Baby Backpacking: 6 Months Old

Baby Backpacking: 6 Months Old

Baby’s first backpacking trip!! In this post I’ll talk about my first overnight backpacking adventure with my 6 month old baby (I’ll refer to her as “Acorn” for the purposes of this blog) and her daddy (his first backpacking trip in 15 years!). I also include a baby-specific gear list at the end of the post.

Baby backpacking with a six month old that is very happy in her Mini Mo sleeping bag


If Acorn had been a spring or summer baby, I’m sure we would have taken her out backpacking sooner but instead she was born on a late fall evening and we’ve navigated through the cold New England winter and early spring with lots of walks and the occasional hike.

Although I would have loved to take her out backpacking sooner, there were two things holding me back. First, I couldn’t imagine taking her out for an overnight with below freezing temperatures yet (i.e., I wanted to make sure that there would be absolutely zero risk of frostbite). Second, almost all of the baby backpacking gear I found was for ages six months and up. For example, her baby sleeping bag, a Morrison Mini Mo 20 degree bag ( 9 oz; ages 6 months to 24 months) that I bought her for Christmas, and her KidCo Peapod Plus (ages 6 months to 5 years) that we got as a hand-me down and that we use to create a safe baby sleep environment in my tent (it is essentially a tent within a tent).

The setup for our baby backpacking trip showing the mommy and baby sleep areas within my old Copper Spur UL3 tent showing the KidCo PeaPod Plus

As Acorn’s half-birthday approached I started stalking the weather forecast in much the same way that I stalked the weather when planning my solo winter ascents of Mt. Washington. For Acorn’s first backpacking trip I was looking for a day without any rain in the forecast and with overnight lows of at least 40… not an easy feat in April in New England. As luck would have it, the only day within the 10 day forecast that met my criteria was the exact day that Acorn turned 6 months old. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than with our first family backpacking trip! :)

Forecast Day 1: Cloudy with a high of 55 and a low of 41

Forecast Day 2: Sunny with a high of 65

In addition to weather, the other big consideration for this inaugural backpacking trip was the destination. I was looking for something nearby, no more than a couple of miles of hiking along easy terrain in case we needed to bail out and head home in the middle of the night, and somewhere without many other people in case Acorn didn’t like the experience and decided to scream the whole time we packed up and hiked out. After much consideration and a phone call with the local land manager we decided on an option that was a short drive from where we were staying and had an easy hike of about a mile each way to where we were going to camp and then another short hike to an overlook with some of the best views around. The area is beautifully remote, uncrowded, and the locals prefer to keep it that way so I won’t be disclosing the location in this post.

Baby Backpacking: Day 1

Despite all my careful packing and planning, a couple of hours before we were scheduled to set off on our adventure the weather forecast become more ominous with the predicted clouds suddenly predicted to produce rain during the exact window of time when we were going to be hiking and setting up camp… definitely not ideal! Although my spirits were slightly dampened, we adopted a wait and see attitude. Especially since the forecast seemed to be changing in accordance to the old adage, “if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute, it’ll change”.

In the meantime I loaded Acorn into the carrier, put on my raincoat, and flipped my full pack onto my back. I was concerned that the overlap of the backpacking straps and the carrier might be uncomfortable, but was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t seem to interfere with each other. I was so excited about carrying my pack and my baby at the same time that I decided to take a quick stroll up the driveway to see how it felt in motion… good, all good. The only awkward bit was getting the hip belt of my pack strapped, but it ended up fitting best under the baby but over the wide part of the carrier waist band.

As the time to load the car and leave approached the sky was looking rather gray and dreary, but the forecast rain was no where to be seen and the radar made it look like the storm was going to miss us so we decided we’d give it a go. One of the advantages of the short drive and short hike was that if the weather turned we could change our mind at any moment and head back home without too much trouble.

The drive to the trailhead was dry and as we donned the baby and the backpacks the skies remained dry and we thought that maybe, just maybe, the rain would completely miss us. Of course we were wrong. Barely ten steps into the hike and I began to hear the telltale pitter patter or rain filtering through the trees and a few minutes later the cool drizzle filtered down to us.

“If it starts to pour we turn around, right?” I said/asked my partner.

“Right,” he agreed.

“I’m ok continuing with it like this though… Are you?” I continued, wanting to make sure I wasn’t dragging him into a situation he was uncomfortable with.

“Yeah, this isn’t too bad,” he replied unphased.

Despite the short-lived shower, it felt great to be out on the trail again. I’d missed backpacking, and even with the added weight of the baby and the extra body weight my postpartum body still carried, I still felt at home with the pack on my back.

At the first stream crossing we spotted a beaver in the swamp beside the trail, less than ten feet away from us. It’s probably the closest I’ve ever been to a beaver. We stopped and watched it swim alongside the trail. It gave us a glance, glided across the water, and then slick as anything it dove under the surface and disappeared. It seemed an auspicious start to our trip.

Close up of mom and baby smiling on the trail

As we hiked out and set up camp we were sprinkled on with a bit if rain here and there, but nothing constant and nothing too heavy. Just enough to make us question our sanity, but by the time we got to our campsite it was easy to imagine it might start clearing soon. 

In fact, by the time we finished setting up camp golden hour sun was breaking through the clouds and intermittently tickling the tops of nearby trees.

With hope of catching a glimpse of that sun, and the sunset, we decided to hike to the top of the nearby Vista to catch a view before bed. We knew setting off that our return hike would be a night hike, but we were prepared for that and it’s a hike that we’ve done after dark before.

The family, mom, dad, and baby, at the overlook

Unfortunately the bright warm sun that had lured us from our campsite quickly gave way to darkening clouds and gusty winds. The views from the overlook were still stunning, but it was too cold and exposed to stop, nurse the baby, and change her diaper from the view spot as we’d originally intended.

A panoramic view from the overlook showing mom, baby, and the body of water in the background

As a result, the return to the campsite was epic and constituted Acorn’s first night hike. She was a bit fussy, so I stopped and did a middle of the trail diaper change, then a few minutes later Daddy did a mid-trail bottle feeding.

Eventually we made it back to our tents and settled in for the night. I nursed the baby, then gave her a bottle, and we snuggled her while we settled into some snacks of our own before finalizing our sleep arrangements for the night.

Believe it or not, we’d actually carried 4 tents with us on our little backpacking trip if you count the baby’s tent: the Peapod Plus (3.5 lbs), the Ultamid UL4 (1.4 lbs), the Copper Spur UL3 (~ 4 lbs), and my Fly Creek Platinum UL2 (1.7 lbs). Acorn would sleep in the Peapod Plus with mom in either the Ultamid or the Copper Spur and dad would sleep in either the Copper Spur or the Fly Creek UL2. Even as we set off for our hike to the overlook I was thinking that I’d sleep in the Ultamid with Acorn, but at the last minute I opted for sleeping in the Copper Spur UL3 since I wanted Acorn to have complete bug protection and didn’t want to have to zip and unzip her Peapod every time I wanted to check up on her in the night. That left Daddy in the Fly Creek UL2.

As we settled into our respective tents for the night Acorn smiled up at me from her sleeping bag, grinning ear to ear and showing no signs of sleep as I went through our nighttime bedtime routine. Then I smelled the tell tale scent of poop… Really? COULD I really smell poop through the diaper, through the fleece pajamas, and through the 800 fill down 20 degree sleeping bag? Yes, yes I could!

I was pretty happy with my diaper changing setup and can tell you happily that no poop got onto the down bag during the changing of the baby. Phew!

I lay down in my sleeping bag in my tent, next to my daughter in hers and we looked at each other and smiled. What a wonderful feeling. I reached over set my hand reassuringly on her chest and she slowly drifted off to sleep, rubbing her eyes occasionally.

After she fell asleep I lay there in the dark, serenaded by the peepers, the wood frogs, and an occasional owl and slowly drifted off to sleep too.


