What’s in a name?

Posted Feb 12, 2007 by Janette Davison

Updated Feb 12, 2007 at 10:01 AM

What’s in a name?

I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. DeWitt by way of the missing hiking poles blog.  Being a hiker, I immediately understood how the aforementioned accidental pole abduction would make the journey harder.  I’m from Tampa myself, and around the time of the missing pole blog was headed up to the Panhandle to be a part of the Monkey Creek Bridge project, which Mike has also previously blogged here.  Reading the blog, my immediate image was that I’d be sitting in camp after a pleasant day’s labor, and in would stagger this bedraggled, exhausted hiker struggling under his over laden pack.  I would have suffered eternal torture if conversation had turned to “I wish I would have known you were coming up from Tampa, you could have brought my spare poles.”  If he had spares, then I could bring them, if he had none then mine would have been willingly contributed to relieve his load, and share the journey, though I had not originally intended on carrying them up for the Bridge project.  I emailed Mike to find out if I could assist in the problem, and meet up somewhere to deliver replacement poles.  It turns out that offer was not needed, but did result in Mike and I meeting at Monkey Creek and sharing trail histories over coffee and maybe a few adult beverages, and committing to hike a section together when he reached a more easily accessible (for me) part of the trail. 

Weekends are my hiking time. I work full time Monday through Friday, preferring not to waste weekends on chores if I can help it.  As well as a hiker, I’m a spreadsheet and data geek, so I keep a calendar spreadsheet of proposed and completed weekend trips, mileage, etc.  In an attempt to figure out when Mike would hike within range of Tampa, and ensure that I kept a couple of weekends free to honor my commitment to hike, I calculated his average trail mileage to date.  This was around the middle of December.  Average mileage was somewhere in the region of a whopping 36.25 miles per week.  Applying that mileage to the approximately 1100 mile distance of the trail would put him at the Southern Loop Road Terminus sometime around Memorial Day 2007.  Now forgive me if I’m wrong, but in the “About the Project” side bar on this very page there is a reference to a “2 1/2 month journey”.  I’m neither a journalist nor a math major, but October to May seems a little in excess of 2 ½ months!

A series of emails between Mike and I followed.  The initial email, with a slightly sarcastic tone, but which I knew would be understood, was entitled “or should we call you Mr Mileage?”  During the exchange, Mike very eloquently imparted his Florida Trail hiking philosophy to me.  Imagery of the trail, anecdotes, and analogies all described how he felt about this journey, and took me away to a trail I already knew I wanted to hike, but now through the eyes of a man who is living the dream that I can’t currently consider myself; thru-hiking with the time to do it right, and the aptitude and desire to experience it all, in every conceivable way.  In his own words “it is not the miles that count, but the SMILES.”

This past weekend, I finally had the opportunity to hike with Mike as he exits the Panhandle and entered my weekend territory (within three hours drive from Tampa).  We talked initially of hiking around 20 + miles over the weekend.  Plans were made.  When I reached White Springs, the plan changed to less than 20 miles; enough to satisfy the mileage craving, but also allow some time for my conversion to smile counting.  By the time we eventually set off late morning (yes, a LATE morning start) on Saturday, the mileage goal had changed again.  This man, this living embodiment of my fantasy thru-hiker, had converted me already by his words, enthusiasm, actions, and smiles to the goal of “let’s just see where we get to.” 

And so we walked, and talked.  We photographed.  We wandered the Florida Trail through the woods and beside the river, listening, watching, talking some more.  We stopped for frequent breaks, and sometimes in mid-stride just to make a point in conversation, or to discuss a blaze, a sign, a flower, a bridge. And we smiled.  I have to admit, for the time we were together at least, I was a true convert to the “smileage” philosophy.  Our final weekend mileage tally?  Well, OK, it was only 9.5 miles over two days.  Admittedly, that’s less than I’d usually hike in a single day, but the smileage factor was definitely in force, and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of every mile (and there were a lot of minutes per mile!)

And so, to the point of my blog.  Mike has been asked several times about his trail name, and didn’t have one to give.  With his permission and approval I have established a trailname for our esteemed Hiker.  (My apologies to my fellow countryman Shakespeare for altering his immortal words):

‘Tis but thy name that is the enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a thru-hiker.
What’s thru-hiker? it is nor trail, nor foot,
Nor time, nor distance, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name

What’s in a name? that which we call a thru-hiker
By any other name would hike so thoroughly;
So DeWitt would, were he not thru-hiker call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Thru-hiker, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all the Trail.  Take the trailname “Mr. Smileage”

So it is official; Mr. Smileage he has become.  Mike was duly baptized on Sunday afternoon, with cool, fresh, filtered, but still tannin stained, Suwannee River water on a trailside picnic table overlooking the river and bluffs.  The sun broke out in blessing as the ceremony was attended to. 

That’s “Smileage” to his friends, of which I hope to be one for a long time.  Hike on Smileage!

Janette