Hikin' Nine to Five: Trail angst
Appalachia, December 2002
Hiker angst can be expressed in many genres, often in long narratives full of unimaginative four-letter words. Poems and songs do it best, especially this one by Minstrel of the Mounties, posted at Cloudland (Vermont) on June 5, 1981:
Packin' the AT
— Sung to the [Beatles] tune of "Back in the USSR"
Made it to the shelter in the dark last night
Barely saw the blazin' trail
Whipped out my pocket mirror, saw a dreadful sight
My God! I must really smell
I'm packin' the AT
You know what a trip it can be
Yeah!
Packin' the AT.
Been away so long from the civil life
Wonder what it's like back home
I been eatin' dinner with a bowie knife
and smokin' my weed through a bone
I'm packin' the AT
You know what a trip it can be, yeah
Packin', packin', packin' the AT.
Well the air up here smells so clean
The water tastes so fine
The stars at night give the sky a sheen
That makes me wish I had myself a bottle
of wine, wine, wine.
Oh...
Take me to the mountains, honey
Way up high
Get out of this mosquito farm
Let me see the trees, let me hear you sigh
Baby, come and keep me warm
Packin' the AT
You know that's the life for me
Packin' the AT.
Although the parody is more than 20 years old, the song still works. It ought to be on every hiker's playlist. One imagines that Minstrel of the Mounties polished this gem over the course of several lonely months on the trail. It is certainly more accomplished than the more contemporary parody "I'm Too Sexy For My Pack" (from May 2000 in the Sam Moore Shelter [Virginia]), which merely lists several other items — the hiker's bag, socks, beard, gaiters, and drawers (which he rhymes with "whores").
The song on which the next parody is based is nearly as old as "Back in the USSR," and its theme is quite similar. The parody was composed during the summer of 1980, while the original song was still popular:
Hikin' Nine to Five
— Sung to Dolly Parton's "Nine to Five"
Sit up in my bag and I look at the time,
It's quarter of eight, and I feel like dyin',
'Cause it's time to rise and shine and hit the Trail.
I grab for my socks and I eat my granola,
I look at the guidebook to check it over
And count the number of climbs I got today.
Hikin' nine to five yeah, it's fun if you're insane,
Get up every day, and subject yourself to pain,
You can wear moleskin, but it won't do what it should,
'Cause Pennsylvania's gonna cripple you good.
It's hard to keep from gettin' Café Fever
When your freeze-dried beef looks and tastes like beaver
And your powdered milk got mixed with lemonade
And Murphy's Law always waits for the kill,
But if he doesn't get you the RELOS will
So hang it up folks, life on the Trail is rigged. |
— The Traipsin' Tarheel |
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My hat's off to the Traipsin' Tarheel. The song is passionate and well crafted, good enough to perform in public, as is another hiker's parody of Kenny Rogers's well-known "The Gambler," entitled "The Hiker," which I would quote from at length if the author, another Minstrel, had not claimed copyright! The last line of the chorus goes, "There'll be time enough for countin' [miles] when Katahdin's done." Minstrel was kind enough to provide all the chord changes and even advice on capo use. Reaction by other hikers was mixed. Where the author wrote, "Please memorize this one," someone commented, "But try not to get it stuck in your head, either." Almost a month later, Mussel Butt said, "I love Minstrel's song 'The Hiker'... I've been singing 'The Gambler' for weeks — now I can sing 'The Hiker'!" Thus the progression is made from the original to the (perhaps more challenging) "trail version."
One can almost hear the raspy wail of Janis Joplin in this sad number, more an expression of despair than rage. It was written in the register of Mount Madison in New Hampshire on Sept. 9, 1985:
[to the tune of "Mercedes Benz"]
Oh Lord...
Won't you send...
A helicopter please...
My friends
Are all hiking...
It's hurting my knees
I'll wait for your chopper
Right here 'till it comes...
'Cause oh Lord...
You see...
I've run out of rum...!
The next two sound alike, both having four accented syllables per line — easy to hike to. Because they appeared a couple of months apart in the same register (Hexacuba [N.Y.] in the summer of 1992), perhaps the first influenced the second:
Thoughts of an AT Hiker
I've hiked from Georgia, now to Maine,
Not for worldly wealth or fame,
I hike the trail because it's here,
It's now a friend with which I share.
We share the cold, we share the heat,
We share the mud beneath my feet,
We share the black flies and the rain,
We share the joys, we share the pain.
Though sweat may pour upon my brow,
I'll make it on, to Maine, somehow,
I know there'll be tough days ahead,
But I'll survive, that's how I'm bred. |
— Vagabond Lou |
Ballad of the AT'ers
F- the mountains, F- the hills, [hiker's dashes]
this ain't no way to pay my bills
Stuck to my body's a heavy pack
I've gone so far I can't turn back.
My feet are sore, my back is broke
and all I want is a can of Coke,
a pizza pie, a T-bone steak,
a VCR, and a three day break.
The rain comes down day after day
Your feet get wet-there's hell to pay
Eating freeze dried food, surrounded by wood
Even a Taco Bell sounds real good
I'm sweating so much, I smell like a dump
and every five minutes I sit on a stump
To catch my breath and just plain rest.
"Another ten feet? I'll do my best."
It's tough going up, It's tough going down
Sixty miles from Moosilauke to Hanover town. |
— Pit Sting |
