When I was a kid, we used to travel from Detroit, up through Canada and back down into New England nearly every summer. We camped in small leaky backpacking tents and drove either a Chevette, a Dodge Omni, or later a minivan. We'd spend nearly a week hiking the Appalachian trail, specifically the Presidential Range and it was grueling. We hiked 4-8 miles a day. Sometimes it rained, or hailed. The wind was fierce. I absolutely loathed it, until we'd reach the hut where we would stay the night. The huts were pure magic. This is me somewhere along the journey. Circa 1982 or so.