The Adventures of Rambo & Squeak: A Brother & Sister Hit the Appalachian Trail

In preparing for lashing (long ass section hiking), I need to get miles in with my gear and set up.  I've enlisted by older brother, Paul (AKA Uggie) to go on at least one backpacking trek with me, but this isn't as easy as you think it should be, but is as hilarious as you would expect it to be (people want us to go on the road as a comedy duo).

Polar Opposites

Paul and I are polar opposites.  His nickname in high school was "Rambo."  He (legally) owns more guns than anyone I know.  He wears camo (all the time).  He has American flags hanging all over the place, but especially near his gun cabinets.  His is a Corrections Officer; he is rabidly Republican; he is loud and shouts and yells and carries on.  He's agnostic.  He chews tobacco.  He has a giant tattoo of a wolf and cubs.  He carries his NRA membership card in place of a library card.

I hug trees and save kittens.

Why Bother?

The thing we share, though, is a love of nature.  He's always wanted to do a backpacking trip, and since I go out all the time, it felt right to ask him to join me on at least one.  I thought he would say no, but, instead, got all excited (and insisted we can't hike in New Jersey where he can't open carry).  

Eye Roll.  

Ok, PA it is.

Hiking versus Camping

Paul and his family car camped when his three daughters were small.  But, then they saw a bear, and none of the girls, his wife included, ever wanted to go back.  Paul has every piece of car camping gear ever invented, and he invented some of his own DYI hacks, as well.  He is incredibly creative and talented.  He has made his own knives and gun stocks.  He can do almost anything with leather.  But, he has a crap ton of stuff, and he plans to haul it all up and down the rocks and boulders of "Painsylvania. " 

My brother, like my Mom, God rest her soul, knows everything, so when I tell him hiking the AT is more about the hiking and less about the camping, he rolls his eyes.  His pack will weigh in at about 60 pounds.  Mine? 18 pounds loaded with water and food.

He's bringing a cast iron pan, 2 cases of Ramen (4 day trip), a hatchet, and an assortment of weapons...he is probably bringing chain mail, too.  He's wearing combat boots.  He's going to "use a stick" because "only sissies" use trekking poles.  For him, cotton dries fast enough.  Rain gear? Pshaw.  Garbage bags!  Hatchet?  Everyone needs a freakin hatchet!  Sleeping bag?  Screw that; he's bringing a tarp.  

I looked at his packing list, and my inner UL fairy was banging her head on his giant tent stakes.  

Crazy Train

This is going to be one crazy ride, and I am going to vlog the whole damn thing as a tribute to our parents, who never stopped laughing at us.  How they produced two such opposite creatures is beyond me.  








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