Excerpt from my journal entry for the night:

I awake to the sounds of a muffled baby whimper. It’s pitch black. I open my eyes, see nothing, and reach into the baby tent to make sure Acorn is ok. I grab onto what I think is her arm and move on searching for her head. I find what I think is another arm, but still no head where it is supposed to be. At this point I have a second of panic that wakes me all the rest the way up. I grab her incredibly poofy torso and pull her into my lap. She rolls towards me, rooting, and I realize her head is just fine, she’d just rotated herself 270 degrees in the tent and is hungry. What I thought were arms were legs.

I take out her pacifier and she peacefully adjusts her head to latch onto my breast and begins nursing immediately. I was worried her face might be cold because mine is, but it seems she’s perfectly cozy. It’s cold enough that the peepers have stopped now, but the wood frogs songs continue into the night. I listen as I nurse and it is beautiful and everything is right with the world, backpacking with a baby at my breast.

Acorn is back to sleep in her tent. Hopefully I’ll follow suit soon!

In the Morning

Much to my surprise Acorn seemed just as happy sleeping in her backpacking tent as in her crib at home. She woke to nurse in the middle of the night and then again as all the birds began their morning cacophony of songs. I listened to the birds singing outside the tent while Acorn nursed sweetly. Acorn opened her eyes and lifted her head startled by the staccato tapping of a woodpecker in one of the trees overhead.

“That’s a Piliated woodpecker,” I explained as she looked up at me questioningly, “It’s ok” I reassured her, and she finished nursing and fell back to sleep. I put her back into her tent and fell back to sleep too.

Finally it was time to get up and get moving and I awoke to find Acorn smiling at me from her tent. I picked her up, nursed her, and then Daddy brought me a freshly warmed bottle to top her off.

After taking care of Acorn we got up, lounged about a bit and had a wonderful breakfast of Mountain House Raspberry Crumble and Earl Grey tea. Acorn was a bit hungrier than usual and nursed a bit as we packed everything up and got ready to go.

It was such a beautiful day that I was reluctant to leave the woods, so I savored every minute of it. Besides it was such a short hike back to the car we tacked on another short hike to check out my favorite trail for spotting mayflowers on the way home.

All in all, our first backpacking adventure was a success and we’re looking forward to our next one!

Baby-Specific Backpacking Gear List

Baby backpacking gear including Morrison Outdoors 20 degree sleeping bag, KidCo Peapod Plus Baby Sleep Tent, baby ground cloth, diaper bag, formula, ultralight baby book, change of baby cloths, and a Tula Baby carrier
The 7.5 lbs (3.4 kg) of baby-specific backpacking gear we carried for an overnight backpacking trip with a six month old in April in New England with forecast overnight lows of 40F (4C)

We ended up carrying 7.5 lbs of baby-specific gear, most of which was the 3.5 lbs KidCo Peapod Plus baby tent/safe baby sleep space. This was convenient as a completely contained bug-proof space to put the baby while we were pitching the other tents and setting up camp, and also a contained sleep space within the tent for our overnight adventure.

Baby Gear (7.5 lbs):

  • Safe Sleeping Space (3.5 lbs): KidCo Peapod Plus (ages: 6 months – 5 years)
    • Note: A popular lighter weight and less expensive alternative is the KiloFly Toddler (1.4 lbs)
  • Sleeping Bag (9 oz): Morrison Outdoors Little Mo 20C Down Sleeping Bag (ages: 6 months – 2 years)
    • Note: For warmer weather the Morrison Outdoors Little Mo 40C Synthetic Sleeping bag (15 oz) is an option
  • Baby Carrier (1.7 lbs): Tula Explore Baby Carrier (ages: 7lbs to 45lbs or newborn to toddlerhood)
    • Note: this carrier is cotton so definitely not ideal for wet weather
  • Baby Ground Cloth (2.9 oz): Small tyvek sheet with animal print on it
  • Baby Diaper Bag (16 oz): A gallon-sized ziploc containing
    • 5- fresh diapers (5 oz)
    • wipes (4 oz)
    • hand sanitizer (1.2 oz)
    • disposable changing pad (0.8 oz)
    • 2- pacifiers (0.5 oz)
    • 2 teething toys (2.6 oz)
    • Backup formula (0.7 oz)
    • Ziploc bag for dirty diapers (0.4 oz)
    • “Indestructable” Spanish-English Book for Bedtime Routine (0.7 oz)
  • Baby Clothes Bag (5 oz): A gallon-sized ziploc containing
    • Extra Fleece pajamas
    • Lightweight hat
    • Heavyweight hat
    • Burp Cloth

Since we were “dry camping” (camping without a water source) and I triple feed (supplementing breastfeeding with pumped breastmilk and formula) we carried two pre-mixed 4 oz. bottles full of formula with us as well.

In general I was happy with all of the baby gear we carried and for our next overnight am planning to carry pretty much the same set of gear. I was a little bit worried that the 20C down sleeping bag might be too warm for Acorn, but it ended up being just right… also down and baby seemed like a potentially bad combination, but it didn’t end up being a problem. If the overnight lows start creeping up towards the upper 50s we’ll switch to the synthetic 40C Mini Mo bag.

For longer trips backpacking trips I’m concerned that the cotton baby Tula might not be the best option since cotton and backpacking don’t traditionally make for the best combination. I’d definitely be interested to hear what other backpacking moms are using for a baby carrier along with their full pack. I’m also looking into baby raingear options in case we run into wetter weather.

Check out my posts about hiking and backpacking while I was pregnant with Acorn:

Backpacking Bondcliff: 7 Months Pregnant

Backpacking Bondcliff: 7 Months Pregnant

A photo of a 7 months pregnant backpacker with a giant smile on her face getting ready to crawl into her tent after a long day of hiking. The backdrop shows a lush green forest

I decided to celebrate the beginning of my third trimester with a 3-day solo backpacking trip to one of my favorite 4000 footers in the White Mountains of New Hampshire: Bondcliff (elev. 4265′). There’s not doubt about it, backpacking while pregnant adds some extra challenges, but for me it has been totally worth it!

For my trip up Bondcliff, I decided to take a slow and steady approach, breaking what I might normally do in one or two challenging days into a much more manageable 3-day trip. This allowed me to take the extra time my much heavier than usual body needed to do the hike and to have fun with it. The rewards for my efforts were a few gorgeous days enjoying the wilderness and then the spectacular views from the summit of Bondcliff :)

Pregnant backpacker sitting at the edge of Bondcliff

Trip Report: Bondcliff Backpacking Out-and-Back

  • Date: August, 2021
  • Activity: 3-Day Solo Backpacking Trip
  • Difficulty Level: Strenuous
  • Trail Name(s): Bondcliff via the Pemigewasset Wilderness and Franconia Falls (~18.8 miles total)
    • Day 1: Lincoln Woods Trail (2.8 miles, relatively flat) to the Wilderness Trail (1.8 miles, relatively flat) to dispersed camping on the Bondcliff Trail.
    • Day 2: Bondcliff Trail to the Summit of Bondcliff (~4.4 miles, almost all of the elevation) then back down to dispersed camping along the Bondcliff Trail (~4.4 miles)
    • Day 3: Wilderness Trail (1.8 miles, relatively flat), then the out-and-back to Franconia Falls (0.8 miles roundtrip), and finally the Lincoln Woods trail back to the car (~2.8 miles, relatively flat).
  • Location: Pemigewasset Wilderness, White Mountains National Forest, New Hampshire
  • Access and Amenities: Parking available at Lincoln Woods trailhead with a $5/day parking fee. Flush toilets, running water, and ranger station available at trailhead.
Pregnant backpacker standing at the edge of Bondcliff
The exposed cliffs of Bondcliff Mountain, with me standing out near the edge.

Why Bondcliff Via the Pemi While Pregnant?

There are a lot of different reasons why I chose Bondcliff for my third trimester backpacking trip, and planned it as a three day hike. I discuss five of the reasons below.

