This is the official website of my 2004 southbound Appalachian
Trail thru-hike.
The Appalachian Trail (AT) is a "Foot Traffic Only" trail which runs the
length of its namesake mountains from Mt. Katahdin in Maine's Baxter State
Park to Springer Mountain in Amicalola Falls State Park in northern Georgia.
The AT was originally conceived as 2000 miles, but since the trail is being
continually reconstructed and re-routed, it has undergone a certain amount
of meandering and lengthening. By the latest count the trail is 2,174 miles
long. It is the longest footpath in the world.
It was originally envisioned by Benton MacKaye in the 1920's as a recreational
resource for a nation he found too tense and overworked. The trail slowly
became a reality, first linked completely in 1937, but early trail maintenance
being patchy at best, the AT frequently became incomplete again due to storms
and blowdowns. Though most, including MacKaye, imagined people would use
the trail for day hikes or short section hikes, the first acknowledged thru-hiker,
Earl Shaffer, northbounded in 1948. He hiked it all again, this time southbound,
in 1965, and again 50 years after his first hike, becoming the oldest thru-hiker
at 79.
Since the early years the AT's following has skyrocketed. According to the
Appalachian Trail Conference website, hikers from Australia, The Bahamas,
Belgium, Canada, Chile, the Czech Republic, Denmark, England, Finland, France,
Germany, India, Ireland, Israel, Japan, Mexico, Morocco, New Zealand, Norway,
South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and the Netherlands have reported
completing the Trail. It is estimated that every year 4 or 5 million people
use the trail for any kind of distance, explaining the spoof which amended
its official title "Appalachian National Social (not Scenic) Trail." A small
fraction attempt to walk the whole thing, and, of those, only 3 in 20 gain
"2000-miler" status. The legendary "Baltimore Jack" has hiked every season
for the past 8 years. The "Barefoot Sisters" northbounded some years ago.
They amazed even the most devoted trail-rippers by turning around and walking
back to Georgia. Barefoot. "Wyoming Skateboarder" carried over 80lbs because
he thought he should bring "two of everything" and carried a kayak paddle
as his walking stick. "Flying Porkchop" started as clinically obese, finished
emaciated. Eustace Conway hiked the whole way hunting and gathering everything
he ate. It has been run in under 40 days; it has been hiked piecemeal over
decades.
The AT attracts hikers from all walks of life, all ages, all budgets. On
my section hikes of Maine and New Hampshire over the summers of 2002 and
2003, respectively, I quite simply fell in love with the subculture of AT
hikers. On the trail, the gap between perfect stranger and good friend shrinks
to almost nothing due to the common goal you share. Very often you have
little nothing in common with your fellow hiker except that you are both
willing to walk over 2,000 miles, walking over the same mountains and crossing
the same rivers to do it. You know that every week of unrelenting rain in
the sodden Maine lowlands just makes the sun and the breeze above treeline
all the more precious. You know that every mile is worth more than either
terminus.
The bond is tight, and the trust that develops is strong. Your fellow hiker
is the one who will carry you to town if you break a tibia. Your fellow
hiker will pass you his stove if you run out of fuel. Even past hikers return
to trailheads to perform "Trail Magic," anonymously left pleasantries for
passing hikers. A tin of chocolate chip cookies. A cooler containing 12
cokes, 12 waters, 12 Pabst Blue Ribbons and a register to sign your
name and say thanks. Thru-hikers on the whole are generous, fun-loving if
not outright hedonistic, and hungry. Their annual gathering is called Trail
Days, usually held in the middle of May in Damascus, Va., often called "the
friendliest town on the trail." Trail Days, by all accounts, is as gleeful
and spectacular a gathering as any biker rally.
On this website, which has been created by my mother, Susan, you can read
periodic dispatches, complete with pictures, which I will make from sufficiently
equipped towns.
I begin on June 15 at the northern terminus, the 5,268' summit of Mt. Katahdin.
A noteworthy factoid is that Katahdin's summit is the first piece of the
United States to receive the sun's rays every morning. Because Maine is
by far the most remote in terms of frequency of towns and availability of
resources, my first dispatch may not arrive until somewhere in New Hampshire,
where things start to get populated.
Because there are so many variables in a hike of this length it is rather
pointless to predict a finish line date. I conceive that the walk will take
me at least 5 and potentially a bit over 6 months.
As long as I get home by Thanksgiving.


