The charred mark on the shelter floor or picnic table is an accident that happens sometimes with camp stoves (usually alcohol stoves). I caused one myself when I first started using alcohol stoves. This was right before I started working on a trail crew, and I happened to be camping with a prominent Long Trail volunteer, so I was wicked embarrassed. Poor form! I thought I could prevent further instances just by using my stove more carefully, which worked for the next three years.

While I was on the Pacific Crest Trail, though, I caught some pine needles beneath my stove on fire while cooking my dinner one night. Luckily, the flare up lasted only a second, and I was very close to a creek with abundant water for dousing the charred needles. But I learned right then that being careful wasn’t quite good enough.

I see the char marks on Appalachian Trail shelters all the time. Knowing how much work goes into keeping these shelters in good shape, I can’t stand to see them damaged by carelessness. So here’s a perfect solution to the alcohol stove char marks.

Aluminum foil.

Note the foil square below the stove. No technical expertise required.

An eight-inch square of foil lives inside my cook pot, right next to my stove. It weighs 3 grams (0.1 ounces) and completely blocks the residual heat from the stove from getting to the surface below. Since it stores in the pot, I’ve been using the same ratty square of foil for more than two years. I’ve used the stove on top of piles of dead leaves, in shelters, on picnic tables, wherever I feel like cooking. And there hasn’t been the slightest char mark below the stove since.

So here’s a PSA to all you gram weenies (like myself) who are using alcohol stoves: if you can spare a tenth of an ounce and one cent for some aluminum foil, your campsites will appreciate the extra caution. You’re welcome.

Not long ago, the majority of the outhouses near trail shelters were pit privies. This is the kind you most likely imagine when you think of an outhouse. A rotting wooden box, a seat, and a hole in the ground as deep as the builder could dig. Lots of big flies. A stench so strong, hardened hikers blanch in fear. Looking down when you lift the seat might cause nausea or temporary brain damage.

But that’s the old way. Practically every outhouse in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut and Massachusetts has been replaced with a nice, new moldering privy. Many other states, especially Vermont, have made huge progress in the human waste department as well. I learned a lot about this while working at the Green Mountain Club a few years back, since one of my coworkers was the guru of poo for most of the Appalachian Trail. It turns out, poop is a major issue for the AT, Long Trail, and most popular hiking trails.

There are more problems with pit privies than just smelling bad. A deep hole full of dung has no air flow, so the poo doesn’t rot. When the pit fills, the trail maintainers must dig a new hole, move the wooden privy to the new hole, and bury the old hole. This happens every five to ten years, depending on how much use the shelter gets. One trail maintainer told me that they had once accidentally dug where a privy had been previously, a hole that had been filled fifteen years earlier, and “it was as fresh as the day we’d buried it.” Yuck.

Moldering privies are the next step in backcountry waste management. When you see an outhouse on a sort of pedestal, with a semi-open space beneath for the pile to accumulate, you’re basically looking at a compost pile. There is no hole in the ground, and you are instructed to throw a handful of duff, wood shavings, leaves, or other similar material into the privy after you make your deposit (this is usually supplied in a bucket in the privy). Maintainers often throw in a can of worms at the beginning of the season to supplement the bacteria, native worms, and other creepy crawlies that live in the pile of poop. These critters eat the poo over time, and turn it into nice, clean compost.

I find moldering privies to be totally fascinating, and I’m very happy to see so many of them on the AT now. Moldering privies are considerably less disgusting than pits, since the worms and microbes make for speedy decomposition and remarkably little stink. The “flush” with duff, leaves, or wood shavings also helps to keep things looking less like raw sewage and more like a compost pile. In the end, you’re left with something that is more or less indistinguishable from rich soil. Considering that story I’d heard from the shelter maintainer about the fresh pit, I’m happy knowing there are fewer toxic pits out there near my favorite campsites, and a lot more friendly soil.

Looking at landscape maps of the Appalachian Trail, the middle states resemble a series of long lines, with their mountainous ridges stretching for miles. That’s what the trail traverses for quite some time– long ridges through northern Virginia and Pennsylvania. But just after passing through the valleys between New Jersey’s high point and the Sterling Forest, the landscape starts to show a lot more contours, peaks, and masses of mountains. The trail turns into piles of boulders, steep climbs, and rough granite slabs. It starts to look a lot more like New England.

