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There Was a Railroad Line On the Road to Hell

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Another day, another non-restful night of sleep. I don’t know what’s been going on recently. Well, I kind of do, it’s definitely just the humidity kicking my ass. That and the constant need to wake up at 5 every day. I don’t know what’s happened, but I always need to wake up to pee, like I’m someone 40 years older than I actually am. In the woods, it’s not too bad. I usually crawl out of the tent about five feet, and can pee wherever. But the hassle of going to the bathroom (which… in most hostels… is down a set of stairs. My knees!), and then getting back into bed makes it worse in hostels for some reason. I can’t really explain it.

Anyways, someone’s probably not happy that half the time, all I do in these blog posts is potty talk. But it’s a huge part of the trail :).

Today, I also got woken up at 5 by a Southbounder asking where the coffee was. Ha… ha… ow my head. Being woken up early doesn’t help much more. But it was good to get up early anyways. The shuttle back to the trailhead’s at 7:45, and I still need to make my own breakfast.

That’s my one (small) complaint about Wise Pines, for a hostel that’s so far out of town, it’s hard to actually make sure you have enough food for your stay here. And while there is a small farmstand with bagels and stuff (which I greatly appreciated!), I felt between having to pack my pack in the pack shed, and cooking/asking trail angels for help yesterday, and then cooking this morning, I barely had time to get ready. Though, that’s partially my own fault. I could just be more prepared! Otherwise, I had a great night. The space itself was super comfortable, and Chelsea was a great host.

I ate some berries and drank coffee on our way back to the trailhead, where I asked Chelsea a bit about her hike. When she did it in ’17, she did it with a tramily of 12, and sometimes a baker’s dozen! I think about that when I contrast it with my own hike, where I think I’ve slept alone more often than not from Pennsylvania onwards. She actually said if she did it again though, she’d also be in a smaller group. It made me miss having a consistent hiking partner. More on that in a bit.

I have a theory that no one, not even the good ol’ Green Mountain Club, gives a s@#$ about the AT section that doesn’t coincide with the Long Trail. This could be because of conditions, but it felt like the hiking today was terrible, and not because of elevation gain, or mountains, or anything of the sort. No, it was just because I had to wrestle with suboptimal trail conditions for a lot of the day. Tall grass, unmarked paths, no views, and a sweltering heat. Electrolytes and water only did so much to cut through the rapid dehydration I was always experiencing, and just… the feeling of being wet. This is my last day in Vermont, and the only thing I can really say is I think this state actually might rate near the bottom half of my list when all is said and done. 

There’s also just infinite bugs everywhere in Vermont. Even with DEET and a headnet, I still feel like I’m constantly swatting at bugs, and feeling phantom “pricks” all over my body. Every break where I try to eat feels like I’m the meal, not the sandwich I have. My feet are also just giving out. This late in the game, I don’t think most human bodies were meant to do this much. With adequate rest, I think that this amount of exercise could actually be good. But even now, if I took zeroes every other day, I don’t think the training I did before this (which would’ve been the last four months of hiking…) would actually be that productive, given how little rest I’ve had on the way through.

There were a few good things today, there were tons of raspberries on the trail! If I was a week behind, I think I’d be having a veritable feast, but I was still having a great time picking berries everywhere and enjoying them. I also checked FarOut to another pleasant surprise… I saw some comments from Stevie Wonder! Stevie’s another blogger I met at Wood’s Hole who’s doing the ECT this year. He was way far ahead of me until he needed to take 2 weeks off trail, but I’m happy to see him back on and out here again. 

After a bunch of ups and downs, I started the long road walk into West Hartford, a town with… basically nothing in it. There’s nowhere to stay, other than tenting at trail angels, and there’s a library… and that’s about it. There’s also a bridge that people love jumping off of, but to be honest, I’m not a big fan of jumping from bridges. Call me a wuss or something, but I’ve had enough of that in my life.

