Introduction

I have never been fond of the phrase “bucket list.” Maybe it is because the term has become an overused cliché that evokes thoughts of movies, books, and countless pop culture references.  Or maybe it is because the phrase gives away the ending – that the list is going to end with the proverbial bucket being kicked. Sure, we know that ending is inevitable, but it seems to me that “bucket list” unnecessarily reminds us of the fact.  Now that does not mean that I do not have such a list, because I do.  I simply prefer to call my list something else, like maybe a “life to-do list.”  A name like that puts the emphasis on life instead of on that dreadful bucket waiting to be kicked. My life to-do list has a variety of different items both big and small.  Some are already accomplished, some well within reach, and others whose attainability is in question.  A few of them: 

• Become a published writer: Done.  Sure, it was only a business article in an obscure trade journal, but it counts. 
• Visit the Baseball Hall of Fame: Done in summer 2010. 
• Bicycle a Century (100+ mile ride):  Done…8 times. 
• Visit all 50 states: 36 down, 14 to go. 
• Drive the Alaska Highway: Done. Bonus points for doing it in winter. 
• Live in Alaska: Done. 
• Visit every Major League Baseball stadium: Not even close…still 25 to go. 
• Finally earn the Bachelor’s degree I started working on in 1989:  Will happen this year if I can survive this semester.     

In a perfect world, I would celebrate accomplishing that last item by embarking on another of the items on the list: to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail.  The AT, as it is commonly known, is probably the most famous and popular hiking trail in the world.  It traverses more than 2000 miles along the Appalachian Mountains from Georgia to Maine.  It is not an idyllic walking path, but rather a challenging and intense collection of rocky ascents and slippery descents requiring endurance, patience, and perseverance. A continuous “thru-hike” from one end to the other generally takes roughly five to six months. The vast majority of those who attempt a thru-hike do not make it.  I think I could make it, but I am sure all those who fail think the same thing as they lace up their boots for the first mile of the journey. 

 But the world is not perfect, so a trip on the AT is simply not possible for me.  Work and family obligations simply will not allow me a five month furlough right now. More importantly, my finances will not allow it. Even if I had the few thousand dollars needed to outfit me for the trip, the loss of income while on the trail simply would be too much for me to overcome. My only option right now is to travel the trail from a distance, through the writings and journals of others who have had the good fortune of making the trek. So that is what I will do. I will journey up the trail through a series of personal essays that will allow readers to go along with me. I will introduce readers to the trail and the story behind its history. I will offer a guided virtual tour of the trail’s journey through the Eastern United States. I will introduce a number of personal stories from some of those who have gone before on the trail, offer insights into their motivations for hiking the trail, and look at the results of their journey.  I will look at the behind the scenes details of the AT and take a peek at what the future might hold. 

I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to a number of people: the forward-thinking visionaries who conceived the notion of such a trail; the persistent and tireless pioneers who both literally and figuratively blazed the trail; the scores of volunteer groups who work tirelessly and without fanfare to maintain and sustain the trail; and the hikers who have walked the trail and have passed along their stories for the rest of us.  I will highlight a number of these individuals through the course of my narrative.  I will provide information on how to learn more about them and their works, as well as links on how to obtain their books or writings.  Sadly, I will only be able to highlight a few of these individuals and their works.  For every one I mention, there are a hundred others just as worthy of our attention. I think that is an illustration of the power of the Appalachian Trail. It is more than simply a footpath in the woods.  Much, much more. 

Throughout the blog, I will mention a number of references, web links, books, and other sources.  When referencing websites, I will try to post web links directly into the text.  I will cite other sources as needed, and the information for those can be found in the bibliography at the end of the blog. I also will provide amazon links for some of the books along the side of the page.  In particular, I want to point out one book that has become a favorite of mine.  The Appalachian Trail Reader is a collection of a wide variety of writings edited by David Emblidge. Included in the book are historical writings from the likes of Thoreau and Thomas Jefferson, nature essays from Aldo Leopold and many others, poetry by Robert Frost and Walt Whitman, and trail journals from many hikers.  It is a fantastic collection, and one that I am thankful to have in my personal library. Many thanks to Mr. Emblidge for putting together such a useful and entertaining collection of readings about the AT.

