As The Crow Flies

I’ve been cutting up this big pine tree today. It doesn’t look that big in the picture but I got quite a bit of wood just from limbing it.

It was up on a piece of my property that was touched by fire. I guess it didn’t make it, because it fell over last winter.

It’s pretty lucky to find a big tree, already seasoned, laying on it’s side, up off the ground, close to the road.

So far, I am taking really good care of my new chainsaw and we are getting along fine.

The first time I hiked the PCT, I didn’t use a trail name; I felt it was a tradition that belonged to the social, more goofy, AT hiker.

The problem is, if you don’t have a trail name, other people will try to name you–as if you are some woodland orphan they found and get to name.

If you are a woman over 40, young men will try to tag you with a name that has ma, mother, mom, or granny in it. Other hikers will try to name you after some mistake you made or some insignificant detail about yourself.

It _is_ easier to remember people who have trail names. So when picking out a trail name, you may want to try for something unique.

If it is unique you are after, animal names don’t work well because there are always too many “Crows” and “Bears” on the trail. The names of the characters of the Hobbit are usually over represented as well. Cross off anything to do with feet; there are always lots of people named after their sore, tired, stinky, clumsy, blistered, or swift feet. Having references to how slow, fast, light, or heavy you hike is also overdone.

I think it would be awkward to introduce myself with a long or excessively goofy name. Foreign words that are hard to pronounce aren’t a good choice either; I once hiked with a woman for 2 weeks before I could pronounce her name and even then I could never spell it right.

Once you have a trail name, people will stop trying to name you. Making up a story about how you got your tail name is a plus.