Trail names are an interesting thing. Most people have something in mind, but most people also respect the unspoken rule that your trail name cannot be self-given. It must come from the trail itself and the people you will meet there. Sometimes the ideas that you had for your trail name and the name that others come up with for you (undoubtedly based on some moment other than your finest or most intelligent) end up being similar.
Usually, they don’t.
I always imagined receiving name with a certain amount of prestige such as Strider or Aragorn (for all y’all Lord of the Rings fans). Instead, I found myself at the top of Donohue Pass on the John Muir Trail in September of 2020, laying awkwardly on a rock while clumsily rotating my Garmin InReach, attempting to calibrate and correct its internal altimeter that had been giving strikingly incorrect readings for several days. I’m pretty sure I was grumbling loudly about the device. It was there, on that rock, in the midst of what was not necessarily my finest moment (I blame the lack of oxygen at 11,000 feet) that I met Morgan and Emily, some fellow JMT hikers. I think someone asked what time it was.
I answered. My response was incorrect.
Fast forward a couple hours, and we had decided to hike together to the next resupply point at Red’s Meadow. As we walked, they explained that they had apparently been right behind me ever since the trailhead at Happy Isles. They knew this because of my unique Altra footprints that they had been following closely since the beginning of their hike out of boredom (It happens, even on the best trails). We confirmed that the soles of my shoes did indeed match the imprints they had been tracking. Mystery solved.
As we walked down the trail, someone once again inquired about the current time. I eagerly responded. I was wrong again. This time they noticed. Whenever I travel, I never deviate from the current time in Middle Tennessee. It simplifies things and, especially when travelling west, results in a more trail appropriate daily schedule. It also results in complete and utter confusion whenever someone asks, or plans are being made. That’s a price I’m willing to pay. Central Time is where I live and therefore is the time zone that I use.
After substantial contemplation and debate, I was dubbed with the name “Altrometer on Central Time” as we approached Red’s. An amalgamation of my struggles with technology, my distinctive tracks, and my propensity to eagerly and unknowingly dispense misinformation at will, it wasn’t as exciting as being named after an epic fantasy man’s man, but it fit, and even more important, it stuck. It was shortened to “Central Time” for simplicity.
I hope to meet y’all out on the trail at some point. Just remember not to ask me what time it is unless you are prepared to conduct some mental acrobatics. – Central Time
