Vibe-Winter-2425 - Flipbook - Page 36
A Thousand Miles in
Larry Garland’s Boots
Putting the Whites on the Map
By Ethan Daly
Courtesy photo
L
arry Garland’s Limmer boots have
been re-soled four times.
To give you some context, that’s
an 8mm Vibram Montagna sole, not a
dinky trail runner. And that doesn’t count
the three pairs of boots he wore out
beyond repair.
It’s worth noting that Garland doesn’t
take a belt sander to his boots. No,
Garland hikes in these boots. He’s hiked
thousands of miles in these boots, with
more to come.
These thousands of miles were hiked
all over—from short walking paths
in New Jersey to overgrown spurs in
Maine’s North Woods. Some trails hadn’t
been hiked for years and were forgotten.
Others were so short they didn’t seem
dollar for his first year.
Eventually, he would get paid, but
his obsession never faded. It only grew
stronger. After 30 years of work, Garland
leaves his brush strokes on nearly every
trail in New England, painting the picture
that many outdoors people refer to. Credit for his work is subtle, though; a small
byline on each AMC map’s legend reads
“Cartography: Larry Garland.” Rarely has
a job been so undervalued.
It’s 2 p.m. at Ledge Brewing. I just got
back from climbing the Great Gully Trail
with my brother Brian, which was quite
the scramble. One section had us wedging
ourselves between two boulders, one
“My passion is the data,” Garland affirms. “My job
description didn’t say, ‘Deploy to Maine for two
weeks at a time without connectivity.’ It’s what I
thought the job demanded.”
worth mapping. Garland’s job as staff
cartographer for the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) was to inventory and
substantiate access for each trail, place
them on maps as accurately as possible,
and cement them in geologic and cartographic understanding.
For Garland, this job was no nine-tofive, punch in, punch out. At first, it wasn’t
even a paying job. Garland didn’t see a
36
overhanging, on hands and knees, then
swinging a left leg over a triangle-shaped
rock that had nearly 50 feet of exposure.
It was a sweaty-palms move that made
me glad to have a hiking partner.
Now, imagine climbing a section of
that trail by yourself. Then add a telescopic pole to the gear in your pack. It’s
jutting out at least a foot-and-a-half and
is powered by a pair of 12-volt batteries
both weighing 5 pounds. Then take away
a hand; it’s holding a small handheld
computer. On the computer, you can see
the line of the trail you are hiking, like
digital rope being laid down.
That was Garland’s set-up for hiking,
he explains after sitting down at the
brewery table. “I needed to be able to
hike 20 miles while stopping to note observations, navigate unknown trails, and
use this device to record trail alignment
at the same time,” he says, adding at the
end, “I did a lot of 20-plus-mile days.”
Looking at the way he walks, you can
see signs of it. His feet don’t rock as he
walks—they drop into place each step like
they’re being placed between two roots.
His slight frame leans forward, making
room for an invisible telescopic pole.
He readjusts in his chair constantly, as if
sitting down isn’t normal. His hair is white,
and his vintage baggies are faded, but his
eyes flicker with a youthful hunger.
Perhaps it’s a hunger to travel. Raised
in Greenfield, Massachusetts, the outdoors was never far. Garland could hike
in the Berkshires or head up I-91 with
his Boy Scout troop to New Hampshire.
Following his graduation from high
school, he took a gap year, or so he quips,
“two to three gap years.” During this time,
he first forayed into checklists, visiting
every state in the United States.
Eventually, he attended community
college, where he enjoyed courses in
computer programming, historical
MWVvibe.com
