Kick ass and take names

In the maelstrom

A few weeks ago I ventured into posts on the AT community pages of Reddit and Facebook to talk about a test hike I did on an AT section here in CT. I’m working on a blog about it because I learned a lot. It should arrive soon. But anyway, regarding these platforms, in the words of the Pythons, “it’s a pretty silly place.” It seems that no matter what you post, how diplomatic and gracious your responses to comments are, the “conversation” becomes a cesspool of unwarranted criticism, dumb check-ins, and blatant self-indulgence. A lady scolded me harshly and repeatedly when she read about my approach to hydration. In any case, I’ll keep lurking, laughing, and learning what I can while I hone my filtering skills and center my thoughts on this blog.

But, from all the talk several themes emerge that seem to bring out many types of voices… in swarms: equipment, finances, logistics, food and route names. So let’s focus on the latter.

To me, adopting a trail name is one of the most notable traditions to be found on the AT. It may not be something as quirky or visceral as eating a half-gallon of ice cream in 30 minutes, or touching four states in 24 hours, or walking naked on the summer solstice. (I have done none of those things, by the way, but this time you can try the VA>PA ridiculousness).

An important thing

But the appointment is profound. Even solemn, perhaps. The appointment is significant. Literally. The names mean. Plato wrote about it and so did Ursula K. Le Guin. And Mitch Hedberg, I think.

But the trail names, in particular, are unique and have various angles. Here are a few I’ve thought about and would be interested in hearing from others:

You have a choice. Normally when you are given a name, someone else assigns it to you. Usually at birth and usually by your parents. You don’t have much to say about it because you usually don’t talk and yell. Trail names are given and you have agency over it. You can accept it or not.

Strengthen the “real” you. Sometimes a pathname can be a way to reinforce who you think you already are. You may perceive a strength, an advantage, or an advantage in yourself and focus your name on that. Maybe it’s a reflection of a small part of you that you’d like to see flourish, like “Fretboard” for the guy who has six strings and knows 4 strings, but wants to be Terry Kath or “Shredder,” the gym buddy (or TMNT fan). It could be career related, like «Sarge» for the military guy, «Numbers» for the CPA, «Standup» for the funny guy, «Legs» for the runner.

Anonymity at the service of reinvention (or simply concealment). A pathname can simply start a new and reinvented persona. In my limited experience, many people who come to the trail have, as part of their motivation, the desire to shed some aspect of their identity, if not all of it, and start working on something new. Maybe he’s a nerd and wants to try to be a cool kid. Better yet, maybe he’s a cool kid who just wants to lose popularity and epic fashion sense and become a soulful lonely drifter. A path name can help dissolve the old and designate the new. It’s a gift. Some of the most moving and heartbreaking stories I heard last time were from those who gave up some type of addictive behavior and used the trail to reboot. Some were recovering from internal conflicts and just wanted to refocus. Some simply want to hide behind a new identity and exist like that for a while, with no big goals involved.

Just fun. Many times trail names can be fun levels that reflect the simple, unfiltered, universal truth that each of us, in our own special way, is an absolute shitshow. I’m Nor’Easter for reasons I’ll explain below, but I could have easily been Trip, Poser, Paunch, or Knotbrain. Two guys I walked with from Fontana to Harpers were Drop and Gold Bond. Drop didn’t pack well and dropped things. The story of Gold Bond is said to have involved strong irritations, the liberal application of a certain medical powder, and a scream heard in Siberia.

An exclusive guild. Adopting a trail name is an initiation into a community of sorts, integrating you into a centuries-old myth full of drama, romance, anguish, exhaustion, dehydration, voracity, searching, and joy. That name you adopt will forever be associated with you and is the binding artifact between you and the path. It makes you part of the story. And it will last beyond you.

But also the outliers. Then there are people who have different opinions. One day I heard two well-known YouTube/podcaster guys talking about how they took names, but reluctantly, and I think the whole Trail Name thing is a little stupid. OK. One lady said that taking a name is a prudent security trick. Fair. I met at least 5 other people on the grumpy side of the house who were «Just (insert real name and say it gruffly).»

