"'Fastest Known Time', sounds impressive. Didn't know that time could actually go fast", said Eddy Tredsucker, famous trail personality, who has gone ever so far in his day, in practically no time at all. "But I did it," he adds. Check.
In case you care. Some don't. Most don't. And the rest don't know what it is. Usually it's called "FTK", and signifies a speed record.
But as the great Yossarian said, "the idea of pennants as prizes was absurd. No money went with them, no class privileges. Like Olympic medals and tennis trophies, all they signified was that the owner had done something of no benefit to anyone more capably than everyone else." -- Joseph Heller, "Catch-22"
In this case it's faster.
For some, that is important. For others, it's delusion. Especially for backpackers. But then again, a lot of them eat it up because backpacking, the least glamorous sport, is still, when you get right down to it, a bunch of walking. Yesterday. Today again. And then more tomorrow. Often not even a little fun. And after a while the monotony gets to be a whole lot more than just a loud annoying hum. Gigantically more, and if you know about this "FTK" stuff, at least you can pretend that it has some importance, some significance. That you are a part of something, even if it is entirely and completely pointless.
But no one knows what backpacking is, mostly. No, not really. Only backpackers. Some backpackers.
If you start talking about backpacking, then if anything, anyone within earshot who might possibly maybe have heard of "backpacking" once upon a midnight dreary will think that you are a 22-year-old derelict, college student (or both), who is mindlessly traveling the world, sleeping in bug-infested hotels stinking of stale urine, lustily gobbling any and all drugs, collecting infections, covered in scabs, and endlessly scratching. And maybe that is you.
Only backpackers though, only backpackers know that backpacking is really about sleeping in the dirt, trudging mud, shivering though rain and cold, feeding your blood to swarming mosquitoes and flies, eating vile food (if any), stinking, doing more stinking, and endless scratching. See the difference? Maybe.
Some, in addition, knowing full well what backpacking is, having done some, even a lot, and knowing full well what the challenges are even if they themselves have not whacked the wasp's nest that record setting is, think of "FTK" as "Frothy Knackered Twits". And who is to say that they are wrong? Who? Eh?
Take Hester "Anguish" Anderlass, who established an FTK on the Amazing National Scenic Trail (AZT) in 2016. Desert sunshine. Spiders. Some rain. Well-marked trail. Stunning views. Easy walking. Dust. Difficult trail. Ups and downs. Eyes in the grass. Strange noises. Odd encounters. Cow shit water. A Norwegian. Deer, skunks. Grasslands. Cool. Hot. No. Yes. Realizing that one day she would die. Days up to 50 miles long.
Then blinking a few times and wondering what had just happened.
Typical. Pretty typical backpacking, except for the 50-mile-days, and the excessively blurred memories due to the speed effects and all.
Miles — you want to do them, have to do them, can never stop or even slow down, in pursuit of doing nothing at all better than everyone else, except quicker, and you've just about got it.
She also gave a FREDx talk about it. I didn't go. Fred neither. We were thinking about Rees, Howard, and Jim and how they finished the Pacific Crest Trail in 35 years. New record. Try beating that one.
"Breaking the PCT Speed Record", by Rees Hughes
From "The Pacific Crest Trailside Reader"
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Me? Still pointless.