Crossing over Franconia Brook as I headed into the Pemigewasset Wilderness

#1. The first, is that the 4.6 miles of trail into the Pemigewasset Wilderness to the base of Bondcliff trail is a very easy hike. I figured that if I hiked out to the base of Bondcliff trail and my body, for whatever reason, wasn’t feeling up to hiking the 4000 footer I could always turnaround and hike back out again and call it a successful backpacking trip even if I didn’t climb the mountain.

Easy, flat terrain along the Wilderness Trail in the Pemigewasset Wilderness

#2. There is an abundance of dispersed backcountry campsites along the Wilderness Trail and the lower part of the Bondcliff trail, so I was able to set up a base camp out of site of the trail and far away from everyone else. This allowed me to leave most of my backpacking gear at my campsite while I did the more challenging hike up the Bondcliff Trail carrying nothing more than I would usually carry for a day hike. Since pregnancy has made me much heavier, slower, and more easily out of breath, I appreciated climbing the extra elevation without the additional weight of my full backpacking gear. (For those interested in the details, I actually ended up choosing a backcountry site on the far side of Black Creek about a mile up the Bondcliff Trail.)

The rockier terrain of Bondcliff Trail, including a large number of stone steps

#3. Unlike most 4000 footers in the White Mountains, the trail up Bondcliff requires very little hand-over-foot scrambling, and it doesn’t include any boulder fields. It is mostly a slow, steep, and steady climb the whole way up. Though the stone stairs gain enough altitude to ensure a hearty workout, the trail isn’t nearly as rugged as a lot of the other trails and not quite as hard on the knees. Given the extra weight and joint issues associated with pregnancy this made it a relatively good option as 4000 footers go. Although some trail descriptions mention a section of Class IV terrain near the summit, there is really just one spot that requires you to climb up a steep section of rock which has large slope-y steps that have been blasted/carved into it. I found it to be easy to navigate even with my bulkier body (caveat, if you are hiking with a dog it could be tricky trying to carry the dog up the steps).

The trickiest section of the Bondcliff Trail, which is maybe a 10 – 12 foot section you literally have to climb

#4. Did I mention that the summit has some of the most spectacular views in the White Mountains? The cliffs themselves are very cool, and you get a 360 degree view of the surrounding mountains including the Franconia Range and the rest of the Bonds. For people who are feeling energetic, two additional 4000 footers can easily be included in the hike (both Bond and West Bond). However, I decided to take it easy and despite my early arrival a the summit decided to lounge at the summit for a couple of hours enjoying the view and a surprising amount of solitude for one of the White Mountains most spectacular summits. (Most of the time I was up there I was only sharing the summit with one other person; thank you to my fellow hikers that graciously agreed to snap the photos of me standing at the summit cliff).

Happily standing at the edge of the cliff enjoying the gravid-y of the situation before heading back down

#5. Although the Lincoln Woods Trail is one of the most popular hiking trails in the Whites, a midweek hike beyond it to the Wilderness Trail and Bondcliff Trail can allow you to escape the crowds and appreciate some of the quiet and solitude that the Wilderness has to offer. The place that I chose to camp allowed me to get far enough off of the beaten path, and to have enough staggered timing, so that I was able to stop on multiple occasions and appreciate the fact the the only sounds were the occasional chirping of the birds and the gentle breeze above my head. That kind of quiet is becoming more and more rare in the NorthEast.

A quiet patch of wilderness

Final Thoughts

As my pregnancy progresses, the nature of the hikes and trips I feel comfortable taking is evolving with my body. In general, I’ve found that I need to reduce my daily mileage, need to hydrate more, eat more frequently, provide more support for my joints, and take more frequent breaks while pregnant. I also spend more time considering bail out plans (just in case) and am starting to choose less remote hikes. Although I’m planning on beginning to taper down to less rigorous treks, I’m hoping that with the support of my friends, loved ones, and health care providers I’ll have the opportunity to get in some more hiking in before the baby comes :)

A happy pregnant backpacker with a full pacl.
A happy hiker heading out of the Pemi

P.S. I’ve made a number of modifications to my pack and gear to help accommodate my ever changing pregnant body, and the lack of maternity hiking clothes generally available on the market. I’m planning on saving that discussion for an upcoming post, but for now, one of the most useful modifications I’ve found is to use a padded seatbelt cover over the band of the hip belt and to tighten the hip belt down below the below (see photo above). That way the hip belt can be used as a “belly band” to help support and stabilize the belly at the same time as it allows part of the weight of the pack to be carried on your hips. For me, the added belly support from the padded hip belt makes hiking with the pack on more comfortable than hiking without it!

Face Masks & Respirators: Insights from An Asthmatic Adventurer

Face Masks & Respirators: Insights from An Asthmatic Adventurer

Wearing my N-95 on the CDT

Wearing my Vogmask N-95 respirator during my 2018 CDT thru-hike.

As COVID-19 sweeps across the globe (click here for the latest numbers from the WHO), there is a sudden spike in interest in the use of face masks and respirators for personal use and as personal protective equipment (PPE). Masks/respirators are specifically designed for different tasks, and like most safety gear, they are only effective if you know what to use, when to use them, and how to use them. In this post I share info about:

  1. Masks/respirators: COVID-19 (click here for WHO guidance (pdf): Rational use of personal protective equipment for COVID-19)
  2. Masks/respirators: Personal Use and Backpacking (including a review of the Vogmask N99 that I carried on my CDT thru-hike)

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RIP City Slicka “Patrick O’Meara” (1973 – 2019): The Man Who Never Returned

RIP City Slicka “Patrick O’Meara” (1973 – 2019): The Man Who Never Returned


“Pictured next to the A.T. archway at Amicalola Falls is “City Slicka” aka Patrick O’Meara from South Boston, MA who completed the A.T. southbound in February. It look him one year to complete due to some injuries that took him off of the trail for over 4 months” – Kathy Brigman March 5, 2013 (source: Facebook)

City Slicka (Patrick M. O’Meara), the thru-hiker from Southie (South Boston) with legendary calves and more than 21,000 Career miles on the Appalachian Trail (AT), is dead. City Slicka swore like a sailor, drank a lot of beer, smoked a lot of weed, embodied a lot of both the good- and bad- qualities associated with ‘Hiker Trash’ on the AT, and was part of my trail family (a trouble-making older brother of sorts). He was hiking the AT full time by 2012, and by the end of 2013 (the same year I finished my AT thru) he’d completed at least one ‘yo-yo’ (round-trip) of the AT. By the end of 2014, he’d completed another yo-yo of the AT, and his calves had become a thing of legend. For those of you that are having trouble imagining legendary calves, think about ‘Popeye the Sailor’, with massive, tattooed legs instead of giant arms, a backpack instead of a sailor’s cap, a can of bee-ah [beer] instead of spinach, and a wicked strong Southie Accent.

Year by year, as City Slicka continued ‘ponging’ the Appalachian Trail (ping-ponging back and forth up and down the trail from Georgia and Maine), the legends of his exploits and the size of his calves grew and grew, and we stopped counting the number of thru-hikes (and miles) he’d hiked. Instead of signing into log books with which years he’d completed his thru-hikes like the rest of us (FYI, I sign in as Patches AT ’13, PCT ’14, CDT ’18), he signed in as ‘City Slicka AT∞’, and that seemed right. He was City Slicka and he’d hike the AT an infinite number of times. City Slicka was a bit like the AT itself, in that we all sort of just figured that he would always be out there, somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains. In July of 2019, City Slicka physically left the AT, but his spirit and his legend will be a part of the AT forever.


