A new and most likely final trail name for me
What is a trail name all about anyway? In the old days, like in the 90’s, it was a nickname that the other thru hikers would give to each other that would capture an event or story about the hiker, especially after they got to know each other a little. Most of the time, the hiker would agree to the name but sometimes they would hold out for a name that they liked. Sometimes the named hiker couldn’t fight it and had to accept the given trail name since the other hikers wouldn’t stop addressing him by that name. The trail name would have to be sort of be approved by the name giver and named hiker. I recent years, many hikers start with a self-given trail name or a nickname that they have been called for years. Me, I never really got a nickname. My friends would call me Lamanna, a more unique last name and that seemed to take the place of a nickname. Some of my college friends called me Gus, short for disgusting, and the way that they said Gus always made me laugh, but that didn’t stick either.
Many times people would assume that I was a cop. I believe that it’s because I don’t smile a lot. It’s just not my default face. I’m not unhappy, I’m just not a smiley person. I’ve also been accused of having a split personality. I don’t believe that is exactly true and I can be very quiet around people that I don’t know very well. I’m different with the hikers. I’m in my comfort zone with them.
I’ve had a few trail names in my years of hiking. I’ve been Pyro, Pyro the Wise, Coach and Beacon. Pyro came about because I was the guy who made a fire every night. I liked it. It was altered to become Pyro the Wise in 2010 when there was another Pyro hiking in my bubble. At that time, in 2010, I was hiking through the Shenandoah’s. The other Pyro had some sort of pyrotechnical mishap that he seemed rather proud of. I was hiking with The Crusher, a thru hiker from Canada, and on the way to the Big Meadows campground, he was telling me that some thru hikers were talking. They wanted to alter my name so that they’d know which Pyro they were talking about. The thru hikers said they were going to change my name to the Wise Pyro or to Pyro Senior. I wasn’t immediately sold on those names. I thought about those while hiking and later that day came up with Sir Pyro the Wise, which sounded Knightly and kind of cool to me. When I ran into The Crusher again 3 days later, it was at Ashby Gap where some trail magic of Pepsi’s was left. While I discussed the new name with the group of thru hikers there, it was shorted to Pyro the Wise and after the discussion, The Crusher was demonstrating the art of crushing soda cans in both English and French. The Crusher would crush the cans with a vocal assist, of which, as he said, “The French yell doesn’t have enough fury in it.” Once, I stopped being the guy who makes a fire every night, I renamed myself Coach, which I always liked being called when I managed basketball, soccer or softball teams but that was short lived. Coach didn’t have a hiking story and really doesn’t capture enough about me. I became Beacon, again renamed by thru hikers and I sort of liked that name. The thru hikers said, “When we walked over the ridge and were trying to see how close to the Little Laurel Shelter we were. We couldn’t see the shelter but saw you in the distance, in a fluorescent orange shirt searching for firewood.” When they told me the next day about the name, I laughed because my sister, Anne, who always bought me hiking shirts, would have been thrilled to know I got a trail name based on my clothing. She always said, “I wanted you to be the best dressed hiker on the trail.” And at times I have been.
Some may believe that they can be someone else out there on the AT. Some may believe that they can enjoy the freedom that being a different person can bring. For me it’s different, I just get to be me. I’m not a husband, a Dad, a brother, a son, a boss, a technical expert, a baseball expert or anything else, I’m just me. And that’s enough freedom for me. That’s one of the things that I really love about hiking and it doesn’t matter what my trail name is.
All of that brings me to my 2023 hike. I decided not to start with a trail name. I was going old school and would let the thru hikers name me. I was also starting as a thru hiker. I was #2719 and listed as no name yet for trail name. I almost named myself after a few incidents. First, a thru hiker named Abby bought a new pair of shoes at Neel’s Gap and wanted to throw her ‘old’ shoes up into a tree. She was hating her shoes and couldn’t wait to replace them. There are lots of pairs of shoes and boots in the tree in from of the Neel’s Gap outfitter/hostel. I said something like I hate to ruin the fun of throwing your shoes up in a tree but they are only 4 hiking days old and another hiker without much money might be able to use them. She considered it for a minute and decided not to listen to me, the killjoy. Later that afternoon, a bunch of the hikers at Neel’s Gap were going to get a ride into town to eat, and I bailed out, saying that I’d rather just rest at the hostel. I’d eaten a whole pizza around 3 pm anyway. I also said something like, remember killjoy, reminding them of the story about the shoes. I was really too tired to go anywhere. It didn’t become a trail name, thank goodness and I stopped saying that before it did.
