THE AT AND ME

Ten years ago I began hiking the Appalachian Trail. Three days later, I stopped. Another three days later – and 10 years ago today – I checked into Millinocket Medical.

This is a reprise of my hiking experience, by semi-popular request.

Originally published in “Nephrology Unchained”, the August, 1950 swimsuit edition

I’m not an outdoorsman, but I’ve always wanted to be one with nature, so I bought an ax, beef jerky and a Maine-English phrase book, and went to hike the Appalachian Trail (or the AT, as we hikers call it).

A good friend had been hiking it in 3 week ‘sections’ (or sectioning as we hikers call it), and I was joining for his final 100 miles, culminating at Mount Katahdin. 

The final stretch in Maine is the “100 mile wilderness” – a sign at the entrance says “Relinquish all hope, ye who enter here”, once a joke about marriage – but the promise of cocktails at the end was tempting, so I eagerly joined. 4 of us were hiking together, going mano a Maine.

I imagined smooth trails where we would link arms and “ease on down the road”, like in the  “Hike Maine” brochure, but the trail was tree roots and rock faces, making one wonder why we hikers call it a trail, and whether cash strapped Maine had sold the actual trail to the Chinese.

I fell early and often. Passing hiker’s mouths fell open, asking “What happened to him?” but one was prior to my first fall, so it might have been my haircut. My trail name was “Contusion”, and I made a decent amount of money charging hikersby to see the more spectacular bruises. Oddly, one of them formed a map of the AT.

Trail names are a hiking tradition – you can’t choose your name, it must be ‘given’. My name shifted daily, from “Contusion”, to “This was a bad idea” to “Can I have your baseball cards if you don’t make it?”

By lunch day one I knew I wasn’t a hiker, but the lure of cocktails at the end remained powerful, so I soldiered on. By lunch day 2 we decided to get me back to the start, as I had eaten all the beef jerky. The member of our party with a Maine ax permit was my escort.

The return trip knocked years off Purgatory/Limbo. I chanted “I do believe in spooks” incessantly, but to no avail.  There are a number of foods which I gagged down during the slog; I may never eat Northern Italian cuisine again.

Back at the beginning, I knew something was wrong when I couldn’t yodel. At the Eastern Maine Medical Center (or EMMC as we kidney patients call it), I learned I’d suffered kidney failure – a perfect medical storm of extreme dehydration, excessive ibuprofen and creepy banjo music.

A few rounds of dialysis fixed it and I was sent home. The staff was great, presenting me a 10% discount coupon for my next visit.

EMMC is a teaching hospital. They have a Maine Black Bear nursing program, where bears are given basic nursing training. One removed my catheter, a real memory maker. Needless to say, we’ve kept in touch.

After a few weeks my kidney function returned to normal. A lot of my other organs ain’t what they used to be, but that might just be age and lack of use.

Hiking’s off my bucket list. But the experience ended happily on two fronts:

Our litigation succeeded. I sued Maine, Arthur Treacher, and the estate of Daniel Boone, founder of the AT, and was awarded a year’s supply of maple syrup body wash.

And my screenplay based upon this experience, the “Death of Hope”, has been optioned by Sony Pictures. I’ll be played by the exhumed remains of Bing Crosby, while Gentle Ben’s grandson will play the nurse trainee.

What did I learn? Besides ‘to never hike again’, I learned that to be truly safe, only trust sports that can be paired with beer: Grilling, motocross, and bowling.

But after reading about a bowler who nearly lost his hand in the bowling ball return, who knows.

I guess My Captor is right – the only truly safe activity is sitting on the couch. But I can’t get used to wearing a helmet…

For 241 more posts like this –each with a wish for a hint on white blazes– go to beersatthenifty.com. Your phone will display every post, and you can waste an hour or two.

Or send me an email to the site, and I’ll add you to my Sunday distribution.

And I’m now on Substack at justluckytobehere.substack.com. Same stuff, but a different location.

ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR IT WITH THE FOLLOWING ‘AGING HIPSTER MUSIC’:

Google ‘Famous music from Maine’ and not much comes up. I’ve added ‘Portland, Maine’ by Donovan Woods – at least the title works. I’ve also added some old music from The Noisettes, an English synth pop band circa 2010. Fronted by Shingai Shoniwa, the album ‘Wild Young Hearts’ is quite enjoyable. I’ve added ‘Atticus’ ‘Don’t Upset the Rhythm’ ‘Saturday Night’ and ‘Wild Young Hearts’ to the BATN playlist.