AT logbook with City Slicka’s AT infinity sign-in and shout out to Riff-Raff! from July 16, 2018 (source: Rich Outdoors)

Our trail family first learned the news that City Slicka was dead in November, and before any of us knew much more than that, we found ourselves at an “Irish Wake” for City Slicka down at 4 Pines (the hiker hostel that City Slicka had tattooed on his famous calves) in Virginia. For three days the whiskey, moonshine, and beer flowed freely as we gathered, and grieved at 4 Pines. We were in the Appalachian Mountains, so it was cold and rainy the whole time, but thanks to Pound Puppy (who has mad skillz with fire), we had a raging campfire to linger around. We poured one out for City (by the end of the 3 days, it was probably closer to 750), we told stories, we laughed, we cried, we broke things, and we burned things in true Hika’ Trash style. City Slicka woulda been proud :)

As we grieved, the question, “Who was City Slicka?” kept popping up. For me, the thing that came immediately to mind whenever anyone asked was an old song from Boston that tells the story of “the man who never returned.” In the original song the man took a ride on the subway (the MTA), and got stuck riding back and forth forever, never able to make his way home… The song hit home for a lot of reasons, and whenever I think of City Slicka the refrain (with slightly reworked lyrics) runs through my head:

But did he ever return?

No he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (he may hike forever)

He may hike forever on the Appalachian

He’s the man who never returned

We had all known that City Slicka was from Boston, that he left home one day to hike the Appalachian Trail, and, at some level, most of us knew that he was never going to return… We just assumed he was going to hike forever. Though I have since learned City Slicka’s fate, I choose to remember him somewhere out there, hiking to infinity on the Appalachian Trail.


“The others had run into City Slicka at Trail Days and we wondered where he was. Shortly after this was voiced, City Slicka showed up at McAfee Knob.” – Garrett Fondoules, April 24, 2014 (source: Facebook)

It is with sadness (and a wee dram of whiskey) that I sit down to share with you some of the stories that have made me laugh, given me solace, and contributed to the legend of the man I knew as City Slicka on the AT. For those of you that didn’t know him, a quick heads up, City Slicka may have been a legend, but he was no saint. Like a lot of the colorful characters on the trail, City Slicka was a polarizing figure… I’ve heard him described, affectionately (or not), as “a drunk with a hiking problem.” They weren’t exactly wrong, but those of us that were his friends knew that underneath his drunken, foul-mouthed, gruff exterior, he had a heart of gold, and a troubled soul. As one of City’s friends from college put it, “He was a brilliant man, a troubled man, and a great friend to me.”


“City Slicka’s calves… –with Kristen McLane” (aka Siren) – Garrett Fondoules, April 24, 2014 (source: Facebook).

City Slicka And The Calves of Legend

“His calves are ‘uuge,” bragged City Slicka’s buddy admiringly.

“Oh yeah?” I smiled skeptically, took a sip of my beer, and glanced over at City Slicka. It was 2014, and though I’d met City Slicka in passing during my 2013 thru-hike of the AT, this was the first I’d heard of his legendary calves. His eyes twinkled with a confident smile, clearly enjoying the praise. He had the weathered look of a legit thru-hiker, with a long scraggly beard, scruffy brown hair, and the physique of someone that’s spent most of the last year hiking every day, but I wasn’t easily impressed. I’d just finished back-to-back thru-hikes of the AT ’13 and the PCT ’14 and had pretty impressive calves of my own.

“They’re the most finely sculpted calves on the AT,” chimed in another guy.

“I don’t know,” I replied, still unconvinced, “my calves are pretty sculpted.”

“I’ll show ya mine,” laughed City Slicka, finishing his beer, “if you show me yours!”

“Bring it!” I laughed, and before we knew it, City Slicka and I were rolling our pants up, and our socks down, and comparing the cut of our respective calves in front of a couple of highly entertained long-distance hikers.


A photo of City Slicka’s calf in an all American Knee sock – Tricia “Pop Tart” Jehn (source: Facebook).

“Not bad,” acknowledged City with a nod, as we stood there, flexing our calves on the cool October afternoon. His calves were definitely bigger than mine, but when it came to whose calves were the most finely sculpted, we decided to call it a draw (he was being generous).

“I see you all have met,” interjected my friend Colonel. I knew him from the PCT, and City Slicka knew him from the AT in Maine.

“Ay-yup,” I replied as G-Hippie handed us each another beer.

“Well, ya know,” Colonel continued with his thick Philly accent, before switching into an attempt at a Boston accent, “ya both are from Boston, and you’re both wicked smahht.” I looked at him and rolled my eyes. First, because his attempt at a Boston accent was pathetic, and second, conversations about smarts make me uncomfortable.

“Wicked f**kin’ smaht he-ah with my bee-Ah” I shrugged, cracking open my beer and taking a sip. I grew up in Massachusetts and lived in the Boston area for over a decade, and the Worcester area for even longer, so there’s no doubt I could own a Massachusetts accent, but my accent wasn’t anything like the thick Southie accent City Slicka commanded.

“Ay-ya,” nodded City, “wicked fuckin’ smaht.”

“Well,” Colonel continued doggedly, “Doc-tah Songa’ he-ah went to MIT and worked at Ha’va’d.”

“So I c’n pa’k my ca’ in ha’vah’d yah’d if ya’d like,” I replied glibly, neither confirming nor denying anything Colonel said.

“Are ya done?” Colonel paused significantly, raised an eyebrow and said, “Well? Are ya?” I shrugged a shoulder with a silent noncommittal maybe.

“And City Slick over there,” he directed my gaze over to City, “has like three f**in’ degrees in like geo-f**in-chemistry and shi**, and …” he paused to take a quick breath before continuing.

“You both worked for some sort of NASA f**in’ sh** or sumthin’, and y’all are some of the smartest f**in’ people I know… so you should talk and sh**,” he finished his sentence and looked pointedly from me to City Slicka and back again. We weren’t helping him out at all, and just looked at him silently.

“So what are you all waiting for?” Colonel exclaimed, leaning forward and waving his arms around at us, “Talk Already!” He took a quick breath, clearly exasperated by the two of us, “… and Go!” he finished, leaned back expectantly, took a sip of his beer, and waited, eyebrows raised for us to follow his directions…

Following orders isn’t exactly my strong suit, and City Slicka didn’t seem to be in a hurry to comply either, so the lull in the conversation just kept growing. I looked over at G-Hippy to see if he was gonna help us out, but the answer was a smile and a shrug. Nope. He was just going to sit back and enjoy the show.

“Massholes,” Colonel muttered, half under his breath, “the both of you!”

“True‘n‘nuff,” I nodded, owning it.

“Born’n bred,” agreed City Slicka.

City Slicka (Patrick O'Meara) in 2014

Photo of City Slicka at Hiker’s Ridge Ministry Center in 2014 (source: Facebook)

After that, we got to talking about Massachusetts, which parts of it we’d lived in, where we were from, and the different accents from different areas. City Slicka had a super thick Southie accent that I couldn’t imitate even if I tried, and my accent (which I think mostly isn’t very noticeable) is more of the central Massachusetts accent, closer to a Wistah (Worcester) accent. We joked about Tollbooth Willie and the T (the subway system in Boston), and talked enough science and backpacking to suss out whether the other person was full of sh** or legit. There are lots of bullsh**ers on the Trail, but by the end of night I’d come to the conclusion that City Slicka was legit, and we’ve been friends ever since.

It was an unlikely friendship in a lot of ways, but wasn’t any the lesser for it. City Slicka was part of my trail family, and acted a bit like an older brother to me in the trail community. He is one of the only folks I know that has spent more time solo than I have, is a more experienced backpacker than I am, and understood what it was like to be both ‘hiker trash’ and a proverbial ‘rocket scientist’. We shared a lot of stories and advice, gave each other occasional pep talks, and though he knew I could take care of my own damn self, he was always looking out for me. There are lots and lots and lots of folks that try to give me advice about backpacking, but he’s the guy I knew I could turn to for trail advice when I needed it…. Like now. *sigh* (aside: I wouldn’t have had to explain to him how I managed to get poison ivy despite the 2 ½ feet of snow on the ground, and he would know the fastest/bestest way to get the urushiol off of my backpack and all my nice warm down winter gear and decontaminate everything. Sure, I can figure it out, but it’s a pain in my *ss, and it’s feeling like a daunting task right now, and City would have just known, and he would have managed to get me laughing about it (no easy feat) and thinking it wasn’t a big deal…) *sigh*


From Wanderlustforlife (May 2014), “This is City Slicka with Daisy the Dog. City has given me lots of advice. He’s a yo-yo hiker and is in his fourth continuous hike. From Boston, he’s about 40 and says before the trail he weighed 280 and sat on a bar stool all the time. We tell him he’s a drunk with a hiking problem.”

