Today in Polly on Trail

If you’re reading this, then Mica and I have made it back to the Maine woods and are proceeding south again toward Monson, at least one of us a humbler and wiser man than he was a week ago. I talked to my doctor, I changed some gear, I rested and healed my blisters. And to cover all the bases before we left, I asked my friend and colleague, professional oracle and proprietor of Ask Polly Heather Havrilesky, for her advice. Today I bring you that conversation.

We should hit Monson sometime around next Sunday the 21st, so I’ll post ‘em if I’ve got ‘em. But whenever and wherever it is, you’ll hear from me again soon.

Dear Polly,

Hey, it’s me. We’ve collaborated fruitfully and enjoyably in the past and I think of you as, if not a friend, at the very least a kind of much cooler but slightly scary cousin I look up to. Probably a friend though, right? I guess the amount of time I spent worrying about what you’d think of that sentence tilts it more toward “scary cousin.”

Anyway! You know what’s up. You read the post. I come to you for advice on my hike because, having received your wisdom unlooked-for in the past, I believe that giving advice is not just your profession but genuinely your calling. Advice flows from your soul like the coolest spring water, to soothe the brow and thirst of the heat-addled traveller.

Polly what should I do?

Love,
Really Underestimated Some Trails, Yikes

Dear RUSTY,

I’m worried that your hiking plans are still far too ambitious considering:

1. this year’s unprecedented heat and humidity, which is likely to continue or increase through September

2. hiking with 25 pounds on your back

3. your age

4. the medication you’re taking

5. your tendency to overdo it

6. your inability to identify heat exhaustion as the likely culprit in your failed test hike and your most recent hike

My opinion is that your daily mileage plans need to be scaled back dramatically, you need to drink and carry much more water, you need to leave for your hike very early in the morning and stop before noon, and you need to get a stress test and cardiac workup before you leave.

In addition to these steps, I’m prescribing the following articles: This one about three hikers who’ve died in the Grand Canyon in the past week, this one and this one about two women who chose to finish hiking alone and ended up lost and then dead, and this one about a teenager in Maine who felt ill but was forced to keep hiking and died.

No one thinks they can drop dead, yet it’s not at all unusual for men over 40 with a history of high blood pressure to do so. My father ran five miles a day, lifted weights, swam, and dropped dead from his first heart attack at the age of 56.

This response is much less funny than I planned it to be! I can only tell you that my personal approach, if I were determined to hike for several months, would be to treat myself like a very ancient, frail, sickly human: constant meals, constant water, bring equipment to check vitals, and behave like a paranoid freak in general. This is practically what I do when I’m sitting in my recliner playing Wingspan all day, and it’s definitely what I do when I’m on a long run and it's hotter than 75 and humid.

Be paranoid, Rusty. Don’t be heroic. Make Today on Trail the most cautious, fearful, snack-centric hiking newsletter ever written. Distinguish yourself from the pack. Hike like a sickly coward. You can put that on your stickers. The tater tots love this idea. They’ve been worried about you, too.

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