An Introduction (or: What I Know of Me so Far)

The name matters not, but I’m what they call Funnybone. (If they call at all.) A willing prisoner of an insatiable appetite for escapism, I’m a man (he/him/they/she/her/tree) out of step with his time, an analog relic in a digital world, living a vow of voluntary minimalism and simplicity in an unduly complex, human-centric Orwellian landscape--whatever all that means. Always on the go, but slow. A drifter. (This is what happens when your family tree is made of driftwood.)

I’m half Czech (the top half) and 100% ugly. A remorsefully divorced soloist. (I wasn’t the man I vowed to be.) I’m terminally and reluctantly single, forever decathecting from others. A tri-polar anomic, living out of a backpack. (It’s tight inside one.) I sleep where I can, hoping to see what I can before my shell’s expiration date. An only child…with four siblings. Damaged goods, thanks to damaged parents. A proud underachiever/idler and prouder tax evader/conscientious objector. A washed up athlete who now rarely washes up. A poor elitist.  An aspiring rock star. An off-duty Americano, with no formal education. An incurable overthinker with no OFF switch. A lost soul, and maybe a lost cause. Never been counted in a census; I’m a nobody and nobody cares.

This dusty corner of the World Wide Cobweb shall be my log crossing the Appalachian Trail, a sort-of adventure scrapbook. Pabulum, mental masturbation, brain flatulence. Oh, yeah: I’ve decided to exchange society’s serious nonsense for a lighter-hearted nonsense; I’ve decided to have a go at the AT. I have a sock drawer full of bad ideas.

Having survived abortion, I was handed down the recycled, real-world name of Charles, free man. It’s a lame name, but it was forced upon me by people much bigger than me at the time. I was dubbed Funnybone in the early aughts, on the Best Crest. That was my maiden long-haul hike, my first semester at PCT University, a decade before Wild pummeled the path; it pays to be early. I loved trail life--there’s time enough to observe the details--and I’ve been nature drunk and high ever since. (Your first thru-hike lasts the rest of your life. And one great hike deserves another. Everything in moderation, except walking.) I tolerated the moniker enough to keep it. If it matters, THIS is how ‘twas bestowed.

If it continues to matter, I’ve kept online accounts of prior travel adventures. Two can be found here:

• HERE’s about my boggy slog along the Pennine Way, in late ‘12. (I’m an incurable Anglophile. As an American I’m proud to be British.)
• HERE’s my journal from my second thru-hike of the 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail. (I’ll try anything twice.) It is the most read account on the now crap-site trailjournals.com, which never ceases to surprise me. The ‘06 trip stays fresh in mind, making me realize just how rapidly the years roll by.

One aim on the AT, besides extracting as much life as possible and not merely checking the trail off--failure’s a fine option--is to record the journey. And keep it all under one roof. This’ll be that roof, holes and all. Some ancient philosopher once said, “to record something in words is to experience life a second time.” The writing gives the experience an additional layer of depth and meaning, I hope.

The Eeyore within assures me no one gives a donkey’s ass about what I’ve to say--just as I don’t--that blogs are prosaic and technologically primitive compared to that yearbook for life, that noisy, irksome social experience called Facebook. But ultimately I write and roam for one jackass, to (ideally) get to know him better. It is here I can look back, when, or if, the time comes.

Funnybone / Chuckie V Veylupek

Currently Colorado-confined (living at a friend’s, because it’s super free)

Divided States of Americuh

Pi Day (a shout out to E.A.!), 2013

PS: I’m not the final authority on anything I write during this trip. Nor am I responsible for it.

A Bit About This Blog (A Warning for Wimps)

In years past I have earned much criticism for my writing. This makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. But in reading old censure, and in ending my introductory entry with a word of caution, I’ve decided to spell out further warnings for those requiring them. Sally forth, intrepid traveler.

A Bit About This Blog…

1: May be unsuitable for some (or all) viewers. May be unsuitable to any (or all) listeners, in the event Funnybone posts any audio or music he writes en route. Enter at your own risk. Wear your big kid pants. Ask your doctor if Funnybone is right for you.