City Slicka: Serious Talk

City Slicka didn’t talk much about his life in Southie before the trail, but occasionally he would stay with me in Boston (usually on his way to- or from- the bus station) when he was in town visiting family. I knew that his mom and his sister still lived in the area, that he loved them, and that the family dynamics were… complicated… He gave mad props to his sister for sticking around and dealing with sh**, and would explain with a deep sadness in his eyes that he just couldn’t… that he needed to get back to the trail.

“I know,” I’d say, giving him a hug, “I get it.” City and I both spent thousands and thousands of miles hiking alone, with rocks and trees as our only company. Over the years we’d talked about the solace and solitude of the woods and joked about how much easier trees were to deal with than people. We’d talked about long-distance hiking, post-trail depression, and the challenges associated with trying to come back to civilization, either to visit (like City was doing), or to stay (that would be me). I don’t know how to describe the bond that City and I had, the wordless understanding that coping was easier while walking, the relaxed banter of mutual expertise, and I don’t know… We were weirdly the flip slides of a coin… I was usually feeling angsty about returning to civilization, and he was usually feeling angsty about leaving it… I guess mostly I supported him and understood his angst about leaving, and he supported me and understood my angst about staying…

“Patches,” City Slicka had reminded me, “yo-a fuckin’ ha’d co-ah, and comin’ back do’n change dat,” (translation: you’re hard core, and coming back doesn’t change that). He looked me in the eye, very seriously, “I would come back if I could, but we both know that that ain’ eva’ happenin’,” then he got a faraway look in his eyes, “There ain’ no comin’ back fo’ me…” he paused as the weight of that truth settled on us both. We both knew that it was true. I could still function in society, so for me, coming back and re-integrating into society was a choice. For City? Not so much. “But,” he continued with a reassuring smile, “I’ve made my peace wid i’ ” (translation: I’ve made my peace with it). I nodded, and knew that he had. City Slicka wasn’t trying to sugar coat it, or wallow in it, he was just tellin’ it like it was.

“Well, I gotta take a piss,” City blurted out, breaking the somber mood, and abruptly leaving the room.

Patrick O’Meara Becomes City Slicka

City Slicka (Patrick O'Meara) in 1994 at the ATC

Photo of City Slicka (Patrick O’Meara) and The Great Gherkin (Thad McDonald) taken at the ATC in Harpers Ferry August 4, 1994 (source: the ATC)

Patrick O’Meara was already going by the trail name City Slicka in 1994. I found the above photo of him sporting both his given name and trail name, and then, I found a post he made back in 1997 explaining how exactly he got dubbed with the trail name City Slicka, and why it mattered. The title of the thread was “AT Traditions, and their downfall” and I’ve included City Slicka’s words below:

“It’s just that Trailnames that have a story behind them are so much more meaningful, whether you get them on the Trail or not. As an example, I started w/o one b/c I really didn’t care to think one up. Then at Deep Gap shelter in GA, while having a conversation with a group of local boy SCOUTS, ONE OF THEM ASKED WHERE I FROM, AND I TOLD HIM I WAS FROM BOSTON. He then got up and left, saying “I’m not talking to some Yankee city slicker”. From then on, my fellow hikers called me by this name, though I drop the ‘er ending for a more Bostonian ‘a. I guess I’m just being selfish w/ most of my comments, in that I want the Trail to mean as much to everyone as it does to me. And if have offended someone, I really don’t care. My comments are not racist, biased, sexist, or anything that could be harmful to someone confident enough in enough in themselves. “They’re only words, in and of themselves they’re harmless, it the context that you take them in that makes them bad” —– George Carlin” — City Slicka (Patrick O’Meara), AT ’94 – ’97, LT ’95

City Slicka: Life Before the Trail (The ‘70s to the ‘90s)

City Slicka didn’t talk much about his life and accomplishments before (or after) the trail unless you were already friends, or he was flirting with you. Although lots of people assumed that most of the myths about City Slicka’s past were greatly exaggerated, so far, all the things that he told me (and the folks I know) seem to check out. There are still some gaps, with nothing but rumors churning around, but here’s what I know:

In his pre-trail life, City Slicka’s friends knew him as Pat (Patrick Michael O’Meara). He was born May 23, 1973 and grew up in a rough and tumble neighborhood in Southie (South Boston). Everyone on the trail knew that he was from Southie. Partly because he’d tell you so, but mostly because he had a wicked thick Southie accent, the kind of accent that everyone associates with Boston.

He got into hiking in high school (the late ‘80s) through a program for troubled teens he called, “Hoods in the Woods.” We didn’t talk much about the high school antics that got him into trouble back in Southie…. Well, except when we talked about where I used to live in the ‘Ville (Somerville) and Wistah (Worcester)… but those aren’t my stories to tell.

By the early 1990s, City Slicka was ‘bit by the bug’ (the hiking bug) and started taking off on long distance hikes whenever he got the chance and by 1997 he’d walked the entire length of the Appalachian trail between Georgia and Maine at least once. When he wasn’t hiking, he did the college thing at Bridgewater State University (BSU). In the trail community, rumor had it City Slicka’s degree were chemistry or chemical engineering. He told me it was geology and chemistry. I talked to a friend of his from college (BSU) that told the story of how City Slicka ended up in Chemistry, “In college, he was a geology major, a friend of mine was a chem major and was bitching about the difficulty of Organic Chem. Well, Pat starts taking chem courses to get a job tutoring.”

I laughed, because that sounded right, but I wasn’t 100% convinced that the Pat he knew, and the City Slicka I knew were the same person until he told me the PAT-SA story, “In college, he would have a monthly food budget and it wasn’t much. Some months he would decide to treat himself to steak or something expensive, which would leave him with limited funds and he’d eat noodles for a week or two, daily. Well this led us to call him Patsa (think pasta pronounced with an emphasis on PAT) He took it all in stride until he didn’t and I can still hear him yelling “CALL ME PATSA ONE MORE TIME AND I’LL STAB YOU IN THE EYE WITH RAW SPAGHETTI.” By the time I finished reading the end of the story I was laughing instead of crying, and there was absolutely no denying that the Pat he knew and the City Slicka I knew were the same person.


City Slicka (middle, orange shirt) enjoying a pasta dinner (some thing never change?) on the AT in 2012 or 2013 (photo source: the internet)

City Slicka graduated from BSU in 1995, and completed an end-to-end hike of the Long Trail (LT ’95) in Vermont with a friend that same year. City Slicka and I had both done a lot of hiking in Vermont and the White Mountains of New Hampshire in the 1990s, and my first long distance trail was the Long Trail (LT ’98), which I hiked with my younger brothers. It was fun remembering the days when we were backpacking newbs, and talking about how much things have changed and how much they stay the same.

After finishing up the LT in 1995, City Slicka moved West, to Golden Colorado for Graduate School, where he was working on a doctorate degree in geochemistry. For those of you that thought that that part was bullsh**, I can assure you it checks out. His alma mater bragged about him in their 1997 magazine, verifying that, “Patrick O’Meara attends the Colorado School of Mines (CSM) as a graduate student in the geochemistry” ( He told me that he was in a doctoral program, but ended up finishing ABD (all but dissertation) with just his Master’s degree because his thesis advisor was, “bein’ a dick.” We geeked out about the science (I’ve since forgotten all of those details), but since I was in the process of moving from my pre-trail career in academia, to a post-trail career in industry, we mostly talked about the pros and cons of working for industry.


City Slicka’s profile pic from a deleted facebook account

City Slicka: The Missing Years (the 2000s)

Rumors about what City did, and who he was, during the decade between getting his Master’s degree and settling on the AT as a full-time hiker are many, but most of them seem to hold at least a grain of truth… So, let’s get started with a game of City Slicka, fact or fiction?

