The term slackpacker was first coined to describe Appalachian Trail (AT) hikers who, while intent on walking the entire 2,150 miles, nevertheless planned on doing it as casually as possible. Now it's often used to mean hiking without a heavy pack, which is accomplished by having gear and supplies transported to road crossings along the route. In this book I use the original meaning. One of the walkers the description was first applied to holds the record for the slowest continuous Appalachian Trail walk: o.d. coyote (his “trail” name-an AT tradition-which has become his real name) took 263 days for his hike, an average of 8 miles a day.
In the September-October 1994 issue of Appalachian Trailway News, the journal of the Appalachian Trail Conference, o.d. coyote described slackpacking as an “attempt to backpack in a manner that is never trying, difficult, or tense, but in a slowly free-flowing way that drifts with whatever currents of interest, attraction, or stimulation are blowing at that moment” and wrote that slackpacking means escaping from “our culture's slavish devotion to efficiency” and banishing “the gnawing rat of goal-orientation” by relearning how to play.
The opposite of slackpacking is fastpacking, or powerhiking, which maximizes daily mileage by walking for long hours with only a few short stops. It can mean speed hiking, too, where you hike as fast as possible, but speed isn't the main aim-distance is. Fastpackers usually travel ultralight so they don't need to rest often. They can cover more miles and therefore see more in a weekend or hike long trails in half the normal time. Ultimately fastpacking merges into trail running, so I was interested but not surprised to hear from one fastpacker that he'd run sections of the Appalachian Trail while through-hiking. Fastpacking and trail running may sound like tough, painful work, but for devotees there are many rewards. Hearken to the words of long-distance runner John Annerino,who has run the length of the Grand Canyon on both the north and south sides of the Colorado River:
“And so I run, run like the wind, the wind pushing me across a rainbow of joy that now extends from one end of the Grand Canyon to the other. The running is a fantasy come alive; there is no effort, nor is there the faintest hint of pain. It is pure flight” (Running Wild). And British long-distance wilderness runner Mike Cudahy, who has run the 270-mile Pennine Way in England in under three days, offers this explanation for the “indescribable joy” that can occur on a long, hard run: “Perhaps the artificiality of a conventional and sophisticated society is stripped away and the simple, ingenuous nature of a creature of the earth is laid bare.” Fastpacking and slackpacking are extremes. Most backpackers do neither, but everyone tends toward one or the other. Is one better? No. Different approaches are right for different people. There's nothing wrong with walking the Appalachian Trail at 8 miles a day or running the length of the Grand Canyon in a week-as long as it satisfies and rejuvenates you and you respect nature and the land you are moving through. There's no need for hikers to criticize each other for being too fast or too slow, for bagging peaks or collecting miles, for going alone or in large groups, for sticking to trails or not sticking to trails-for being, in fact, different from the critic.
There are practical reasons for being able to cover long distances at times, though. Being able to travel fast if necessary can be important for safety. Having that ability in reserve means you are always hiking within your capabilities, so if a storm arises or you find your planned campsite a morass, you'll have the extra energy and strength to keep going. And if the weather or unforeseen hazards-difficult river crossings, blocked trails-slow you down, being able to hike fast for a day or two can mean finishing the trip when you intended without arriving exhausted and footsore.
To experience all that walking has to offer, it's worth trying different approaches. If you generally amble along, stopping frequently, try pushing yourself occasionally to see what it feels like. If you always zoom over the hills, eating up the miles, then slow down once in a while, take long rest stops, look around.