Red, Kennebec and Yukon Gold

I only named one hiker in 2012. I was hiking with a kid fresh out of the military. The name was Marcos. We walked together from Dick’s Creek Gap to the NOC. Sweet boy, fresh eyes that look at the world and his future with enviable anticipation. He was not cynical. Still. The problem was that he was from Idaho, and that fact came to light every time he started talking. Now there’s nothing wrong with Idaho. It is a magnificent state populated by solid, honest and robust people. But when you think of Idaho, you think of what? Potatoes. In fact, Idaho’s license plate directly says, «Famous Potatoes.» Yuck. New hampshireThe one about «Live free or die.» That’s great. But the famous potatoes? That’s a problem. So I said, «Dude, just listen for a minute, I want to make a suggestion and possibly save you from future verbal damage. The thing is, if we don’t do something now, you’ll inevitably become «Tater,» «Spud,» «Frenchy,» or «Tot.» We can’t have that. So, I propose that your trail name be «Famous.» «Hello. I’m famous.» Elegant.

I was proud of that work, although his was the only name I gave. But not the only one I enjoyed. I remember Hot Garbage, Ace, Ninja, Salty, Bomber, HT1, Squatch, Doc, Always Fine, Alien, Swiss Miss, Meats, Butters, Cliff, Antsy, Plus 3, Achilles and of course my 1200 mile companion, Pa Bert, 65 years old, a machine and inspirationthe guy I had a summit with that sunny day in early July. Those labels and the people they indicate are burned in me life.

So, whatever purpose and form it has been given, it will be your control for many months, if the walk goes well. It’s not often that we have a say in what we call ourselves or how we use the label. In any given life we ​​name many more pets than ourselves. Then we should move on.

A perfect storm

It seems to me that there are 4 different ways to get a trail name (or not): (1) it emerges on the trail organically; (2) Award by a Former Intern; (3) Self-designation; (4) No name

I got mine before the hike and it was given to me by my friend Mike, who climbed a NOBO in 2007, as «Raincheck.» I never asked him how he got the name because I thought I knew. At the time, Mike was married to a lovely, bright and fiery Irish girl. He frequently traveled to Ireland to fight with his family and eat crubeens and colcannon. He is also a huge audio aficionado, a devout fan of the blues and all things R&B-based. One of his favorite artists is the legendary Irishman Van Morrison. Morrison has a song called «Raincheck» off his album days like this. Great album. It includes lyrics like «I’ll keep moving forward to the top.» and «I won’t let those bastards crush me.» Perfect for the AT. Totally in line with Mike’s personality and tenacity. So I assumed it came from that. However, it turns out that the name of their trail had nothing to do with the song. Mike had several friends who had committed to hiking the trail with him. They quarreled one by one, offering him their apologies and a «rain guard.» Mike told the story along the way and, after a while, Raincheck was born.

When Raincheck told me my name, we were sitting in a pub called the boat in Oundle, a town in the West Midlands, UK, drinking a pint of Marston’s; He told me about it.

I was honored but, being a neophyte, I wasn’t sure it was appropriate, thinking that all the names just “pop up” once you’re there. (FTR, I still think it’s the purest, most authentic way to get one. And I waited to use the name until I was beyond Neel Gap.)

But he stated his case. He says:

1. It is your direction of travel as you go from GA to ME.
2. You’re from New England. His people came here in 1636. He was born in Massachusetts, raised in Connecticut, lived in New Hampshire for a time, and is now moving to Vermont.
3. You are going to turn 50 and this walk fits your life; ideal for this exact moment
4. Your family supports you
5. You have retired from a long career in the Navy and the Intelligence business.
6. You have the physical and mental strength to do this.
7. When you get excited, you can become a cyclone of words and heat.

And then he says, «So this is a perfect storm of justification. You need to be Nor’Easter.» And that’s the origin story. So I’m that guy.

Thanks for reading.

YAWP

Nor’Easter