He told people that he graduated from a renowned master’s program for chemical engineering. That was pretty much TRUE, he got a Master’s Degree from Colorado School of Mining, and he and I used to joke around about “bein’ engin’ ‘e-ahs” since I had a master’s degree in engineering too.

What did he do after he graduated? Those details are a little fuzzier.

He told me that after he left the Colorado School of Mines he worked as a contractor… I don’t remember if it was for Ratheon or Lockhead Martin or Boeing or one of the Big Oil Companies, but it was one of the big industry players, with a reputation for being flush with cash and flexible with morals. I was doing contract work for Big Pharma at the time, and we were talking about the pros and cons of going to- and working for- the DARK SIDE. We both agreed that the money was good, but the bosses were bad.

For City, the biggest advantage of working in industry was that he’d banked enough money as a contractor to support his hiking habit. It wasn’t a ton of money, and his budget was tight, but he skimped and stretched it, and it was “good’n’nuff.” He was by no means wealthy, but he had had enough to “retire” early (trail rumor suggests he was 32 when he retired) and become full-time hika’ trash (by 2012ish). I couldn’t fault his logic, but I did the math, and it was definitely a tighter budget than I thought I could pull off… I have a real fondness for steak :-P

He told Sisyfus (April 9, 2014) that he was “the inventor of something that was bought by NASA and used on the Mars Rover,” and though I can’t confirm that all of those details are true, I do know that at least some of it checks out. CSU, where City did his graduate work, has been involved in space research since the 1990s, and has been hosting a “Space Resources Roundtable” where academics, folks from NASA, and private sector industrial participants get together, talk shop, and make plans to mine the moon, mars, asteroids, or whatever else might be profitable. Although neither of us had worked directly for NASA, we had both been involved in research for NASA. We’d been involved in different aspects of the Space Program, so didn’t know any of the same people, but we had fun talking about how surreal some of the NASA conferences had seemed. Did City Slicka invent something that was purchased by NASA and used on the Mars Rover? Probably. I expect it was more like he was part of a team of contractors that invented/created something bought by NASA, but the story fits with what I knew about City.

We had a few other conversations about those in between times, when he was working as a contractor, but not many… just enough for me to have a sense of which rumors were complete and utter BS, and which things seemed about right… We mostly had these conversations while I was doing research on a military base… the running joke at the time was, “I could tell ya, but then I’d haveta kill ya.”

While I don’t know a lot of those in between details, I do know that when he returned to the AT to start his first thru-hike he was fat and out of shape. At one point I mentioned to City that I’d lost about 60 pounds on my thru-hike of the AT. He smiled indulgently, “I gotcha beat,” he grinned patting his belly proudly… “I must-a’ lossa’d ova’ a’hund-ed (I must have lost over a hundred).

“I was a chubby bastah’d,” he laughed. I don’t remember exactly what he said he weighed pre-trail, but it made the ~200 lbs I’d started the AT weighing seem like small potatoes. He told some other hikers in 2013 that, “before the trail he weighted 280 and sat on a bar stool all the time. We tell him he’s a drunk with a hiking problem…”


City Slicka (middle, no hat) on the AT in Maine in 2012 (posted by Clark King, March 17, 2013)

City Slicka: >21,000 Career AT Miles (the 2010s)

City Slicka re-surfaced on the AT sometime in the 2000s, and by 2012 his name began popping up in the blogs and posts of the other thru-hikers as he started racking up miles and sculpting his legendary calves as he ponged back and forth along the trails of the Appalachian Mountains. In 2013 alone, City Slicka hiked 4,153.4 miles (he counted ’em up and gave Doc Spice the total). By the end of 2014, City Slicka hiked the AT from end-to-end at least 5 times (4 continuous thru-hikes since 2012, and at least once in the ‘90s), with more than 11,000 career miles, and was well on his way to becoming an AT legend.


Doc Spice and City Slicka on the AT in New York in 2012; according to Doc Spice, City Slicka had been bouncing back and forth between the AT (in the summer) and skiing in Colorado for the winter for between 4 and 10 years in 2013 (photo: from Doc Spice’s blog).

An article from November 2015 advised AT hikers to get to know 2 of the Appalachian Trail Legends: Baltimore Jack, and City Slicka saying, “City Slicka has been hiking the trail since 2012. Non-stop. He hikes to Maine. And then back to Georgia. And then back to Maine…etc. So he knows the way better than just about anyone, making him a great night hiking partner. The former chemist will show you where the closest liquor stores are, as well as give you a lesson on how to save your money (401K!)

Some people keep track of every mile they hike, but City Slicka told me that was bullsh**. “What’s the point?” he’d grumble, bristling (silently or not so silently) as some friggin’ peacock came struttin’ around thinkin’ they were hot sh** because they’d hiked a few thousand miles of the trail. He had more miles on the AT than just about anyone, and he knew it. He’d hiked the trail enough times that he’d quit counting, which wasn’t to say that he couldn’t figure it out-ish, it’s just that it wasn’t usually worth the effort.


“City Slicka (in green). Two great guys and already well known along the trail.” – Travis Shepherd Hall, March 25, 2014 (source: Facebook)

Late one night, must have been 2016, we were chatting about total career miles (A friend of ours, Colonel, had been lecturing me, informing me in no uncertain terms that I should be keeping track of my total # of career backpacking miles) and City Slicka decided to try to count ‘em up. It was kind of hilarious, because he was trying to count out his thru-hikes on his fingers, but we kept getting distracted and loosing count. Before long we were both sitting there trying to count on our fingers, “Ay-ya,” laughed City, “Wicked f’in’ smaht he-ah, countin’ wid ah’ fingahs.” At that point he’d finished his 7th or 12th hike of the AT? (We never did manage to finish counting, but I’m pretty sure he was waving 2 fingers around when the conversation ended), had done the Benton McKay, and was working on blue-lining the AT (hiking all of the trails that connect to the AT).

Nobody is exactly sure what City Slicka’s total career miles were or how many times he ponged back and forth from Georgia to Maine on the Appalachian Trail, but the consensus seems to be that he had over 21,000 career AT miles, and roughly 8 continuous AT thru-hikes between 2012 and 2019.

Some folks thought City Slicka was a Triple Crowner (hiked the AT, PCT and CDT), but that rumor was FALSE. “Hrmph,” City Slicka mumbled when I asked him about it, before telling me in no uncertain terms that he’d never hiked those other trails and was never going to. I tried to sell him on the awesomeness of some of the other trails, but he wasn’t buying it, not even a little bit. He eventually conceded that the mountains in Colorado were pretty awesome and he’d hiked and skied there a bunch in his pre-trail days. The Colorado Trail, he admitted, might tempt him away from the East Coast ever so briefly, but the AT was his trail and always would be. Nothing and no-one would ever change his mind about that.

“It’s jus’ home,” City Slicka explained, a little misty eyed explaining that he knew every rock, root, and tree between Georgia and Maine like the back of his hand. And, more than that, the AT was the place where he felt like he belonged. In additional to sculpting impressive calves as he’d hiked up and down the trail, City had established a community up and down the trail. He’d found a group of folks, his hiker family, that appreciated his awesomeness, acknowledged his flaws, and loved him anyway…

July 22-23 Hikers and my Bday 002.jpg

City Slicka and crew at Trail Angel Mary’s house for her birthday in July of 2018 in Pennsylvania (photo courtesy of Trail Angel Mary)

By continuously ponging back and forth on the AT, City Slicka had developed stronger ties to the people and places between Georgia and Maine than any of the rest of us could imagine. The sense of community, connection, and belonging he found on the AT was something I know he appreciated, because he told me so. His connection to the AT trail community was much tighter than mine, but he considered me to be part of his trail family, and when I was feeling disconnected and more alone than was good for me, he would remind me that no matter how far off the grid I was, my trail family was still with me. The last time I saw him, we were both getting ready to disappear into the woods for a while. Though solitude was a fairly constant companion for City Slicka, I’d been back in civilization for a couple of years, and where I was headed out on the CDT, I was anticipating (and got) a lot more solitude than I was used to.