Despite the new aches in my feet, there was a lot to love about New York. The AT goes within 40 miles of New York City, yet in most of Harriman Park the trail feels remarkably wild. I walked through miles of deep forest that seemed totally unspoiled, though they were deforested and mined in the 18th century. Between sections of tranquil forest, there were plenty of wild lakes and craggy mountain tops to heighten the sense of wilderness.

I spent the better part of one hiking day chatting with a hiker from The City, who hiked in many of the same places I frequented in college. We reminisced about the Shawangunks, the Catskills, Breakneck Ridge– just a few of the natural gems this state has to offer. I spent most of my time in college heading away from The City, but there are an amazing number of mountain trails within a short trip from NYC. I find myself waxing nostalgic about them sometimes. This hiker had hiked the Long Path a few years ago, which got me thinking of trying that again. I’d tried and failed the year after my first AT hike, and never had the urge again. Maybe that can get put back on the to-do list.

After leaving Harriman and crossing the Hudson River, I needed to relax a bit. The lack of leaves on the trees had led to even more nasty sunburns, and days of foot-pounding had taken more of a toll, so I could barely walk at the end of each day. I started scaling back the daily miles and taking more time to sit for lunch in nice places. I probably should have done that earlier, since Harriman is the best the AT in New York has to offer, but time in the woods is time in the woods. I’ll take it. The woods east of the Hudson were a little less pristine, but there are also fewer people on the trails.

My last day before walking out of New York was another brutally hot one, but at the end of the day I realized I’d seen only two people on the trail. There weren’t any long roadless stretches, but the forest and the few lakes were surprisingly quiet. That’s as much as I can hope for from a trail that is so close to the largest city in the country, and has the reputation of being overwhelmed with crowds. No crowds, and plenty of wildness here. Still, I’m looking forward to getting back to New England this weekend.

I was all ready to begin the hike on Friday morning, but with over an inch of rain in the forecast for the day, I didn’t mind one more day of rest. So on Saturday morning, I hit the trail at Delaware Water Gap, ready for just about anything. Except the beating my feet took. Apparently (as is so often the case) I wasn’t so tough as I’d thought.

The first fifty miles of New Jersey follow the ridge of the Kitatinny Mountains, which was amazingly gentle as far as the climbs, but tough on the feet. The rocks and ridges quickly ate up the bottoms of my feet. By the end of day two, my poor ankles and soles were very unhappy. Add to that some nasty sunburns because the leaves weren’t out to block the sun yet, and there was plenty of pain for a week on the trail.

But there was plenty of joy to go around, too. From day one, when I met “Oboe Hobo” (finishing his 2012 through hike) to later days meeting section hikers, there was no shortage of people who were just happy to be on the trail. That’s something that is often missed in the through-hiker crowd, when months of fatigue start to take their toll. The hikers I met this week were all so relaxed, so joyful. I camped for a few nights with two retirees from Georgia, doing their annual section hike, and it reminded me that the trail community isn’t just limited to the through-hikers. You can meet people on the trail and hike or camp with them for several days, and it gets to be like a traveling family.

Three days of pretty brutal heat were followed by a day of wet and dreary weather, just in time for the second part of the state. After dropping off the state’s high point, the AT hugs the New York border through farmland, low hills, and marshes. A few miles of this aggravated my sore feet, and I was ready to add a day off to the plan for the end of the week. No matter how many trips like this I go on, I always think I can do without a day off in the beginning, and I’m always wrong.

After a day and a half of lowlands walking, I had some more clear views and steep, rocky climbs at Wawayanda Mountain, where I was able to look back on several days worth of hiking. There was a fine view at Pinwheel Vista where I could see back to the New Jersey high point (easily visible from a distance because of the 200 foot obelisk on top), and as far north as the Shawangunks. The AT goes nowhere near the Gunks, but looking at them looming over the New York countryside brought back plenty of memories from college, and thoughts of another eventual backpacking trip. The Long Path runs up to those mountains, then beyond to the Catskills, another of my college haunts. I wonder when I’ll get back there.

