Week -1
In which I become ready to go.
Welcome back to Stairsteps, a semi-regular series about my attempt to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail in 2026! This newsletter tries to highlight some of the challenges and joys of discovering thru-hiking, as told by one stairmaster adept and dubious trail cook. If you have questions, whether about hiking generally or my AT hike specifically, please comment or reach out - I’ll gladly respond when I can (i.e when I have cell service)!
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Hey, Yall.
Well, it’s official - I feel ready. After last week’s small anxiety spike, this week was a needed rally for me, not the least of which is because my hiking gear errands are at long last done. The swirling haze of chores is starting to thin out, which is such a relief after the past two months of nearly full-time work on them!
As a heads up: this will be my last major update before I head out! There’s more on what that means at the end of this post.
What Have I Been Up To?
The week started slow, as I slogged through the last chores of backpack finalization. After a few trade-ins, a marathon equipment-weighing session, and some cruising around online forums (and filtering out hiking Reddit’s obsession with hyperlight gear lists), I incorporated the fruits of early-week errands into a much cleaner LighterPack list:
I have to say, I am absolutely thrilled with myself to see a non-consumable weight of 26 lbs. Given that I originally expected that number to be closer to 30, I’ve even added a few minor items to the pack; I will now also be taking a lightweight repair kit, a small journal/sketchbook for entertainment, and a few more “nice-to-haves” in my first aid kit.
Granted, adding new stuff in means the above pie chart is already no longer gram-accurate. Whoops, but also… I don’t care. The additions add maybe another 8 oz max (~226g for the cool and sexy metric fans out there), and I’m already sick of all the weighing and reweighing. I will surely post an update after I’m finished with the trail where I catalogue everything that lasted me the distance, but I’ll save that for several million footsteps down the road.
Beyond just a weight-check, my final pre-trail gear list got a couple stress tests around midweek. I met separately with two of my thru-hiker friends for “shakedowns” - where you show more experienced hikers all the equipment you have, explain why you have each thing, and trade thoughts on how best to organize your stuff (and/or possibly be told that you’re carrying junk). Maybe it’s gauche to brag… but I’m proud to say that neither shakedown resulted in me tossing a single piece of equipment. Both of my pals explicitly said I’m ready!
This week, I also turned to the nebulous “10 pounds of food” that has been a line item assumption in my pack list for a while. Since subsisting on only ramen bombs would be a sodium-shriveled nightmare and a bad idea, I needed to flesh out a menu.
One couple-hour trip to the grocery store and a calorie-counting marathon later,1 my repertoire has now branched out to include such amuse-bouche as “pop tarts in a tortilla with peanut butter” and “summer sausage with way too many crackers.” These dishes will be great hiker fuel and basically manna from heaven in the woods, but I feel a bit like I’m making Julia Child turn in her grave. Fuel is fuel though, so as she surely said herself a few times in France: bone apple tea!
Moving from fuel to the “fire,” I also worked hard to keep my level of activity up this week. Owing to the cold snap we experienced and the time sink of other preparations, I did find myself mostly indoors (booo). This was definitely the week’s lowlight; I cannot wait to have a stable week of weather again. The woods make for a much less baggage-laden backdrop to working out than the godforsaken rows of TVs every gym seems to have.
Speaking of, here’s where I want to get serious for a second.
I could hide this in a footnote, but I’m done pretending like things in the world are okay or normal right now, and I want to be crystal clear with how I feel:
As much as I want to keep making quip-y little cracks about how yet another pointless goddamn war waged by bloodthirsty billionaires and death cultists2 is a good rage-boost for a few extra reps, or a good excuse to hike the AT this year, or whatever other stupid coping mechanism joke I could write… the truth is that I feel a sense of creeping dread about things lately that makes being snarky feel crasser than usual. So, I’m going to be honest here.
My biggest struggle this week has been in keeping my preparations moving forward despite feeling this thin veil of guilt shrouding me. I have felt it while watching our country’s bloated military apparatus do its miserable work, yet again, on the Middle East, all at the orders of the most grotesque men America has to offer (and especially to start a fight with a nation with which we previously had a deal about nuclear development, as a reminder for those who need it).
What I’ve seen in the news lately (well, for like my entire life since I’m a millennial, but I digress) has been supremely depressing and worrying to me. The pointless loss of human lives for a war without clear goals just… really smacks with notes of the familiar rotten tang of 2003. I have felt so angry and powerless, especially over the past couple of weeks through the bombings of desalination plants, refineries, and even active hospitals and schools at the hands of our military. And there’s no shortage of disgusting, shameless inhumanity being spouted by those remorseless ghouls currently in charge, to top it off.
And I don’t know. It feels selfish to even think of my own plans in the face of another US-led quagmire. Obviously this thru-hike is pretty small potatoes and inconsequential next to the - you know - destruction of people’s lives? But as everyone should know by now, this stuff doesn’t only have impacts on the other side of the globe. Since the only real forum I have is this dumb little newsletter about hiking, I feel a need to talk openly about what I know. I’ve been left with a lot of questions for myself in the wake of these two weeks of geopolitics insanity:
Will hitchhiking into town be less reliable or more expensive than in previous years, thanks to ballooning gas prices?