“Ya know Patches,” City Slicka reminded me, “you may be hikin’ solo, but ya’r neva’ alo-en out the-ah.” City Slicka paused and looked at me with that intense look he had when we wanted to make sure that you were paying attention, and you know, actually listening. I nodded, and he continued, “yer trail family is always wid’ja.”

“It’s good ta rememba’ dat,” he concluded solemnly.

“Yeah, I know” I agreed, and then continued, “but reminders are good.”

We stood there lost in our own thoughts for a minute… we both knew that remembering that you didn’t have to do everything alone, that there were folks out there that would help if you let them, was easier said then done.

“Ya know?” I said, nudging us back out of the silence, and reminding him that everything he was saying to me, was also true for him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, abruptly standing up and walking away.

“I, a’,” he resumed, as he started rummaging around in his pack, “give me a sec, I got sumthin’ fo’ ya.”

I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure what to expect… City Slicka wasn’t 100% predictable, but he didn’t usually have anything in his pack that he wasn’t going to need to bring with him to see him through the next stretch of trail… We had plenty of food and whiskey, and I don’t smoke, so… I had no idea where this was headed.


City Slicka standing in Trail Angel Mary’s living room with his sleeping bag, wearing his Riff-Raff! shirt (Photo courtesy of Trail Angel Mary).

“It’s my reminda,” he beamed, a minute or two later as he triumphantly pulled a black Riff-Raff! bandana out of his pack. It was the sweetest gesture ever, but I hesitated, I couldn’t take City’s reminder, he needed it.
“It’s wash’t,” he explained hurriedly with a little self-conscious frown, “but it ain’ exac’ly clean,” he admitted.

“It’s not that, it’s just….”

“Oh,” Interrupted City realizing that I was worried about him, “It’s ok. I’m gonna’ gedd’a new-un nex’ week when I see ’em all.” We was referring to Riff-Raff!. For those of you that aren’t familiar with all of the AT sub-cultures, Riff-Raff! is a tightly knit trail family of thru-hiker alum and trail angels that has a reputation for partying hard. City Slicka was a ‘shirted’ member (think of it as being a card carrying member) of Riff-Raff!, and proud of it (he had the tattoo on his leg to prove it).

“Ya know I’m not shirted, right?” I said. He looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. “I have trouble with crowds,” I shrugged, “so I’ve never been to Trail Days. I always end up bailing and doing a solo backpacking trip instead.”

“I ge’ it,” he nodded, “bu’ you sh’d go, Riff-Raff! are good people,” he paused thoughtfully, “well mostly,” he clarified, “but they’re my people,” he smiled distantly remembering something. Suddenly the smile faded and he looked at me, his blue eyes intensely serious, “they’d take care of yer.” I nodded, Riff-Raff! has a reputation for being the hardest partiers on the trail, but they’re also a fiercely loyal group that looks after their people.
“You should have this,” he re-iterated, handing me the bandana.
“You’re sure?” I asked impulsively. He gave me a look, the one that said don’t be a dumba**, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t mean it.
“Thank you, City Slicka,” I accepted the bandana, and pressed it to my heart. There was a lot more going on in this simple interaction, than just the exchange of a dirty black bandana.


City Slicka sporting the black bandana on his pack (Photo: June 26, 2013, taken by Cj Polett)


When I heard about City Slicka’s death, I immediately pulled out that dirty black bandana, pressed it to my heart, and cried. City Slicka left the trail in Virginia, boarded a Greyhound bus headed for Colorado, and killed himself (his body was found in Texas). It was absolutely heartbreaking to think of him dying alone out there, and I scoured the internet trying to find information that would help bring me closure. I didn’t find it. The things that have brought me solace are the things that City told me, and the outpouring of support from his people (both the old crew that knew him as Pat, and the new crew that knew him as City Slicka).


“Watauga Lake: Fresh, The Goat, Ghengis, Blue Deer, Stretch, Kamikaze, Peppa and City Slicka” – Hiking with Gandalf, April 17, 2014 (source: Facebook)

It helped that I didn’t have to wonder if he’d found peace somewhere out there on the trail, I know he did, because he’d told me so in his out-loud voice. I didn’t have to wonder if he knew that his trail family supported him, because I knew that he knew. He’d told me so in his out-loud voice. Not only that, he understood that truth so well that he’d tried to share that support with me when I was feeling the weight of a little too much solitude. I also know that his trail family helped him get professional help. It’s just that sometimes it’s not enough, and that may be the most heartbreaking part all. City Slicka is the second friend from the AT class of 2013 that I’ve lost to suicide. I’m afraid that he won’t be the last. I’m not sure that I know how to talk about it, but I’m going to try, because no matter how flawed, I’d like the colorful characters that I call friends to remain in my life soo….

I’d like to encourage everyone to get outside, to enjoy the trails and the wild places that the world has to offer, but at the same time I’d like to remind everyone that a thru-hike isn’t a panacea that will cure all that ails you… it’s an epic adventure that may help you ignore your demons for a little while, but it doesn’t usually make them go away… As one of City Slicka’s friends, I wish I could have helped him get the help he needed. I wish that he was still here and that I could help him fight the good fight, but he’s not, so I can’t. Instead, I’m going to listen to City Slicka’s advice, and try to remember that I don’t have to face my demons alone. I’m going to remember that even when I’m alone, my family (both on the trail, and off of it) want to support me, and I’m going to try to do a better job of letting them support me, and trusting that I’m not the only person that has my back… My family and community has my back, just as certainly as I have theirs… It’s what we do, and who we are.

So, pour one out for City Slicka, hug the people you love, get the help you need, be the help you can, and hike your own hike.

But did he ever return?

No he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (he may hike forever)

He may hike forever on the Appalachian

He’s the man who never returned


City Slicka helping out with some chores at Trail Angel Mary’s house (source: Trail Angel Mary, July 25, 1018)

Appendices & References

City Slicka: Tales from The Internet

In 2017 City Slicka messaged me to tell me he was quitting Facebook and asking for my number so we could stay in touch. He was tired of all the fu**in’ pose-ahs (posers) and ah’m-chay-ah’ (armchair) bulls**t wannabe’s online. He had a reputation for being “wicked smaht,” and did a pretty good job of disappearing from the internet, but he didn’t get rid of everything. For folks that still want to know more about City, I’ve included some links to the blogs, posts, and other info I found about City Slicka as I was poking around the internet (First, a couple of stories, then a timeline with links and information).


“Finally met the legend, City Slicka!” – Kestral the Backpacking Yogi, November 8, 2015 (source: Facebook)


“City has given me lots of advice. He’s a yo-yo hiker and is in his fourth continuous hiker. From Boston, he’s about 40 and says before the trail he weighted 280 and sat on a bar stool all the time. We tell him he’s a drunk with a hiking problem…” – May 2014,

“But then I met City Slicka’. The dude is old school hiker trash. He claims to be a previous through hiker, the inventor of something that was bought by NASA and used on the Mars Rover, a Triple Crowner (hiked the AT, PCT and CDT), independently wealthy, a graduate of a renowned masters program for Chemical engineering, and a whole slew of other things. It would seem that he hasn’t had a job in a while. He claims to have been on one trail or another for the last five years. He’s rocking one of the most impressive mullet/mohawks I’ve ever seen and maintains a pervasive odor of marijuana. He’s always smoking. And drinking. He also never shuts up. When I got to the hostel he had already been there for two and a half days and when I left he looked like he was setting up camp for a continued extended stay.” – Sisyfus (April 9, 2014)

“City Slicka has been hiking the trail since 2012. Non-stop. He hikes to Maine. And then back to Georgia. And then back to Maine…etc. So he knows the way better than just about anyone, making him a great night hiking partner. The former chemist will show you where the closest liquor stores are, as well as give you a lesson on how to save your money (401K!)” – November 2015,


“RIP City Slicka. I just found out I lost a dear hiking friend. I met City on the AT. We traveled many miles together. He was a special guy, a sweet soul who brought happiness to everyone he met,. He lived to hike, it was his world. I will miss you.” – Donna “Eagle-Eye” Dearmon (source: Facebook)

“Joe’s first lieutenant, at least while we stayed at the hostel, is a burly, equally grizzled, early-middle-aged hiker who goes by the moniker City Slicker (the -er is pronounced -ah. Slicker’s from Boston). Slicker has calves that bodybuilders pine for, and his legs are tattooed with symbols of the trail: the ATC, four shaggy pine trees for Four Pines, Trail Days, Riff Raff, etc. Slicker is one of those lucky souls who loves their life so much that they constantly seek out parts of it to complain about. Today, it was the upcoming bubble—the concentrated mass of thru-hikers who left Springer mid-March, and who have been averaging 12-18 miles daily. “The party crowd,” or “the fuckboy parade,” as Slicker knows them.”