While here, I ran back into Cosmo and Tallboy, who I met in Duncannon, and Warwick. You might ask “if you keep seeing them, why not hike with them?” Well, they’re doing a much different hike than I am. While they tell people of what they’ve hiked, the honest truth is a tale of yellow blazing. For those unfamiliar with the “coloured” blaze system, we all know that there are White and Blue blazes on the AT. White means you’re on the trail proper, blue means you’re following some sort of side path, usually water. Yellow blazing in this case is either roadwalking, or just straight up hitchhiking/shuttling ahead, while claiming those miles. For me personally, that doesn’t fly. I signed up to hike in the Appalachian MOUNTAINS, not the Appalachian roadways. You could even call me a “purist,” though there was one blue blaze I took for fun instead of the “regular” path (way back in Shenandoah). I don’t mind the yellow blazing too much… but the part I do mind is the constriction of resources for hikers. Those who can skip miles or guarantee where they’re going to be a week ahead can nab hostel/trail angel spots much earlier than I can. This actually will bite me in the butt later today, unfortunately.

The other part I just mind is lying about the mileage, or what you’ve done. But that’s for a different day. I just wish that if people were going to skip, they’d skip ahead of me haha. Like Leo did.

Then again, Hike Your Own Hike. Maybe I judge too deeply. We’re doing different things. But I’m no saint, and if you’re reading this, well, you’re looking for insights into my thoughts. So there they are :).

Anyways, the library was a nice reprieve in Air Conditioning. I stocked up on some nice ice cold water, and then hiked up back into the mountains in some sweltering heat. During this, I ran back into Away! I met him at Duncannon when he was taking a zero, and he’s relatively pure. I think as I took time off with friends and family, he’s caught up, but he’s not in the best way either. He was limping around, trying to combat his own fatigue. Apparently, he thinks he’s come down with a case of Lyme Disease. Which… also made me start worrying, maybe I have it too? I’m a bit of a hypochondriac to be honest, and so suddenly I was thinking back. Am I fatigued because it’s hot… or because I have Lyme? Should my knees hurt this much? Who knows…

I rolled into town decently late, just given how my body’s been failing me again. Near the end of long days, no matter how much I eat, I need to take constant sit breaks to feel ok to walk again. No matter how hard I try, every step feels heavy. It just feels like I can’t control my  body. So at 7, I rolled up to the St. Barnabas Church in Norwich, VT. In Norwich and Hanover, there aren’t any hostels. It’d be too expensive to operate them in the area. Instead, there’s a network of trail angels that allow people into their houses. I actually contacted all of them, but all of them were booked for the night! So instead, I slept in the church basement, and while it was great (they have blueberry bushes outside!), it didn’t feature a shower. And I was SWEATY. Ew.

if you did drum corps with me… well, this feels triggering

At the very least, I was able to order some pizza, and wash up my legs in the bathroom sink, though my body was sore the whole time trying to navigate up to the bathroom, and then out to get some pizza. I ate as much as I could, but also felt sick while doing it. I just don’t do well with eating lots. Mentally, that is.

I’m starting to get scared that my body’s not going to hold up for this journey more than anything. And that’s the last thing I expected. I’m hoping New Hampshire, of all things, saves me. 

(also, to assuage the fears of readers who think that my body won’t hold… I’m in Maine now! So clearly I’ve done something right since then…)

(title lyrics from: Road to Hell II, Hadestown)





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Artificial Intelligence Helped Rescuers Find a Climber’s Remains

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Monviso mountain towers above Turin (Photo: Vittorio Zunino Celotto / Getty Images)

Published August 8, 2025 01:51PM

Back in September 2024, a 64-year-old climber went missing in Italy’s Cottian Alps.

In late July, rescuers finally found his body, using a combination of flying drones and an advanced artificial intelligence software program, according to WIRED Italia.

