Ultralight: I Hiked the AT with a Flip Phone
BY KATE PEEBLES
A month into my Appalachian Trail thru-hike, I sat on the back of my friend’s Kawasaki as we cruised along the Back of the Dragon motorcycle route on a sunny "zero day" in southern Virginia. Somewhere in the myriad hairpin turns, my iPhone slipped out of my pocket and found a new home nestled in some ravine. We rode the bike to Walmart and I bought a $30 flip-phone.
Back on trail the next day, I hiked for half an hour before I noticed I was stepping around the same constellation of cow patties that I had walked around two days prior, so I turned around. Message received. I buried myself in my AWOL guidebook, read every trail sign three times, and—out of necessity—got better acquainted with where I was and where I was going. Elderly people in town and I bonded by comparing our flip phone models. A couple of teens stared at the phone like it was an ancient relic before deeming it “cool.” Without the digital world in my pocket, the texture of my experience began to shift. Privacy and connection both felt richer, and a little more complicated. I realized how often I turn to my phone to fill the distance between myself and my willingness to be present.
I also realized what a useful tool my smartphone had been. In Pennsylvania, most water was limited to caches supplied by Trail Angels. Relying on bumping into Southbounders to check on water was a flimsy way to get intel for big hiking days. In one bizarre escapade, I found myself on the edge of a small forest fire, and wondered whether googling information would be a good use of my measly data allowance (a few searches a month in a 1990s-speed browser). Another evening I got turned around and mistakenly backtracked two miles.
Hiking with a flip-phone was a net positive for me, and while I'm ready to reenter the 21st Century, I’m not quite ready for push notifications.
Photo: Chris Bennett
2 comments
How frustrating it must be to hike without the convienence of todays AT luxuries. I certainly appreciate them when backpacking today. In 1974 it was paper maps, a camera, a 5 pound sleeping bag and a 54 inch pad, heavy everything, external frame pack, state of the day Primus stove and gasoline. Other than the lack of cell phones, there was no Uber, trail magic or angels, no hostels, There was General Delivery that had to be planned. And although there were other through hikers (even a “Strider”), you were on your own. I spent at least 35 nights alone in lean-tos, even in the Smokies, where every shelter had a chain link fence. A night in an AMC hut in NH was $11 a night. Met a lot of really nice people and have memories that are still strong 50 years later. And thankfully there was Mountain House!
In an attempt to lower my monthly expenditures during my AT thru-hike I also switched to a flip-phone. That was 2019 and I still have not upgraded back. Since my hike I have continued find ways to remain in the spirit of the trail and avoiding constant updates, immediate access, apps. galore; I even have switched to a 24-hour dialog watch. These attempts have lowered my life stress and have opened up more time to experience the limited time I have on this planet. Everyone should downgrade and get back to living life.