History of the Appalachian Trail

Hiking as a leisure activity is a relatively recent development.  For much of human history, the overwhelming majority of travel occurred by walking.  Until the nineteenth century the only other modes of transport available were beasts of burden or boats and ships, and these were both limited to a select group of the population.  Most people walked everywhere they went for their entire lives. The idea of taking a hike through the woods was not an appealing one. It wasn’t often you heard one peasant say to another, “Hey, let’s walk across the valley to the mountains, and then walk up and down the mountains for fun.”  Walking was a necessity of life, not an opportunity for leisure.  One of the few accounts from antiquity of hiking for leisure can be found in Petrarch’s “Ascent of Mount Ventoux” in 1336 (full text can be found here: http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/petrarch-ventoux.asp).  This was a rare occurrence indeed for the time period, and few other accounts of recreational hiking and trekking prior to the 1800s are to be found.

Perhaps the origin of hiking in America can be traced to a lecture titled “Walking” by Henry David Thoreau from 1851. The lecture became one of Thoreau’s most famous and beloved essays (full text here: http://thoreau.eserver.org/walking.html).  In the essay, Thoreau encourages the audience to understand the relationship between humanity and nature. He sees walking as an avenue through which humans can recognize and nurture this existence with the natural world.  His opening remarks fully encapsulate this idea: 

"I wish to speak a word for nature, for absolute Freedom and Wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and Culture merely civil, — to regard man as an inhabitant, or a part and parcel of Nature, rather than a member of society." (Thoreau) 

Today this might not seem to be that revolutionary a concept, and indeed it probably is not, but at the time it was quite a novel way of thinking that few people held, and one that had not been articulated in such a forthright way. Most people viewed nature as an unlimited resource to be used, and little else. By the twentieth century, the heartbeat of America was changing.  The frontier was largely gone, the expanse from coast to coast was covered by railroad lines, automobiles roared up and down newly constructed roads, electricity and telephones were becoming commonplace.  At the same time, cities continued to expand from a steady flow of newcomers from rural areas along with the so-called “huddled masses” from across the sea. The 1920 United States Census was the first time the country’s urban population outnumbered rural residents. The country was leaving the wilderness behind for the city. Yet at the same time a small but growing movement for conservation was afoot. 

Voices from the prior century like Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and John Muir had called for a harmonious and responsible relationship between man and nature. That call had not gone totally unheeded. Yellowstone National Park had been established in 1872, and Yosemite and others had followed. President Theodore Roosevelt had championed the cause and had set aside millions of acres of public lands for preservation and recreation purposes. The National Park Service was created in 1916 to administer the growing number of public land areas.  Conservationism was alive and growing, but many were concerned that not enough was being done.  One of those concerned was a Washington bureaucrat named Benton MacKaye.

Benton MacKaye.  By Mackaye-avery.jpg: Unknown derivative work: Yllosubmarine (Mackaye-avery.jpg) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons

Benton MacKaye was a native of Connecticut and a Harvard graduate working for the United States Forest Service.  He was a lover of the outdoors and had hiked and backpacked in the mountains of New England on many occasions. In 1921, MacKaye planted the seed for the Appalachian Trail with the publication of an ambitious and extraordinary article titled, “ An Appalachian Trail: A Project in Regional Planning.” In the article (full text here: http://www.fred.net/kathy/at/mackaye.html ), MacKaye lamented the growing industrialization and urbanization that was spreading the nation.  He applauded the growth of national parks and public lands, but he also expressed concern that the vast majority of these lands were in the western part of the country and inaccessible for most Americans.   