Nicola Ivaldo, a doctor from Liguria, disappeared on the north face of 12,602-foot Monviso on September 14. Colleagues reported him missing when he failed to show up at work two days later, and search efforts began on September 17.

Ivaldo was an experienced mountaineer, but he was climbing alone. Monviso, which sits near the French border roughly 40 miles southwest of Turin, is a rugged, technical peak.

He also had not told his friends or family his intended route. However, before his disappearance, Ivaldo’s cell phone had connected to a cell tower north of the mountain, so rescuers believed he was attempting to climb Monviso from the north, likely via the peak’s northwest ridge.

Over the next several days, drones, sniffer dogs, and helicopters began poring across the northern and western slopes of Monviso, scouring a search area of 452 acres. But the rugged, dangerous terrain, coupled with bouts of foul weather and poor visibility—wind, rain, fog, and snow—stymied search and rescue efforts. By October, early winter snows had fallen on the mountain, covering any sign of the missing climber’s body. The search for Nicola Ivaldo was called off on October 9.

For nearly a year, the missing doctor’s fate was uncertain. But in late July, two drones, piloted by Italy’s National Alpine and Speleological Rescue Corps (CNSAS) took up the search again.

On the afternoon of July 29, the pair of drones flew over Monviso. During a span of just five hours, they documented almost every inch of the 452-acre search area, taking roughly 2,600 high-definition photographs from 165 feet above the ground. Later that day, these photographs were fed through an artificial intelligence built to recognize variances in color and shape. This software was directed to analyze the photos with specific focus on any irregularities in the landscape.

The AI program analyzed all 2,600 images the same day. What would have taken weeks or months, scanning hundreds of photos with human eyes, took a few hours. The software flagged a series of suspicious spots, including a smattering of bright red pixels that rescuers thought might be Ivaldo’s helmet.

They were right.

Less than three days after the initial drone flights, a recovery helicopter found Ivaldo’s body at approximately 10,335 feet, face down in a couloir high on the north face of Monviso.

One of the two drone pilots, Saverio Isola, told Wired Italia that the miraculous recovery was “a human achievement, but without technology, it would have been an impossible mission.”

Isola explained that Italian rescue crews have been using drones in a similar capacity for roughly five years. “In the recovery operations following the Marmolada glacier tragedy, it allowed us to operate in inaccessible areas and recover all the necessary artifacts,” Isola said. “It prevented the rescuers from risking their lives.” However, artificial intelligence analysis technologies like the kind used in this operation have only been in use for the last eighteen months. These tools were developed by the CNSAS, in coordination with Italy’s civil aviation agency.

Rescue teams across the United States commonly use aerial drones to spot missing hikers, and to scour hundreds of acres of terrain when a helicopter is not readily available. In 2021, a drone equipped with thermal imaging spotted a missing hiker outside of Santa Barbara.

In 2023, a stranded motorist tied his phone to a drone so he could send an SOS message to rescuers.

But using drones in conjunction with artificial intelligence software to scout photographs is not as common.

The CNSAS hopes that in the future, rapid implementation of artificial intelligence analysis could save missing hikers and climbers before it’s too late. In search and rescue missions for living hikers, color and shape recognition software could be combined with thermal imagery analysis. “AI is also able to interpret thermal data, and provide valuable information in just a few hours,” Isola said. While helicopters or ground rescuers are dispatched, the drones could also deliver lifesaving supplies, like food, water, or first aid kits.

Owen Clarke is a freelance outdoor sports writer. He often writes about climbing, but his work also covers motorcycles, long-distance trekking, and environmental conservation. He also authors the dark fantasy series Void Injection and is the founder of the collaborative writing workshop Dead Foot.



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Ranking the Final Three ‘Alone’ Africa Participants

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(Photo: The History Channel)

Published August 8, 2025 01:01PM

Perhaps its the dry air. Maybe it’s the thorny bushes and rocky terrain. Perhaps its the skittish nature of the warthogs, kudu, wildebeest, and other delicious animals roaming the plain.

