“Let’s see here.  Allright, two dozen Reese Cups, gummy bears…”

Here it comes.

“Ramen…yep.  Uh, jar of peanut butter, tortillas, M&M’s.  Instant potatoes, um, two three, ok.  Ten Snickers, bag of Fritos, and, oh yeah, donut holes.”
The heavily bearded, slightly emaciated hiker in front of me nararated as he packed his foodbag.  Let’s call him Redbeard (a common moniker along the AT).

“And I could never do without these.”  He held out a sleeve of off brand sandwich cookies; the kind you find on the snack tray in the fellowship hall before church a service.   I looked at the Oreo knockoffs, nodded that I understood, and waited, expecting a punchline.   He shrugged and dumped them into a ziplock and crammed them in his pack, next to a few tuna packets and instant oatmeal.  His friend exclaimed from the trash can just outside the entrance of the grocery store.

“Dude somebody bought Triscuits!” He was gazing into the recepticle, full of hiker trash.

“Amateurs.” muttered Redbeard as he pulled the lid from a pint of Edys Moose Tracks. Continue reading