He set forth a remarkable idea for a walking trail to traverse the Appalachian Mountain chain from New England to Georgia, an area within close proximity to most residents of the eastern United States. He advocated that the trail project be built largely by local groups along the trail route, such as local hiking, scouting and nature groups that were growing in many areas around the time of the article’s publication. This idea of cooperation would later prove to be successful in completing the trail, and the same system is still in place for trail maintenance today.

MacKaye’s vision for the trail project encompassed four features: 

1. The Trail – It was to stretch from New England to Georgia along the ridgelines of the Appalachians.  Its main purpose was envisioned as a portal through which millions could escape to nature and seek relaxation and recreation.       
2. Shelter Camps – MacKaye advocated a series of facilities for eating and sleeping, roughly a day’s walk apart from each other and much in the spirit of Swiss chalets.  They were to be noncommercial and maintained by volunteers.       
3. Community Camps – These were to be small communities adjacent to the trail built around outdoor recreation opportunities.  As with the shelter camps, MacKaye was insistent that these camps be noncommercial in nature.  The camps would consist of small numbers of private residences, with great care taken to insure that they not grow too large. 
4. Food and Farm Camps – These were the most far reaching of the MacKaye essay. He called for these camps to be agrarian communes existing for the purpose of supplying resources such as food and firewood for the people using the trail, the shelters, and the communities. (MacKaye) 

The Appalachian Trail itself would come into being in much the way the article spelled out, through the cooperation of a number of local groups and efforts, along with some assistance from government agencies. A semblance of shelter camps along the trail also grew out of this effort, and shares many of the characteristics MacKaye called for. The ideas for the community camps and the food and farm camps proved to be too optimistic and perhaps too utopian to be practical, however. All in all, the vision that would become the Appalachian Trail set forth by Benton MacKaye was a remarkable one, and each person who has walked a single step on the AT owes a tip of the cap to him for providing the call to action needed to make it possible. 

In March of 1925, the Appalachian Trail Conference (the ATC, now officially the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, http://www.appalachiantrail.org/home ) was formed for the purpose of making the dream of the AT a reality. It was created to be a confederation of local groups whose goal was to create and then maintain the trail. By 1937, the creation of the trail was complete, and a continuous footpath existed from Georgia to Maine. While the credit for the vision of the AT belongs to MacKaye, the credit for making it a reality belongs to two early leaders of the ATC, Judge Arthur Perkins and Myron Avery. Perkins was the inspiring chairman of the ATC beginning in 1928. He led efforts to create the network of trailblazers – all volunteers -- that would cross the ridges and map out the course of the trail.  After Perkins’ death, Avery took the mantle and moved forward the ATC’s efforts and saw them through to completion. While MacKaye had created the spark, it was Perkins and Avery who added the fuel needed to blaze the AT. 

World War II and the postwar 1950s brought a number of pressures on the AT as the nation continued to grow and encroach towards the mountains. At this time, much of the land still crossed privately owned property. The increased trepidation about the trail’s future led the ATC and others to redouble their efforts in calling for government assistance. The process was not easy, but finally in 1968 the National Trails System Act (NTSA) was signed, and the AT was designated a national scenic trail. The NTSA, under the umbrella of the National Park Service, enabled a number of programs in cooperation with state and local governments to safeguard the future of the AT. The process was slow at times, but 99% of the trail now is on public lands. 

Another milestone for the AT came in 1984 when the National Park Service delegated responsibility for maintenance of the AT land corridor to the ATC through its volunteer network. The Park Service recognized that they could not feasibly offer the same level of service to the AT as the coalition of volunteer groups led by the ATC.  The same spirit of volunteerism and cooperation that created the trail is still in place today to keep the trail open and clear for all. To me, this is part of the beauty of the Appalachian Trail and part of what makes it such a shining example of American freedom. The AT truly is of the people, by the people, and for the people.