Will disruptions in petrochemical and trade operations impact my replacement gear (there’s a lot of plastic in my kit) or food resupply (it takes absolute buckets of fuel to ship around food)?
Will stressed rural health services be able to accommodate me or get me adequate care, given recent years’ funding cuts to medicaid? Hell, since I’m on medicaid for this hike, will I even have decent coverage at all?
Will under-reported job numbers come home to roost and put us in a recession while I’m out there? Are we already there and just don’t know it? Could I come back home to another year of unemployment?
Will the carbon released by the burning wrecks of oil refineries help push this summer - which I will of course have to hike and sleep outdoors through - to be the third fourth consecutive “warmest summer on record?”3
I don’t know, and I guess I’ll just have to find out. Cool.
This has been probably the singular most stressful element of my thru-hike, and it’s really come to a head this month; no matter how much careful planning I do, the world around us continues to destabilize because we have shortsighted children in charge here in the US. Seemingly, they either can’t or deliberately won’t4 work to improve any situation they touch.
People (rightly) worry about the dangers of hygiene, wild animals, and strangers when we talk about the AT, but almost no one’s asked me about these threats - the stupid reality of us normal folks having to weather the sweeping consequences of a bunch of billionaire politicians’ vain and prideful actions - that could derail this thru-hike.
Of course, this is all out of my control and will likely not affect me personally, but it’s exhausting to pretend like I don’t feel deeply sad and angry about it all. I’m not going to let instability stop me from heading out there and hiking - in fact, it’s a big part of why I’m hiking the AT - but like I said, I want to be clear how I feel about this.
Also, release the Epstein files. Who are you protecting, Donald?
So anyways, as I said: being stuck inside sucks. God, I can’t wait to be out in the woods like the stinking hippie some folks think I am.
On a less bitter note, while pushing through the existential horror by bumping Charlixcx’s brat for what must be the three-dozenth time, I did set a new personal best for the stairmaster. Plus, my IT band tightness has subsided a bit, no doubt thanks to the treatment options given to me by my PT relatives. Do your stretches and exercises, yall.
Grim gym time aside, I was also able to get in a bit of hiking once the weather warmed. Bolstered by all the week’s auspicious feedback and (cleary) desperately needing a break, I packed up and headed back out to a still-muddy Floyd’s Fork for a test hike with the full kit. The Paw Paw Trail was a bit same-y with its bare trees,5 but I practiced making camp afterwards, which went well. I had to work through a decent wind, which tested my situational awareness with my new lighter and more-easily-blown-away tent. And hey, I also confirmed that my cold weather clothing can stand up to a decent breeze. Overall, it was a bolstering hike, and I left confident.
At the end of the week, after all the preparations, glum workouts, and shakedowns of the week, it was time for a bit of overdue fun.
My parents invited my extended family to their place for a going-away party to mark my last weekend in town. The little soirée included a taco bar, delicious lemon-and-blueberry desserts made by my sister, and plenty of catching up and chatting about the trail and life in general with cousins, aunts, and uncles. Between the nearly-summer weather and having the family together, it was lovely. I also got to run a kind of reverse-shakedown, where I got to take the role of the expert while running through my entire pack with my family.
We passed around my pack so people could get a sense of its awkwardness and weight (thankfully, no one fell over), I answered a small barrage of questions, and I got to walk everyone through the process of making camp - including (yes, again) making a ramen bomb for folks to sample. Though far from fine dining, the family agreed that it was shockingly good, if with the understandable qualifiers of “wow, that’s really heavy food”s.
Beyond merely good practice, running though it all - being able to show my family what I have learned and answering their questions in real time - helped to put a few minds (more) at ease. Given the dangers and challenges thru-hiking poses, they’ve been understandably nervous-to-anxious about it, so I was really glad to get the chance to do this with them and show that I’ve been no slouch in preparing.
It was a great night for a sweet sendoff. I’ll remember those chicken tacos fondly in the coming months. Thanks, mom and dad!
My big takeaway from this week is that I am set to go and frankly emotionally ready for the first week of Appalachian Trail hiking, which feels… pretty surreal. And with that, I have my first week’s itinerary!
As I touched on in my “What and How” post, the AT really is best planned as a series of long hikes between towns. My first week’s destination will be Neel Gap, the first chance to resupply, located at mile 31.2 of the NOBO AT. Add to this the 8.2 miles of the Springer Approach Trail that come before the AT proper, and my first week trek will be about 40 miles. I hope to cover this in five days; the hills I’ve seen on the FarOut app’s maps are daunting, but I feel okay calling that goal doable-if-ambitious.