Here’s my trail name story. It captures an event or two, and I loved it instantly.
It was day 20 of a 28 day hike. It was a 13 mile day which is a solid day for me. I was tired. I was happy to get a shelter spot. I was in the Smokies at the Mollies Ridge Shelter. I was staying in the shelter because there was supposed to a pouring rain that night. Around dusk, and after I had my sleeping area set up in the shelter, a thru hiker named Mochilera asked, “Do you want to play Bitches?” I responded with, “What is that?” She said, “It’s a dice game and it’s easy to learn.” I said, “Sure.” I mean, how could I say no to a dice game? The game has 11 six sided dice, and one each of 8/10/12/20 sided dice too. The object of the game is to roll all the dice at once, remove them when you roll their highest value and roll until all of the dice are removed. If you don’t reach a high value on the remaining rolled dice, you can remove the one dice closest to its highest value since you have to remove at least one dice. If the high value is a 4 on a six sided dice, you have 2 points counted against you. Lowest score wins. Simple game.
The dice for the game comes in a small sack with the word Bitches printed on the front. One of the six sided dice has Bitches written on it instead of a six. If that one is rolled, before the dice can be removed, all of the players have to say Bitches out loud prior to it being removed from the table. There were five of us playing. The players were Mochilera, her husband Ragnar, Bill, Happy Feet and me. We played on the shelter deck. Our headlamps lit up the dice as Mochilera explained the game to us by demonstrating how it went.
At this point, I’m going to flashback to 9 days earlier. I was departing the Muskrat Creek shelter on day 11. I had tented that night. I was all packed up and was setting my pack in the shelter so I could go use the privy. When I came back to the shelter, I noticed a lone dice on the shelter floor. I asked the few hikers remaining if anyone had lost a small black dice. No one claimed it and most of the hikers from the crowded shelter had left earlier. I put the dice in my pocket and called it a good luck charm. Three days later I made an unplanned stop in Franklin since a trail angel with a red truck offered me a ride into town and a ride back the next day. Too good of an offer to pass up. He dropped me off at the Hilltop Inn. I remember a truck full of snacks and treats that he had and all I took was an apple. You never know what food you’ll miss until you’re out there. Back at the Hilltop Inn, as I was getting my dirty laundry together, I found the small black dice in my pocket. I was going to put it in my journal baggie for safe keeping and decided to roll it first just to see how lucky it was.
The first roll was a 1. The second roll was a 6. My lucky number is 16. All of my email addresses have a 16 in them like JLamanna16@gmail.com. I was #16 in little league, #16 on most of my basketball teams, #16 on most of my softball teams, etc. If we got new shirts or uniforms, I always got #16. I put the dice carefully in the journal bag. Lucky for sure! I figured I’ll keep it forever.
Let go back to the evening at Mollies Ridge Shelter. During the first round of Bitches, I asked Mochilera, “Did you guys happen to lose a dice from your game?” Mochilera replied, “No, we didn’t lose a dice.” I told them how I found one small black dice back at Muskrat Creek Shelter. Mochilera again replied, “No, we didn’t stay there.” I got up and walked over to my upper level sleeping area. I got the dice out of my bag. In the moment, it felt like the right thing to do to let this particular dice go back to a game where it belonged. A lucky dice deserves to be in a fun game. Especially, a special game like this one. If you love it, let it go, right?
I showed them the dice. I told my story of finding it and also finding out that it really was lucky. I asked, “Can I add it to the game?” We added it for the second round. In their Bitches game, every dice has a name. I wish I could remember them all. The one I do remember is the big pink one which was called Pepto Bitch. Mochilera said, “Sure, you can add your dice but you have to name it.” That was easy. I had been telling them about dice stories and Strat-O-Matic Baseball, and my history of lucky rolls with both 6 and 20 sided dice. I said, “I’ll name my dice Strato Bitch.” They loved it. They paired it with a large black six sided dice and were going to make a rule if both turned up sixes. I thought that some night, at some future shelter or campsite, some other hiker will hear the name Strato Bitch and they’ll ask if that name comes from Strat-O-Matic Baseball. They’ll hear the story about a random hiker, me, who added the dice to the game, and Mochilera & Ragnar will tell them the story about me.