2: Except in the instance above Funnybone mostly never refers to himself in the third person.

3: Don’t take anything I say seriously, nor what my alter-egos express; we don’t. (We’re merely nearly sincerely.) Mileage may differ, timing may differ, I may differ. I have strong, semi-educated opinions and express them often, but I do not necessarily agree with ‘em.

4: This is not a tale of personal growth, except when I make mention of my boner.

5: Since we all despise salespeople, there are no pitches or purveyors or ads or affiliate links here. I’m not trying to sell squat.

6: Blogger does not yet offer their services in Braille, so I’d like to apologize in advance to any blind readers. Again, I may post an audio entry or two, if I don’t become nauseated hearing my recorded voice.

6.2 (10K) Since this is to be a blog about a slog, I will likely employ the use of many "foot"notes (note the bottom of this post). I tend also to post relevant and irrelevant links along the way.

7: I had written some pre-hike entries, only to remove all but one or two; they added nothing to the narrative, or what I hope becomes the narrative. Although I almost believe in nothing--a part-time nihilist; note the license plate--it’s best to have something to write.

8: You’ll learn I suffer from authoritis. I fire loads of ammo. Blanks, mostly. I expect to on this walk as well, if the legs last. Last, legs.

9: Note: this is a Kardashian-free website. I will not accept their family name into this blog. If you are a Kartrashycan, I am truly sorry.

10: Past journals taught me; I no longer post reader comments(1). I generally don’t like what people have to say, particularly unkind or uneducated folk, of whom Earth knows no dearth. I apologize to kind commenters (if any) who deem it an inconvenience, but be assured: it’s nothing like the inconvenience these long trails are. 

Thank you. Does anybody have any questions?

My spud-boy plates and soon-to-expire registration

"Foot"note 1: If you’d like to reach me, to express, for example, your outrage, I’m afraid (but not that afraid) you will have to do so by smoke signal.

The AT's Many States

2,186 miles of what now?

The Appalachian Trail slices through fourteen states, along with a few others I currently know of:

• State of Deep Fatigue
• State of Confusion
• State of Awe

I hope to go through each of these states; I have the maps. (Incidentally, these places are all capitalized not for effect--capitalization is generally a no-no when in bullet form--but because they are indeed places, not emotions.)  

The State of Fatigue is expected; no long backpacking trip can transpire without it. And although I was once an endurance athlete, paid to do really dumb things--money for nothing--it’s been during these long treks I’ve reached the deepest fatigue canyons I have ever experienced. Maybe it’s because sleep is never all that deep--think cold, bumpy ground, with big, sharp-toothed animals lurking under the umbrage of darkness--or maybe it’s because of the lousy diet. Or maybe it’s because of the behemoth upon thy back. In any case, the hiker befriends fatigue, or the state will likely be the last one the hiker reaches, prior to ending the hike. Or his life.

Confusion is also figured upon; no one in his or her right mind would choose to wear a backpack for twenty-two hundred miles. These are confused individuals to begin.

States the AT incurs...

Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.

Other states the trail will incur (and/or induce)...

• Contempt
• Suffering
• Paranoia
• Flux
• Hostility
• Doubt
• Anger
• Grief
• Disgust
• Sadness
• Homesickness
• Loneliness
• Anxiety/Fear
• Boredom
• Hunger (this is a guarantee)
• Hysteria
• Depression
• Aggression
• Horror
• Embarrassment
• Frustration
• Mindlessness

Of course, they’re not all negative states; there will likely be states of...

• Ecstasy
• Surprise
• Affection
• Love (Lust)
• Pleasure
• Hope
• Compassion
• Euphoria
• Gratitude
• Interest
• Forgiveness
• Pride
• Sympathy

One thing’s for sure. I will try my best not to go through the following states...

• Hatred
• Guilt
• Regret
• Remorse
• Shame
• Pity
• Envy
• Ambivalence

The AT is a metaphor for life itself; I suspect I’ll experience all these states and more, shoehorning more life, more emotion, into the next handful of months than some folks do during their lifetimes. The Appalachian Trail: Hallowed Be Thy Name. Time for a long walk.