The chafing had become unbearable. It was time. Something had to change with my hiking attire, or else Maine was never going to happen.
I had been hiking for almost 1000 miles, through rain, snow, fog, sun, but it finally hit a point mid-May where the conditions had turned, and I found myself imagining a very bleak outcome. The perfect storm had been brewing for days - the humidity was dancing between 90-100%, the temp was in the 80’s during the day yet still into the 50’s at night, and we had been tackling 100+ miles every 5 days for weeks. My inner thighs had been given no reprieve, and were simply quitting. They were ‘walking out in the middle of their shift’ quitting. The fact that we had not showered in 4 days only made things worse, adding a small amount of fuel to an unstoppable fire. It was time to consider a kilt.
We had run into 3 other thru hikers in the previous weeks whom had made the switch and all of them had nothing but raving reviews about them. It sounded like the top reviews section of Amazon. It was “my second time thru hiking and I wish I had done the first time in a kilt”… or “I’d never hike long distance in anything but a kilt ever again”… and “It will change your entire hike”.
That was the comment that kept replaying in my mind as I was fighting to get my legs into a position to appropriately shake my small bottle of Gold Bond medicated powder onto the area that used to be my inner thighs, while trying not to rip the bug netting of my hammock - or fall out. Considering the fact that you need to shake that stuff on to have any meaningful effect, let’s just say it’s quite difficult to contort yourself into that position in a hammock without bringing a ‘campful’ of attention to yourself for the noises you make. Not one of my proudest “on trail” moments, for sure, but also a turning point in my hike. As the cool menthol powder began to burn, and then eventually soothe the pain, I made the best decision of my trail life - “I’m buying a kilt. I’m going to swallow my pride, be mindful of my audience when doing my morning lunges, and buy a damned kilt.”
I had tried everything to avoid it, but I continued to lose the brains -vs- braun (or balls, in this case…) so I had no other choice. While hiking all day I was sweating liters - literally liters - of sweat throughout the day, which was running down my chest and soaking through the thin running shorts I decided to thru hike in, coating every seam, every single stitch, with salty disgusting sweat. The seams of my running shorts would wear off any protection I had applied, any Body Glide was worn off within the first 30 minutes of the day. At night, while my shorts dried into salty sandpaper bottoms, my situation wouldn’t find any relief.
Temps were dropping into the 50’s at night, requiring me to wear my sleeping wool tights, keeping my legs nice and warm while stifling the airflow to my sticky, salty “baggage”. This was what led to the perfect storm. Add in a rainy day or so, and there was no relief in sight. Standing in a privy one evening, with baby wipes, powder, anti bacterial cream, my bandana, Dr. Bronners, the fresh water I had filtered for breakfast the next day, and tears streaming down my face, I went to work doing the best field medical work I could. Sleeping “sans pants” that night was a bit cold, and certainly shrunk the problem by morning to say the least, but the relief was short lived - by mid morning the rash was back and hindering my speed.
Three horrible days later, crawling at a much slower pace than I intended, after cramming everything from extra socks to bunched up bandanas hanging out the sides of my briefs (anything to keep the salty serrated edges of the seams from filleting my thighs) I finally came to Harper’s Ferry and found the Kilt of my (recent) dreams online from Mountain Hardware. I ordered one for myself and my hiking buddy who was suffering from the same salty ailment as I. The next 4 days were the longest on the trail, as far as I remembered. Even a shower and a zero would not let enough healing time pass to make any real progress. Between washing myself in streams to shaking handfuls of that blissful, yet short lived, minty powder between my legs, I somehow made it to the post office in town and had my Kilt!
Happy to say that the chafing problem was solved! “Lather on the body glide and glide right on to your next shelter!” should be the slogan printed on each and every dispenser of that miracle product. I will say this - the first few days were very odd, but you’ll get used to it. On that note, here are some tips to help you adjust to your new ‘lifestyle’…
#1 - You become VERY aware of your junk when hiking, climbing over blowdowns, sitting at shelters, passing other hikers, etc. Somehow, they know, you think to yourself. They know that I have nothing on under this thing. Just when you convince yourself that you’re just experiencing “kilt tilt”, and that never even crosses their minds, they will inevitably come up to you and ask that very same thing. Be ready to answer - whatever you decide to tell them, be ready for the conversation.
#2 - Carry briefs in the handy cargo pocket for use when necessary, because not everyone will be interested in your free performance tonight during dinner at the shelter.
#3 - Ignore the looks you get in town! They are also inevitable, but you get used to them as you hike on. Remember, YOU are the ‘backpacking pro’ at this point, so what do they know?
#4 - Taking a leak is now a breeze - quite literally! Pull open the drapes and voila! Couldn’t be any easier than that
#5 - You are now wearing your very own privacy curtain for popping a squat to use that newly excavated cat-hole you just hurriedly dug for yourself - think about it…
#6 - When climbing steep grades, beware the sight seers below. If you’re always being given the go ahead to “start first” up every rock scramble, there’s a reason - it’s your rosy cheeks. Depending on your audience, and your comfort level, go for it! Or let them lead… Just keep this in mind for those who are NOT looking for any sights that aren’t listed in the guide book.
#7 - You can always wear some tights or long underwear underneath for those particularly chilly morning starts, then slip them right off when it warms up!
#8 - If you happen to slip and fall, your first reaction will not be to reach for your kilt - just sayin…
I know, I know, it seems like a just listed a bunch of reasons to avoid a kilt, but trust me - the benefits to your legs and undercarriage are well worth the glares you’ll get in that diner. Go for it, and you’ll never hike long distance in anything but a kilt again. Hope this helps if you’ve ever had issues like these before, and maybe it’ll open your eyes to the struggles that some have gone through before they chose to wear that kilt.
Til next time, we’ll see you out there (in our kilt…)
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