I didn’t win. We played 3 rounds. I did ok. On my last round, I believe I had 3 dice left and a perfect score. They were rooting for me. The dice didn’t roll my way but I still had my best score of the 3 rounds. I can’t remember who won. It was the perfect game for hikers to be playing in a shelter at night. It didn’t require much effort and I found myself rooting for the other players. We all made sure no one missed a dice that should be taken off and tired hikers could easily miss one of those.
I’m almost always the last one to leave camp and it’s usually close to 9 am, which is late for an AT thru hiker. I sleep great out there. I usually go to sleep at 9 and wake up at 7. 10 hours! I never do that at home. I usually take my time in the morning. I make coffee, eat breakfast, pack up and use the privy before I leave. The next day, I left close to last, as usual, and caught up to Mochilera and Ragnar on the way to the Derrick Knob Shelter. Mochilera said, “We were talking about how much fun it was to play Bitches last night. They said that they couldn’t remember my name but had been referring to me as “Dice” all day.” I said, “I like that trail name!” Dice, a new trail name and I liked it right away. From that point on, the last 8 days of my hike, I told everyone that my trail name was Dice. If they asked how I got it, I enjoyed telling them this story and they liked the story. When I told they story to Jumanji, who ran the hostel in Hot Springs, he loved it and said it was a cool name with a cool story. Jumanji and Sunshine run a hostel a few miles south of Hot Springs. It’s a nice place to relax and I needed less chaos to finish my hike.
I started the hike as John. I went old school and hoped that the thru hikers would name me and it worked. It took them 3 weeks to name me and now I’ll use that name forever.
A few days after being named, I saw Mochilera and Ragnar camped across the creek as I left the Smoky Mountain National Park. I called out to them from the trail, “Hello dice people!” We chatted from a distance. I also saw them at Garenflo Gap on day 28, we had lunch there. I may never see them again, that’s how it goes with hikers, but I’ll remember them forever and they’ll remember me whenever they roll a 6 on my Strato Bitch dice.
That dice did turn out to be lucky since it got me a trail name and some new friends. Also, in my 28 days, I had 3 minor falls and no injuries. I didn’t even take any Vitamin I (ibuprofen) for the entire trip.
When I got home, I put together the Bitches game with the dice I had. My wife, Terry, loved the game when I showed it to her and we have played with friends a few times now. We bought the official game too. It’s a game where you end up rooting for the other players and I believe that makes it more fun.
Some trail names that I have liked.
1. Holdout
2. Plunger
3. Starburst
4. Mystic
5. Low Note
6. Yogi
7. Persistent
Lonesome Lake Hut Story (2014)
After so many gloomy, wet and tough hiking days in the woods, the sun streaming through the trees was a welcome sight as I awoke on the 12th day of my section hike. The sun brings the promise of an easier hiking path and is always uplifting for a spirit worn down by a slippery path of mud, rocks and roots. It wasn’t just that I had fallen so many times during this hike or that I had one particularly difficult fall, it was the total of all of the time spent focusing on the placement of each footstep and how that fear of falling again had worn me out. I was at the Eliza Brook Shelter in New Hampshire, the sun was coming out, I’d had a great nights’ sleep and I could see that my food bag was still hanging in the shelter. Yes, it would be a great morning.
I had gotten to the shelter yesterday around 3 PM and it was just starting to rain. I’d filled my water bag along the path to the shelter and set it up so that I wouldn’t have to leave the shelter at all. Eliza Brook was about 3 years old. There was no fires allowed and the campsite was set up with stone lined paths leading to the privy, tent sites, water and the cooking area. It was clean for the most part but I still picked up a noodle pack, a tuna pack and some other bits of trash. There was trash that I couldn’t reach under the shelter. I always try to do my part, which is to leave the place better than I found it. No big deal. I was in a good mood even after using the privy which was filled almost to the top. I read in the shelter register that another hiker suggested that we use the privy with the door open to enjoy the view, and I did. I made my coffee, ate my Cliff bar and starting packing up.