Back and Forth
Well, given the impending start date, this “hard goals” section of the newsletter was… short-lived. Still, to keep myself honest, let’s see how I did with last week’s. Bolded tasks weren’t completed, strikethroughs were:
Reallyfinalize gear (Garmin included)!Complete gear shakedownFinish LighterPack listDecide between current and lighter gearTentSleeping pad
Cook another meal on camping stove (attempt a bastardized “pad thai” ramen bomb?)Work out or hike hills 6 daysAt least once, hike a 10-mile day
Eat 7 more bananasSTRETCH EVERY DAYPlan the first week on the trail
Stock bear can with exact food!6
Locate resupplies
Bonus [weather permitting]: test rain gear
Bonus [weather permitting]: test cold gear
I definitely could have been a bit more aggressive on my mileage hiked, but I’m going to give myself a pass on that 10-miler given the extent of my other preparations. There will be plenty of time and chances to get used to higher-mileage days soon, anyways.
Goals for this upcoming week are very simple:
Rest (no major workouts) a full 48 hours ahead of the first day on the AT
Start hiking the Appalachian Trail!
This is the last week I will even gesture at setting a list of concrete goals for myself. Once I’m out on the trail, my only real goals will be “get to where I’m going,” which will be such a nice change of pace from all this planning.
So, What’s Next?
As I said up top, my next update won’t be coming until after I head out. Ahead of my departure date, I’ll be taking a break from draft-writing and posting to say goodbye to friends, to prepare for being away for six months, and then to head down to Amicalola Falls State Park!
A quick big disclaimer for when that happens: I will be posting these updates through either the Substack app or the mobile browser, which in my experience are far, far clunkier than the desktop experience. If you see me mistakenly post something… no you didn’t, thank you very much. UI issues or not, I do still hope to keep these newsletters going strong for as long as I can - I would hate to deprive you all of the thrill of hearing me talk about the insane feats of food-slaying my hunger will drive me to eventually.
To get serious again: several times this past week, I’ve had waves of that kind of “ambiguously anticipatory” feeling that comes before a big and uncertain life change. Starting this adventure feels realer and is closer than ever, but simultaneously still feels far away, like it’s going to happen to someone else.7
Overall, I feel (and have felt for a while) so very ready for something new. Which is good; I’m sure I have no meaningful idea how truly huge and cool this “something new” is going to be, so I’ll take all the emotion readiness I can get! But I’m ready to find out what it holds - aching legs, infinite pack-infiltrating dirt, great views, and all.
Honestly, simply preparing to attempt to hike the Appalachian Trail has already been really uplifting for me in this year and its spots of real ugliness. The people I’ve gotten to know while getting equipped to thru-hike have been some of the nicest and most chill folks I’ve met in a long time.8 And though I sound like a broken record, feeling the support of family and friends in the run-up to this thing has been nothing short of humbling and very encouraging.
Thanks to all of you reading for following my frivolous little words. I hope to be able to share as much of this crazy adventure with you all as I can, spotty AT&T coverage permitting. With a bit of luck and a lot of persistence, I’ll be able to thank you for your support by sharing stories from Springer Mountain all the way to Katahdin.
I’ll check in again when I can, after some days of hard-ass hiking. In the meantime, take care and make the best of the spring (or summer, depending on the temperature) weather!
-Michael
Since I’ve only made mention of my metabolism “going nuts out there” in my past posts, let me put numbers to it here: an often-cited figure is that hiking with a heavy pack can burn 500-700 calories per hour. Across an 8-12 hour day of hiking, that means 4000-6000 calories/day on the low end. Given this, there are a few things I need to keep in mind for the AT. First, food has both volume and mass[citation needed], and second, I need to cram those up-to-6000 calories into my bear can without overloading it and making myself feel like Atlas.
But importantly, I also shouldn’t have to start with that many calories since it will take time for my body to adjust to thru-hiking. My plan is to take it a bit calorically easy until my first resupply at Neel’s Gap - I have read several people’s advice that the intense stress of starting the trail can actually drive down appetite before your body catches up, so I’m not stressing overmuch here and am planning for 2000-3000 cal/day for the first weeks.
https://abcnews.com/Politics/hegseth-defends-us-attack-iran-retribution/story?id=130674351
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/mar/23/pete-hegseth-nihilist-cult
https://www.aclu.org/project-2025-explained ← ESPECIALLY READ THIS if you haven’t. Better late than never.
Fun (?) fact: I originally typed “third,” then looked it up to double check myself and found out it could in fact be the fourth. That’s just grand.
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/climate-change-fuels-record-summer-heat-killing-thousands/
I’m saying it again. READ: https://www.aclu.org/project-2025-explained
Hey, Spring: please stay and bring the leaves out. Any time now would be great.
So close! I probably could have accomplished this one, but also wanted to hold off just in case I ripped something that can go rancid out of its packaging. It likely would’ve been fine, but eh.
I have no doubt that hitting the Springer Approach Trail is going to be a very rude awakening from this feeling. Bring it on.
Shoutout especially to Maddie, Leila, and Stephen (or Ranger, Chaos, and Peachka, as their trail names were respectively) for sharing their insights and answering as many inane questions as I could ask. You all are fantastic people, and I hope to make you all proud with how far I go.
Good luck, Michael!!