” to his trail-mates, “Good Badger” to his readers and “Undeliverable Address” to child-support collectors), at our former education/inebriation grounds at the University of Wisconsin. Though excited for 48 hours of bad beer and worse decisions, I was also pensive.

I knew and loved the pre-trail Zach Davis; a perpetually witty, easy-going Chicago sports fanatic who preferred a coffee-shop and laptop to “wilderness”. This Zach was so ill-equipped for time in the woods that if you asked me to list his Top Skills Essential to Survival in Nature, “an affinity for bandanas” would have been #1. Despite this outdoorsy ineptitude, when Zach told me that he had decided to hike the A.T., I knew his determination and love of exploration meant inevitable success.

However these conversations, coupled with postings on his blog, were also unnerving. For 5+ months Zach would trade his Apple for the Appalachian, baristas for bears. He was embarking on a potentially transformative journey…did the beginning of Badger mean the end of Zach?

Would he emerge from the woods as a stereotype existing somewhere between Haight-Ashbury community organizer and Bill Maher fan club president?

Would our conversations about fantasy football be replaced with discussions about Jerry Garcia’s chord progressions?

Could he eat non-organic food?

I’d seen this happen before to high school friends who’d taken an internship in Teluride, Colorado, Bozeman, Montana and other environmental enclaves, returned home and despised any activity that didn’t involve “stompin pow” or “shreadin gnar”. Cynicism toward their prior norm seemed to be an unavoidable side-effect for those who went spelunking in the outer caverns of their comfort zone.

All these thoughts bounced through my head as I walked through the Wisconsin Union’s patented copper doors – was I going to be reunited with a friend or be introduced to someone entirely new?

As I turned down the hallway towards the terrace I saw Zach, clad in an unlicensed Michael Jordan T-shirt and sporting a beard that can only be described as neo-Gimli (is the A.T. on the road to Mordor?). After a hug and quick volley of wise-ass comments my apprehensions vanished – this was still the old Zach.

We continued to talk over pitchers of Spotted Cow, sharing the finer points of discretely defecating outdoors and I realized that while the Appalachian had shown Zach parts of himself and humanity he may have not known existed, these experiences didn’t change his essence. When presented with something monumental he embraces the wonderment of it, rather than exuding disdain towards the ordinary. This perspective is what differentiates his voice and his blog from the usual hiker’s fare.

Over the next two days I watched Zach field a menagerie of questions from individuals spanning the entire sobriety spectrum. Listening to responses to queries such as, “What did you miss most?”, “Did you get laid on the trail?” and “Can you rub your beard on my face?”, one thought kept circulating – I can’t wait for the book.

[editors note] Thanks again Jack, you rock. You can be first in line for it here.

In the first edition of Filling in the Gaps, you learned how Google took a big dump on my heart.

In this edition, you will learn how a mosquito took a big dump inside my head.

For those who have followed along closely with Badger’s journey up the Appalachian Trail, you already know that I battled some pretty debilitating health issues (as many thru-hikers do). In June, I went to the hospital just outside of Duncannon, PA. The doctor ran some blood tests. They all came back negative. She suggested that because the previous week had consistently been reaching into triple digit temperatures, I was suffering from dehydration. She told me to “drink more water and avoid hiking during the afternoon.” I did the first and ignored the second as intense fatigue had me sleeping 10 hours a day.

Three weeks later, not only were the headaches still persistent, they had gotten worse and my vision was starting to blur. Back to the hospital. This time, along with a series of blood tests, I had a CT scan as I was now concerned that perhaps I had a brain tumor. Thankfully, all tests again came back negative. This doctor was more adamant about my symptoms being related to dehydration. He told me to start consuming more sodium and to intake an electrolyte supplement as regularly as possible.

This time it worked.

For a while.

A month later and the headaches would return, albeit less frequently and intensely. Now it seemed that there was no rhyme or reason between my exertion  level, sodium and electrolyte intake, and the headaches. I told myself that somehow the headaches were related to something on the trail. Since they were better than what they were before and I was annoyed with making useless hospital trips, I would deal with the pain and hopefully they would subside once I got off the trail.

I finished the trail. The headaches didn’t go away. They became even more persistent.

What. The. Fuck.

A few weeks after finishing the trail, and I was battling headaches 80% of my waking hours. Luckily, I already had a physical scheduled (recommended for anyone who has just spent a half year in the woods), hopefully this doctor could tell me what was going on. After drawing a few bathtubs worth of blood (side note: needles tend to make Badger pass out), the doctor told me she would get in contact with me in a few business days and let me know the results.

Her assistant called me a week later.

Assistant: “So we got the results from your blood tests. Everything came back normal. Except for one thing. It looks like your blood shows a history of West Nile Virus. ”

[Awkward pause waiting for some further explanation]

Zach: “What?”

Assistant: “Yeah. The virus isn’t currently active in your bloodstream, but it was at one point. This is likely what’s causing your headaches.”

Zach: “Hmm. How long do the symptoms usually last?”

Assistant: “Oh boy, for some people a few days. For others, months….years.”

Zach: “Is there anything I can do to remedy this?”

Assistant: “It’s a virus. Unfortunately not.”

[Awkward pause waiting for some sort of silver lining]

Zach: “Ok. Thanks? Bye.”

A trip to the neurologist confirmed what the assistant had told me. There’s really nothing I can do except wait it out (however long that may be?). He prescribed some migraine pills. That was that.

Current update

As of this post, the last headache I’ve had was two weeks ago. This is the longest stint I’ve gone without a headache months. Coincidentally the last day I had a headache was during my second visit to the isolation tank. I don’t believe this is a coincidence. You can reach your own conclusions.

Side note: The onset of the WNV (or at least the symptoms) came literally within one week of my getting the bad news from Google. Injury was added to insult. I was still 1,000 miles away from my destination. Still at no point did I consider getting off the trail. This is my greatest source of pride in looking back at the AT.

For any aspiring thru-hikers reading this, I want to share my learning lessons and psychological tactics with you so you can look back with the same sense of pride and accomplishment after your thru-hike.