The morning walk was along Eliza Brook was enjoyable, even though the sun had gone into hiding, with the rushing water providing the background music for my walk. When the trail finally stopped following the brook, I lost the trail. I didn’t pick up the trail markers which showed the trail crossing the brook. It’s happened a lot in this section where I don’t see exactly how the trail continued on. The next couple of miles were the toughest climb of my trip as I climbed up South Kinsman on the same rocks that the rain water was using to come down the mountain. I was almost at the top when I met Joe, the caretaker of this section of trail. Joe was taking some photos from the trail and I took a break there. I gave Joe a shelter update for Eliza Brook since he was headed there to do maintenance. The privy was full, the broom was worn down to a nub and there was still some trash there. He thanked me for picking up trash and said that I could leave my trash at his tent by the South Kinsman shelter. Lightening my load by giving him my trash was an unexpected bonus. Joe took some pictures of me there on the trail. But, the sun was hiding behind the clouds and we weren’t going to get great pictures. Joe told me that the toughest part was behind me and that it would get easier. What hiker wouldn’t want to believe that? I took some more photos on top of South Kinsman and the skies were getting darker when I got to North Kinsman. The shelter wasn’t too far away but I got soaked before I got there. I ate lunch in the shelter with some other hikers waiting out the rain, but when the sun came out in full force, I quickly finished eating and it was time to move on. I had barely passed the caretakers shelter when it started to rain again. The trail was very slippery as I headed downhill towards Franconia Notch. I met a couple hiking and they told me that they had eaten lunch 20 minutes ago at the Lonesome Lake Hut. I was relieved to hear that the hut was that close. Just then, the sky opened up and I hiked through my worst rain storm of the trip. I got soaked. My pack got soaked. It was so steep and slippery that I had to slide down some huge boulders on my butt and actually did wear out the threads on the seat of my pants. I’m lucky that I didn’t break my neck. I was mentally exhausted when I got to the steps leading up to the Lonesome Lake Hut.
As an AT hiker, I’d heard a lot of stories about the huts and the AMC. Prior to this hike, I had joined the AMC and budgeted for two nights in huts. The stories about the huts are largely centered around work for stay and finding a way not to pay the fee for the huts. The scuttlebutt on the AMC was that the letters really stand for the Appalachian Money Club and that they don’t care much about the real hikers. I was keeping an open mind so that I could decide for myself.
When I walked into the Lonesome Lake Hut, I stood near the door and allowed the water to drip off of my rain jacket before I went too far into the main room. It was warm and dry and the hot coffee was right in front of me. I had a flashback to the movie Field of Dreams when the Joe Jackson character asks Ray Kinsella, “Is this heaven?” and the reply was, “No, it’s Iowa.” I was starting to wonder if maybe I did die coming down that mountain. Before I could ask, “Is this heaven?”, Galan piped up with “Get yourself some coffee and warm up.” I love coffee. I needed to warm up. After 2 cups of coffee, I started to feel like myself again. The mental challenge of walking a slippery trail has been tougher than the physical challenge of the trail. As I returned to a more normal state, I read the dinner menu which was posted on the chalk board. I didn’t have to read past the first line of the menu to decide to stay. It was pea soup. Wow, my favorite!
I told Galan and Bobby that I was going to stay. It was $102.50. Good thing that I joined the AMC before this trip. After I registered, paid and told Galan my food allergies (mainly that I don’t eat peanuts or peanut butter), Bobby ran over to Sarah seated and one of the tables and whispered something. I got some more hot coffee and sat down again near Sarah and asked her what that was all about. She said that they didn’t have any guests last night and now they had 3 for tonight. They like having guests so he was pumped up. Perfect for me, Bill and Fred; since we were treated like royalty.
All of a sudden, a very loud thunder roll shook the hut and from outside the hut, a couple of young girls released what sounded like a synchronized high pitch scream, which was almost as surprising as the thunder. A group of about 50 kids and guides were running up the steps towards the hut. The croo snapped into action. It was time for me to leave the main dining room and find my bunk.