Yesterday morning, I moved pretty slowly since my feet were beat up and aching, but I managed a full day of walking. I’m taking a day off at Greenwood Lake, staying with one of my friends from the Appalachian Mountain Club who helped me out back in 2007 when I hiked the AT at a much faster pace. I have to remind myself that I was a bit younger then, and I kept my pace below 15 miles per day for the first month on the trail. That may explain why my feet are getting so torn up on this trip. A little rest and relaxation should help with the healing, and I’m not even a little bit behind schedule yet.

One state down, three to go!

Get a train to the AT in New York!

By the end of the month I plan to hike through New Jersey, New York, Connecticut and Massachusetts on the AT. The timing is just right, since the hiking season further north is partially mud-season, partially shoulder-season (not the best time for hiking in the mountains of northern New England). I haven’t spent a night on the trail since October. The urge is getting harder to ignore.

It’s always nice to be able to use a 300-mile backpacking trip to fulfill multiple goals. The most obvious goal for now is to map out more of the AT for my apps, but now is also a good time for a hike even without the apps to motivate me. I’ve wanted to revisit the New York and New Jersey sections of the AT for years, since I was last on them six years ago. Plus, I like to go on a good early-season backpacking trip to remind myself how much summer conditioning my body has lost since last year, and to get back in the practice of backpacking.

I’ve got two new pieces of hiking equipment to test out, a few new techniques to try, and lots of places to explore. I’ll update the blog a couple times a week if I can, and send some posts to Facebook. See you on the trail!

Waterproof all over except for the backpack.

When hiking, you have a lot of gear that will get wet anyway, and eventually goes into your pack. Rain jacket, tent, cooking gear, a food bag that’s been hanging in a tree overnight as a bear-bag– some things just get wet and there’s not much you can do about it. If your equipment is wet, and you put it inside your pack, that ability of the pack to repel water is useless. The water gets inside one way or another.

Even if you keep all wet things outside the pack, there’s still the imperfect outer layer of the pack. The outside of the pack can protect your gear from abrasion on rocks or snagging branches, but most people will eventually put holes in their pack from some kind of encounter. What good is a waterproof pack when there’s a hole in it? Most packs come with lots of holes in them anyway, from the stitching necessary to sew the pack. Water will eventually get in there, too.

But when you look at all the equipment you carry, how much of it really needs to stay dry? For me, it’s only my spare clothes, my sleeping bag, my down jacket, my first-aid kit, journal, phone, toilet paper, and some food. My cook kit still works when wet. My tent is made to get wet. My sleeping pad doesn’t absorb enough water to make a serious problem, and most of my food is packaged tight enough that it can handle a rainy night or two in a bear bag.

Not everything in your pack needs to be waterproof, and the things that do need waterproofing can easily be stored in plastic bags, trash bags, or dry bags inside the pack. Being a backpacker in New England, I’ve learned time and again that staying dry is only a certainty if you stay indoors. But with some cautious packing (plus one trash compactor bag and one silnylon dry bag), I can keep my down equipment and electronics dry through days of pouring rain. Hiking on the PCT, the New England Trail, and countless weekend trips, I’ve had to, and it has worked fine.

So why bother with trying to make a completely waterproof pack?

The short version of the story is that Virginia through Pennsylvania will be ready in a few weeks. After that, New Jersey through Vermont should be ready by mid-May. Then, New Hampshire and Maine in the middle of July.

Building a list of waypoints and checking it twice.

Part 1: Georgia, North Carolina and Tennessee

My trail info for these sections of the Appalachian Trail guide comes from one of my business partners hiking that section of trail with a GPS last October. She recorded approximately 760 waypoints over 460 miles of trail, plus over a hundred side trails of varying lengths. For now, this section of the trail is done.

Finding what information I can from USGS topographic maps and NPS trail data.

Part 2: Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania

Since I don’t have firsthand trail info from hiking these sections with a GPS, I’m working on secondary trail info for them. I’ve spent the last few weeks poring over official Appalachian Trail GIS data from the ATC and National Park Service, pairing up the info with USGS topographic maps, satellite imagery, and other public information to come up with as much trail info as possible. These sections will have pretty complete waypoint sets for roads, shelters, mountains, rivers, power line crossings, and other things that can be seen from afar. There won’t be good information on unofficial campsites, small views on wooded peaks, or small water sources.

