Thursday, November 7, 2013

Play the Numbers Game

The length of the trail is 2185.9 miles. Currently. It has a nasty habit of getting a little longer every year as old sections of trail are bypassed with new sections.

It's estimated that it takes about 5,000,000 steps (that's five million) to complete the trail.

Well, I happen to know exactly what my pace is, courtesy of my years of orienteering experience. When walking normally, it's 61 double paces per 100 meters. That's 122 steps per 100 meters. 2185.9 miles is 3517865.05 meters. So for me, it's only 4,291,795 steps. Whew! Glad I figured that out...

So how long is it going to take me? If we use my latest long hike as an example, then I averaged 14.2 miles/day over the 100 mile wilderness. If I maintain that same pace for the entire trail, it would take me 154 days. Starting on July 12th I would finish on December 13th. Just in time for Christmas! But that's with no "zero" days. That's trail slang for a day off. There is also a "nero" day, which is not when you sit around fiddling, but when you do just a few miles. So every day that you slack off has to be made up somewhere. The conventional wisdom is that you need to average about 15 miles a day to finish in a reasonable time, including all zero and nero days.

Even though I am playing with numbers in this journal entry, I am not going to set a schedule. I will not, for instance, say that I will reach the Mason-Dixon line in 64.7 days. Instead I will play it by ear as I go along, doing my best to keep my average up.

Another topic of discussion that can be all-consuming with hikers is the question of weight, as in how much weight are you carrying? When you consider that I have to carry everything on my back this is pretty important. Decades ago, I would carry 40 pounds or more and struggle to do a mile an hour. But materials and techniques have improved, and my pack weight has dropped to less than 15 pounds with no food or water. How much stuff do you really need, after all? Thru-hiking is all about simplifying your life, reducing your wants and needs to the bare essentials to maintain comfort.

I use a hammock (that I sewed myself) and a cuben fiber tarp. My pack has no frame, but relies on the contents to hold it's shape. I use a tiny alcohol stove made from a soda can. I carry just enough clothes to stay warm and dry. I use a kitchen scale to weigh everything, and make the best decisions I can, always weighing cost versus convenience and comfort. There is nothing unique about this - there are many people that carry this to an extreme, in both directions.

So playing with numbers can be amusing - and sobering. Enlightening and depressing. Best to keep your eyes on the prize and not get too obsessed with the details.


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