For whatever reason, Alone Africa has had an attrition rate like no other season in the show’s history. And after 19 days, just three survivalists remain.

And of the three, one appears to be teetering on the edge.

(Spoiler Alert) Nobody tapped out during Alone Africa’s eighth episode, which aired on Thursday, August 7. But all three remaining participants—Katie, Kelsey, and Nathan—faced major setbacks.

Kelsey endured another fruitless hunt, and watched as her warthog jerky—she shot and killed a wild pig back on day 1—dwindled to just ten remaining pieces.

Katie also ventured into the backcountry to kill game, and tracked two wild boars across the bush-covered hills. But they escaped and she came back empty-handed, instead opting to once again eat seeds, berries, and roots that she foraged from the Karoo. To add insult to injury, Katie also was robbed by baboons.

Nathan suffered the worst calamity. For the last few days he’s been building a massive house out of sand and rocks, and on day 22 one of the walls collapsed, rendering the structure useless. Then, while fishing, Nathan’s two baited hooks became snagged at the bottom of a lake. He had to dive to the bottom of the frigid water and was only able to salvage one of the two hooks.

In each obstacle, the three survivalists revealed elements of their personalities and mindsets that, in my mind, are good predictors for how they will fare in the final two episodes. And while I don’t always like fixating on Alone’s eventual winner—the show is about more than just who stays out there the longest—I do believe it’s worthwhile to assess the strengths and weaknesses of the three survivors.

A Capable Hunter

Kelsey has struggled with fish. (Photo: The History Channel)

Kelsey got out to an early lead in Alone Africa by stalking and killing a wild boar on the first day in the bush. Since then, she’s survived by eating the pig meat, which after three weeks is somehow still there.

The kill showed us just how talented Kelsey is with a recurve bow, and how accomplished she is at cleaning and processing a carcass amid an extreme environment. And huge kudos to her for her innovative water storage system, which has allowed her to venture into the backcountry without having to boil potable water all of the time.

But Kelsey’s major weakness appears to be the mindset that has crept in during the last few episodes. She doesn’t deal with setbacks very well, and has a hard time rebounding from calamity. It’s totally understandable, especially with hunger and malnutrition becoming a daily obstacle.

We saw this back in episode 3 when Kelsey’s shelter was flooded during a downpour. It was obviously a very traumatic and terrifying ordeal—one that other participants navigated as well. But since then, setbacks have really gotten to her.

Kelsey has sought positive energy from the animals she’s seen in the bush. But these bursts of happiness seem to be fleeting.

She’s also tripping into the pitfall that Woniya Thibeault wrote about in her most recent Alone column, which is thinking about her friends, pets, and life back home. As Woniya explained—[colon (:) When] when the mind wanders to normal everyday life, it’s a sign that the survivalist no longer enjoys living in the backcountry.

The All-Star Forager 

Katie has been surviving off of foraged plants (Photo: The History Channel)

Katie, meanwhile, seems entirely focused on her life in the Great Karoo desert. Like the others, she’s faced multiple setbacks: flooding, bad days of fishing, and a monkey stealing her warm hat. But after each challenge, Katie has responded with an extremely pragmatic and positive attitude.

Of the three, Katie seems like the one who has most embraced life in the Karoo. It feels like it’s her permanent home, and not just the site of a very challenging camping trip. And Katie has, for the most part, focused on her life out here and not on the one she temporarily left back home in Australia.

She’s turned her attention to other tasks, like building a windscreen for her shelter. And she’s also displayed highly advanced foraging skills that are far beyond that of any other participant on Alone Africa. She’s stayed alive for three weeks primarily by eating the native flora: acacia seeds, mint, prickly pear cactus, and roots.

In episode 8 we saw her forage native garlic and allium vineale, a wild onion, for a soup. She also ground grass seeds into a porridge, which she soaked and ate for breakfast. It was an impressive meal considering it lacked any fish or red meat.