For about 800 miles of trail, I’ve come up with 530 waypoints– considerably less than the previous sections, but still lots of information. Because of the less dense trail data, these data sets will be offered at a discounted price until I update them further.

Finding roads, parking areas, and power lines with satellite imagery.

Part 3: New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont

In April, I’ll spend some time hiking the Appalachian Trail in these states to finish off what trail data I haven’t already gathered. That means they’ll be available within the app with full data (including many side trails and campsites) by the middle of May.

Part 4: New Hampshire and Maine

I’ll spend most of June hiking through New Hampshire and Maine to get similarly detailed trail information for the northernmost two states of the Appalachian Trail. Processing and formatting the data might take a few weeks once I’m done hiking, so I’m expecting those sections of the guide to be finished in mid-July. Good news for northbounders and section-hikers.

Check in often if you’re interested in the news here. And feel free to comment in the blog or contact me directly. If you’d like to help out, you can contact me through the FAQs page.

Snow coated Kinsman forest.

We started out from Kinsman Notch, a part of the White Mountains I hadn’t set foot in since 2007, immediately realizing how difficult the snowshoeing would be. Underneath about four inches of fluffy powder was a solid crust, hardened by warm weather over the past few days. The combination of fluff and crust meant that the claws on our snowshoes didn’t grip as well as they should have, and the irregularities in the surface of the crust were hidden, making for occasional slipping and tripping hazards.

Northwest from Mount Wolf. I’m more interested in the snowy trees, though.

Judging by the solidity of the underlying crust, no one had set foot on the Kinsman Ridge trail in quite some time. Breaking trail wasn’t so hard, since the crust was solid enough to float across, but the trail turned out to be pretty difficult to follow– there was enough of a snow base to completely hide the trail, obscure white blazes, and weigh tree branches low across the trail. We hurried up the first section of trail, but still made slow time as we lost the trail for precious minutes from time to time, and slogged through sections of thick, snow-laden branches.

Just below Mt Wolf summit, with a nice little window up to the peak.

By the time we stopped for lunch, not even at Mount Wolf, one third of the way through the day, we started to realize we wouldn’t make our intended fifteen miles. Still, the walking through fresh, snow-coated forest was beautiful enough to satisfy my wilderness craving. At times we would stop and hear the utter silence that is only possible in the winter woods when no other people are around for miles. Even without many open views from the ridge, I was happier to have just the deep forest around us and the sense of solitude.

A panorama to the east, from Flume slide to Loon ski resort.

The slog to Mount Wolf took four hours, effectively killing the plan for the Kinsman Traverse, but that was no problem. It’s been a while since we’ve had the forest to ourselves, which is rare enough in a popular place like the White Mountains. For an end-of-winter hike, it was a good way to get reacquainted with the silence of the woods.

A lot of new snow fell in the past few days, meaning I could keep my snowshoes out of storage a little longer if I’d like. I love winter, and this one has been much more fun than the last several for me, but I’m feeling ready for some three-season hiking. Good show, winter. Let’s move on.

To give a little background, the programming of the Android apps started just after Alice and Paul, my two partners in creating the PCT apps, finished their through-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail in 2012 (this was Paul’s third PCT through-hike, and Alice’s first). The iPhone programming started just after I finished my through-hike in 2010 (finishing with Paul), so the iPhone apps have a considerable head start on the Android ones. With that said, though, I think you’ll agree that the Android apps are going to catch up very quickly.

The app released yesterday is the guide for Mount Whitney, hiking via Whitney Portal. This is the 11 mile route that most hikers take to reach California’s highest point (and the highest peak in the contiguous United States). The app is chock full of beautiful photos, waypoints all up and down the trail, and useful information regarding regulations, permits, campsites, and more.

As I said, this is the first of many such apps. Next up, Alice and Paul will be finishing production of the Pacific Crest Trail and John Muir Trail apps for Android (while I work on updating the PCT iPhone apps and finishing the JMT one). After that, the Appalachian Trail will be coming soon, as well.

So check out the new apps and let Alice and Paul know how you like them. As with the iPhone apps, they are works in progress, so feedback and encouragement is always appreciated. Enjoy!