I took bunk room 6. It holds 7 bunks. I had the entire room to myself and I selfishly took over the entire room too. I strung my bear line between the bunks and set up a clothesline to hang all of my wet stuff. As I went through my pack, I found that my sleeping bag had gotten wet, despite being in two stuff sacks. I used every hook, both benches and the bear line to hang my gear. I dried as much as I could with my bandana. I was glad to be there. From the porch, just outside my room, I could see the rain clouds in the distance, clinging to the tops of the mountains and I was thinking that I’d been hiking through that all day. Below the clouds, I could make out the trees on the mountain side and had a clear view of the lake below the hut.
I got a phone signal from the railing outside the bunk room door. I called Kelly and Terry in Virginia. Kelly had a kidney biopsy procedure that day and I wanted to talk to her. She sounded great when I called her and it was good to hear that she was in good spirits. Terry sounded worn out. After I spoke with both of them, I felt much better. I was glad to be at the hut.
I went back to the main dining room about 5 pm. All was quiet. Galan and Sam were cherishing a New York Times by carefully controlling how much of it they read just to leave some more to read on their remaining days at the hut. It takes a unique young person to give up all of the modern technology for a summer and spend most of their time up in mountains with no cable or internet. I borrowed the sports section and returned it with nary a wrinkle, as I was careful not to mishandle it in any way.
I had dinner with Bill and Fred. These brothers were 65 and 68 years old and were hut to hut hiking. Bill had worked at Kodak in Rochester and Fred had spent 13 years at LM. We had some interesting conversations about work, retirement, hiking, huts, trails, physical conditioning, etc. The dinner was fantastic and the company was like eating with old college buddies. I ate way too much. As Bill said, “We did some pretty good damage to that rice for 3 old guys!” Pea soup, baguette bread, salad, rice, squash, chicken, decaf coffee and ginger snap cookies for desert. Isn’t heaven a place where you can eat all you want and never gain weight? I believe I’m there!
I went to sleep listening to the croo’s jazzy music as they cleaned up the kitchen. I probably fell asleep around 8:30 pm. I slept like a rock. I woke up around 6 am. The wakeup call was to be at 6:30 am and it shouldn’t have surprised me that some of the croo playing live music was the sound that was used to wake everyone. Breakfast was at 7 am. I can’t even remember if I was hungry yet but I made my way over to the dining room to get a cup of coffee. Bill was already there. Fred was doing stretches down at the dock.
Sarah had gone over the breakfast menu the night before. These guys wanted oatmeal. That is definitely not something that I ever eat. The omelet, bacon and coffee was all that I needed. Sarah brought out a huge bowl of oatmeal that looked more like porridge than the oatmeal that I see my wife eat. As those guys dove into it, I said that if I’m ever going to like oatmeal, it would be out here, so I tried it. I had a small serving of oatmeal with raisins, apricots and brown sugar. Guess what, I liked it. I had another small bowl of oatmeal before I demolished a huge omelet with green peppers and cheese, 10 slices of bacon and a few more cups of coffee. Sarah had actually cooked 4 slices of bacon each but who knew that Bill and Fred had cholesterol problems, so I greedily devoured the extra slices of perfectly cooked bacon. I could have saved some for the croo but it’s tough to leave bacon behind. Isn’t it one of life’s great pleasures to have someone cook bacon just the way that you like it?
As we were wrapping up the feast, in walked Jeff, Rick and John, who were supposed to be way ahead of me by now. They didn’t slack pack this section as planned and it was great to catch up. We talked about our plans for the day. I showed them where the bathrooms were and I showed them my bunk room. I left shortly after that.
Three nights later I was at the Zealand Falls Hut. I was sitting on the front porch bench watching the sunlight disappear and waiting for Levi to set up the telescope. I was talking to some other hikers and raving about the Lonesome Lake Hut. A girl sitting on the porch steps, was listening and she finally said that she worked at the Lonesome Lake Hut last year and knew the croo. She was working at the Mizpah Hut this year. She was glad to hear that I’d had such a good experience at Lonesome Lake.
Galan, Sarah, Bobby and Sam: You guys rock! Thanks for the great service. Galan, your pea soup is awesome. Sarah, your omelet was superb. Sammie: super salad! And Bobby, Dude, you like totally photo bombed me!