But Katie’s weakness is the lack of protein in her diet. She caught a fish back on day 1, but since then has only eaten plants. And all of the foraging skills and the world’s most positive mindset, alas, won’t be able to overcome food insecurity of that level.

The Problem Solver

Nathan’s house fell over (Photo: The History Channel)

Of the three, Nathan is in the strongest position to win. He semi-regularly hauls in massive catfish from the lake near his camp. He has a temporary and a budding permanent shelter. And he has a problem-solving attitude that’s helped him navigate several setbacks.

Nathan can credit this mindset with his advantage in food. Earlier in the season he struggled to catch fish—the meaty catfish in his lake were biting through the fishing line. Nathan innovated. He doubled up the fishing line twice, then braided it together, essentially creating a super-duper mega-strong line that was capable of holding the big creatures. Since then, he’s hauled in at least four giant catfish, which can feed him for several days.

Nathan’s biggest setback came in episode 8, when the rock house he was constructing fell over. I worried that the calamity would send him into a mental spiral. After all, he’s expended considerable energy building the structure, which now appears to be ruined. But Nathan simply sat with the problem, worked it over, and found a way to continue. He also brought this energy to his stuck fish hooks. Despite losing one, he rebounded.

The access to fish, plus the positive mindset, make Nathan a heavy favorite. Sure, Nathan may get sick, suffer an injury, or simply get outlasted by Katie or Kelsey. If I were able to place a bet on Alone at a Las Vegas casino, I’d put $100 on him.



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‘The Road Less Eaten’ Explores Aquaculture in Three Maine Towns

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Chef Biju in Camden, Maine (Photo: The Road Less Eaten)

Published August 8, 2025 12:28PM

In the latest episode of The Road Less Eaten, chef and host Biju Thomas visits three coastal towns in Maine, where life has been shaped by the land, the sea, and as Thomas says, “the people who make a living from both.”

There is a term for this in the East: aquaculture. Along the coast in towns like Freeport, Camden, and Biddeford, aquaculture knits together communities, grows local and larger economies, and cares for the planet.

Thomas explores itand coastal life in Maine by learning from a kelp harvester, walking on (yes, on) acres of wild blueberry farms, and by sitting with award-winning chefs and cocktail engineers who all understand that along the coast of Maine, it’s not just about the food; it’s about the feeling.

Freeport

 

If you’re visiting Maine, you’ve probably got your mind set on lobster and oysters, but Maine’s food story runs much deeper.

Freeport, a shoe-making and ship-building hub that later turned into a food haven, as drawn world-wide attention for harvesting something much less common: kelp.

Ken Sparta, owner of Spartan Sea Farms and the Freeport Oyster Bar, harvests different kinds of kelp (sugar, skinny, winged) alongside oysters. Most know about oysters, but kelp? It’s nutrient rich, and if harvested right, tasty enough to be a main dish, not just a versatile ingredient.

Kelp is planted in Maine in the fall when the water temperature drops below 50 degrees Fahrenheit. When the temperature rises, the kelp is taken out of the water and driven into town. Fifty thousand pounds of kelp were harvested during the 2025 season in Freeport, Maine.

But what Ken geeks out about the most is the fact that harvesting kelp takes nitrogen and oxygen out of the water, therefore lowering ocean citification and making our planet more sustainable.

“I’m making food for my friends and family and making the ocean a better place,” he says.

Back at Freeport Oyster Bar, Thomas takes on kelp tacos and burgers. “If somebody didn’t tell me I wasn’t eating meat, I wouldn’t have known,” he says. Vodka is sustainably harvested from sugar kelp and distilled in small batches to sell at the bar, too.

Camden

 

 

Like Freeport, the small coastal town of Camden was once a 19th century ship-building hub, a protected harbor that eventually brought in artists and foodies alongside sailers. Camden quickly became known for its wild trails, blueberry farms and a food scene deeply rooted in tradition.