“Later this guy City Slicka, an annoying and somewhat psychocotic vagrant from South Boston, showed up. He wouldn’t leave us girls alone but gave us good advice on getting to Walmart and a heads up that the cops swing by the hostel three times a day since the local meth heads had been giving hikers trouble. Gotta love the meth heads. J. Rex and I were stationed outside organizing our resupply we got from Walmart but couldn’t hardly get anything done because City Slicka was drunk and kept telling us these ridiculous reasons why he’s been living on the trail for 3 years (he retired at 32 after inventing the Mars Rover, was a too-smart doctor to work, etc.).”

“This hits me hard. City was like my Trail Dad in ’15 – first person I met on the trail, and saw him on and off throughout the whole experience, also hiking and hanging with him a bunch in 2016 on my full thru. Last I saw him was at a shelter just before crossing into ME where he gave me a moose femur to hike to Katahdin, as we hadn’t yet seen one. We saw our first moose later that night, and that femur now rests on my bookshelf. The trail lost one of the vert best- may your soul rest peacefully in paradise dear brother 🙏😭😭😭” – Brent Wander Borgemeister, Facebook

“APPALACHIAN TRAIL | APRIL 14 | DAY 51: Leave Four Pines after listening to City Slicka’s stories of last night, in which he chased away a fox with a rake. The fox tore up one of the chickens, but Joe will ‘take care of it’ later (with his shotgun, it is implied). Meanwhile we’re told that the Guinea Hens are on ‘tick patrol’ and used to rule the roost until Joe got ducks, and now the ducks rule the roost because they are ‘fuckin gangsters’. Alex and I head to Roanoke for a zero day and I finally get someone to look at my legs and prescribe some GD steroids for what turns out to be poison ivy. The pharmacist tells me I might feel like slapping anyone who says hello, and not to worry—it’s normal to feel ‘a little tense’ on heaps of ‘roids. We eat good food, drink good beer, and I get a full-body Epsom salt soak in the tub. Back on trail tomorrow!” -@hikeasaurustreks (April 2019)


“Third annual 2013 AT Hiker Thanksgiving at Patriot’s house. What a great tradition! With Patriot, Mudmouth, Yardsale, Tin Cup, Whiskers, City Slicka, EagleRunner, Chapinlara, Shepherd, The Triplets, and Tugboat.” – Deb Van Schaack (source: Facebook)


1970s & 1980s:

  • Pat (Patrick Michael O’Meara) was born May 23, 1973 and grew up in a rough and tumble neighborhood in Southie (source: “United States Public Records, 1970-2009”, database, FamilySearch ( : 8 November 2019), Patrick M Omeara, 2001-2008.)
  • He started hiking in high school through a program for troubled teens he called, “Hoods in the Woods.” (source: personal accounts)

1990s: Total miles hiked > 2500 (AT Georgia to Maine + End-to-End Long Trail, VT). By the early 1990s Pat had started taking off on long distance hikes whenever he got the chance (source: City Slicka & college friends).

  • 1994 – 1997: Appalachian Trail (AT), Pat had been dubbed “City Slika” and completed at least one AT thru (source: City Slicka)
  • 1995: Graduated from college (Bridgewater State University): Degrees in Geology and Chemistry and completed an End-to-End hike of the Long Trail, Vermont with a friend (source: City Slicka, Bridgwater State and friend from College)
  • 1996 – 1997: “Patrick O’Meara attends the Colorado School of Mines as a graduate student in the geochemistry” (source:

2000s: Between 1998 and 2011 the only information I have about City is from conversations we had, and rumors of other conversations. Rumor has it that City retired when he was 32 years old, which would have been 2005, other rumors say he started hiking the AT somewhere around 2002, others say he started hiking 2011.

2010s: City Slicka started showing up in AT photos and blogs in 2012


City Slicka on the Harris Homestead Trail (source: unknown)

Updates and Additional Notes

NOTE (12/16/2019): I worked with the folks at 4 Pines to create a photobook for the hostel out of this post and some of the photos of City Slicka that I’ve collected. Since I’ve already done the work to put it together, I decided to make it publicly available (click here to preview the photobook or get a link to the eBook) in case anyone else is interested. I’ve also received a few cool photos of City Slicka since the original posting, and may add more below as time allows.

Patrick "City Slicka" O'Meara with a snapping turtle

“The story of the snapping turtle: October 5, 2014. City Slicka had just finished up his hike at Katahdin, and we were heading back to the park to celebrate with trail magic. We spot a turtle in the road and we instantly agree to help it across. Before I can even pull over, City jumps out of the moving car, runs over and picks up the turtle, explaining his knowledge of snapping turtles, and convincing me he knew the proper way to pick up a snapping turtle, as he staggered across the road! Of course I had capture the moment for historic preservation.” – Turtle Traxx

NOTE (1/9/2020): This post is currently serving as the obituary for City Slicka (Patrick O’Meara). City’s disappearance in July, and the notice of his death have left many of us with more questions than answers. For me, the absence the specific date of his death has been particularly disquieting. I spent endless hours scouring the internet searching for the date. Surely his death was mentioned in a paper or police log somewhere? When my online searches failed, I started reaching out to newspapers, police departments, and state officials. Still nothing. Eventually I filed the paperwork and $$ required by the state of Texas to get the official word. Though the process is painfully slow, I’ve received confirmation that my request was received and should be receiving official information from the state of Texas (by snail mail) sometime between January 20th and February 10th. I’ll keep all y’all posted.

UPDATE (2/11/2020): Today I received information from state offices in Texas confirming that City Slicka (Patrick M. O’Meara) died there. Although I am still waiting for the official notification (via snail mail), they shared with me the date of his passing: July 11, 2019.

UPDATE (2/14/2020): The official ‘verification of death’ letter from the Texas Department of Health and Human Services arrived today. It states, “A search was made of the DEATHS records in the state of Texas to verify the death of the person named below. A death record was filed for PATRICK MICHEAL O’MEARA deceased July 11, 2019 in TITUS County, Texas.” Neither the cause of death, nor the specific town are listed. I will note that there is a Greyhound Bus Station in Titus County (Mt. Pleasant, Texas), which would have been en route from Roanoke, VA -> Dallas, TX -> Colorado.

Patrick "City Slicka" O'Meara with a 22 lb fish

Patrick “City Slicka” O’Meara (sometime in the late 2000s?) with a big fish, “22 lbs I think he said,” – Wicked (source Wicked)

Thank you to Wicked who reached out with some more photos of City Slicka from his old phone including two of City Slicka and Chet (Chet is wearing City Slicka’s shirt), one of City Slicka and Trail Angel Mary, and a bunch of other photos of City Slicka:

May he hike forever on the Appalachian, he’s the man that never returned…

Glacier: Snow What?! (CDT Day 145)

Some of the brightest, pinkest clouds I’ve ever seen rolling up over the snow-capped mountains of Glacier National Park (Sunrise: September 25, 2018).

I’d seen the forecasts and I knew that winter was coming with a vengeance, but I’d hoped that an epic 29 – mile day would get me through Glacier ahead of the snow. Spoiler alert: It didn’t. These are the stories and photos from that day.

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