“Come late summer, the hills turn a deep, brilliant blue,” Thomas says, walking acres of wild blueberry farm alongside the owner of Brodis Blueberries, Jeremey Howard. “Wild blueberries aren’t the big plump ones you find at the grocery store,” Jeremy says. “They’re smaller, bright, with complex flavor.”

Brodis Blueberries has been running for nine generations, but the blueberries have been growing wild in this part of Maine for 10,000 plus years, though not a single patch was planted, Jeremy says.

“When the glaciers receded, they pushed away the fertile soil, and the only things that liked the acidic, ledgy soil, were blueberries.” Ron Howard, Jeremy’s father, explains how the different shades are different wild plants. Each is genetically different. These wild blueberries genetically modify on their own as they grow and thrive. There’s no need to mess with them.

Thomas tours Barren’s Distillery + Restaurant, where the shelves are stocked with blueberry gin, blueberry vodka, blueberry brandy, and more. The blueberries go through the fermentation process, and when they are complete mesh, (which is a wine at that point) they are put into a still that extracts the alcohol vapors.

“It tastes like booze with a kick of sweetness at the end, with the brandy warmth to it,” Thomas says.

Thomas also meets up with Jeremy’s business partner, Andrew Stewart on a trail run. “Apparently here, we hydrate with distilled fruit, then go run up a mountain,” Thomas jokes. The trails are closer to the ocean, and the views are unreal.

Chef Biju in Camden, Maine (Photo: The Road Less Eaten)

Stewarthelped launch Barren’s waterfront restaurant downtown. It’s become known for its seafood classics alongside its full line-up of blueberry spirits.

Biddeford

 

Along the Saco river, the town of Biddeford draws in the artistic and the young. It’s a hip, developing area that once stood out in the booming textile industry through the 1900s. Those same mills are now full of chefs and artisans like Kate and Jason Hamm, co-owners of Fish and Whistle, and semi finalists in James Beard awards’ emerging chef category.

Fish and Whistle’s main event is its fish and chips, but the happenin’ new place also serves up some seriously unique sandwiches, like the “squidwhich,” a sandwich full of squid, swallowed up by scored and fried milk bread, and smothered in marina and hot cherry peppers a seafood lover’s dream.

All the seafood at Fish and Whistle is caught fresh from the gulf of Maine, the couple says.

Thomas also visits Magnus on Water, where he chats with Brian chats with Brian “Cat” Catapang, director of beverage working alongside owner of the place, Julia Russell, to create an incredibly experience for those bustling through Biddeford.

Russell sees Magnus on Water as a neighborhood bar and destination restaurant. It is one of only 37 bars (of 10 in the U.S.) recognized by the pinnacle guide to excellence in cocktail craft.

Thomas joins Catapang as he explains how the “couch surfer” was born, the restaurant’s bread and butter, and a love letter to Maine.

“I would go to the beach and check for surf, if I got skunked, I started collecting some of the high tide water to make some sea salt in house,” Catapang says. “The beach has magical properties that no one tells you about.”

Carrying five-gallon buckets during high tide, Catapang brings fresh salt water back into the restaurant to cook down and add to fresh pineapple juice and egg whites for stabilization. The liquor is made with poblano peppers, creating that zippy experience, just like waves that can pull you under.

 

Chef Rafael Zimmerman of Magnus on Water, serves Biju the restaurant’s most popular dishes. (Photo: The Road Less Eaten)

Magnus on Water’s chef, Rafael Zimmerman, is constantly experimenting with Peruvian comfort food that makes for a fun menu. During his visit, Thomas tries the restaurant’s most popular dishes and is most impressed by the roasted cabbage, because its flavors catch him by surprise.

There is an energy forming in Biddeford, but not just there, in every quaint town with aquaculture at its core. There is a shared respect for tradition and nature, and for creative dishes and drink that truly embody coastal living.

Watch now



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