About the Appalachian Trail

The Appalachian Trail travels through fourteen states, with its southern terminus at Springer Mountain, Georgia and its northern end at Mount Katahdin, Maine.  With as many as 3 million annual hikers, it is one of the most popular footpaths in the world.  It is also very long, but just how long seems hard to nail down.  The Appalachian Trail Conservancy website (http://www.appalachiantrail.org/home) lists the AT as approximately 2180 miles.  A quick internet search will yield any number of different estimates between 2100 and 2200 miles.  The wide variety of estimates for the length of the AT was commented on by author Bill Bryson in his classic A Walk in the Woods:

  "The precise length of the Appalachian Trail is a matter of interesting uncertainty.  The U.S. National Park Service, which constantly distinguishes itself in a variety of ways, manages in a single leaflet to give the length of the trail as 2,155 miles and 2,200 miles.  The official Appalachian Trail Guides, a set of eleven books each dealing with a particular state or section, variously give the length as 2,144, 2,147, 2,159, and “more than 2,150 miles.”" (Bryson 7-8) 

 For comparison, I checked a National Park Service brochure I have dated 2004, and it lists the distance as 2,170 miles.

AT pioneer Myron Avery using a surveyor wheel to measure a stretch of the trail.  Avery was chairman of the ATC from 1931 to 1952.

At first glance, it seems counter-intuitive that there could be such a variation of lengths.  Upon further analysis, however, it actually makes sense that there is no easily definable length.  The AT is a walking trail through woods, over rocks, across mountains and valleys, crossing creeks and rivers, intersecting with roads, highways, and bridges.  It is not an easy thing to measure with any degree of complete accuracy.  Yet there is more to it than that.  The AT is constantly changing for a number of reasons.  A rock slide along a mountainside could mean a rerouting of a stretch of trail.  The construction of a new road could mean a reconfiguration of a trailhead.  A flood might redirect the flow of a creek, resulting in the need for a completely new section of trail to be blazed.  Even something seemingly insignificant like a fallen tree might cause a redirection of a small segment of trail.  These occurrences happen all the time on the AT and the result is a trail that is continually evolving and changing.  By itself, a small change of a hundred feet is not significant, but a hundred such changes in a year can make quite a difference in the actual length.  So just how long is the AT?  The ATC estimate of 2,180 sounds good to me.

The AT is marked with a simple but effective 2 inch wide by six inch tall white rectangle, known as the “AT blaze.”  The blaze is found every few hundred feet along the entire length of the trail.  It is usually painted on the trunks of trees, but in stretches of trail absent trees, it can be found on rocks and even on stony stretches of ground.  

Stretching along the length of the trail at regular intervals are more than 250 shelters for hiker use.  The idea behind these shelters is that a hiker is rarely more than a day’s walk from one of them.  The shelters are varied in their design, size, and construction.  Some are new and relatively modern, while others are old and rustic like the one pictured above.  The majority of them are three-sided structures with a simple floor for sleeping.  A shelter with a solid roof is a welcome sight on a rainy night in the mountains. 

Below are definitions of other terms used on the AT:

• Thru-hike: A thru-hike is a continuous hike of the AT from one end to the other.  The vast majority who attempt a thru-hike begin in Georgia in the spring and travel northward.  A typical thru-hike takes five months or more.
• Section-hike: A section-hike is a completion of the entire trail over a course of years.  Hikers take the trail a section at a time over a few days or weeks until they complete the entire AT.
• Flip-flop: A flip-flop hike is a completion of the entire trail, but not in concurrent order.  A flip-flop hike might be undertaken in order to avoid extreme heat in summer or cold in spring or fall, or to avoid the more heavily trafficked middle portion of the trail during the height of the season.  A common flip-flop hike is going northward from Georgia to the symbolic midpoint of the trail in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, and then traveling to Maine to hike from Katahdin southward back to Harper’s Ferry. 
• 2,000-miler: This is the official designation given by the ATC for those who successfully complete the entire AT.  The annual number has risen dramatically over the past few decades.  In 1970, the total number was only 10.  In 2012, the number was 764. 
• Trail names: Thru-hikers are expected to take a trail name to be used in trail registers and journals.  A glance at the trail names from successful 2012 thru-hikers shows the great variety: http://www.appalachiantrail.org/about-the-trail/2000-milers/2000-milers-listing/2012.  Sometimes the names are simple (Thirsty, Red Hair), sometimes funny (Count Chocula, Mary Poppins), sometimes self-explanatory (N. Trovert, X. Trovert), and sometimes beyond easy explanation (2%, 2:30). 
• Trail magic: Trail magic is an AT long distance hiker’s best friend.  Trail magic is a random and unexpected act of generosity given to a hiker.  It might be a motorist at a trailhead offering cookies and soft drinks to passing hikers.  Or maybe it is a group of campers grilling burgers for hikers coming into a shelter after a long day on the trail.  Maybe it is giving a hiker a ride into the grocery store in the nearest town.  An unexpected gift of trail magic can be a tremendous pick-me-up to a tired and lonely hiker. 

A few AT facts and tidbits: 

• Only about a quarter of those who attempt a thru-hike are successful.
• Women make up about 25% of successful thru-hikers.
• In 2012, hikers from 46 states and Washington, DC completed the AT.  Hikers from Germany, Denmark, England, Australia, Scotland, Barbados, Canada, Switzerland, Netherlands, and Singapore also were successful. 
• The oldest successful thru-hiker ever was an 81-year-old man.  
• The oldest thru-hiking woman to date was 71.  
• The youngest to complete the AT was a 6-year-old boy, while the youngest girl was 8.  Both were hiking in family groups. 
• A thru-hiker can burn as many as 6,000 calories on a long day of hiking. 
• It is estimated that more than half the United States population lives within a day’s drive of the AT.

Because the Appalachian Trail is a relatively well-marked and well-maintained footpath, it might be easy to imagine it as a simple stroll through the forest.  In fact, it is nothing of the sort.  The trail is a tough combination of back-breaking climbs and knee-buckling descents.  There are rocks, tree roots, steep drops, mud holes, sticks, and all sorts of other footfalls along the way.  A hiker might encounter snakes, bears, and poison ivy.  A hiker will encounter rats, mosquitoes, rats, mice, and other bugs.  There will be rain, wind, thunder, lightning, and maybe even snow.  Then there are blisters, sore muscles, aching knees and ankles, and sagging shoulders from the weight of a pack.  A long distance hike is, with apologies to Bill Bryson, no simple walk in the woods.  But that is part of what makes it fun.  

Packing Up

I am a road cyclist as well as being a hiker, and the two activities have a few things in common.  One of those things is the importance of having the right gear and equipment.  Success on the bike and on the trail requires one to have stuff they can count on when they hit the road or the trail.  While it isn't always true, my experience has been that you usually get what you pay for.  That doesn't guarantee that the most expensive item is always the best, but more often than not the cheapest one is usually the worst.  

A major concern for serious cyclists is weight.  Anytime my cycling friends discuss a bike part or accessory, the first question asked is almost always "How much does it weigh?"  It is a never-ending quest for a cyclist to reduce the weight on the bike.  Every ounce eliminated is one less ounce to have to pedal up a steep incline.  A smart backpacker has to think the exact same way.  That doesn't always happen, though.  Humorist and outdoor writer Patrick McManus tells us how not to plan the weight of your pack:

"The rule of thumb for the old backpacking was that the weight of your pack should equal the weight of yourself and the kitchen range combined.  Just a casual glance at the full pack sitting on the floor could give you a double hernia and fuse four vertebrae.  After carrying the pack all day, you had to remember to tie one leg to a tree before you dropped it.  Otherwise you would float off into space.  The pack eliminated the need for any special kind of ground-gripping shoes, because your feet would sink a foot and a half into hard-packed earth, two inches into solid rock." (Emblidge 74)

In spite of all the warnings about watching the weight of pack and equipment, most thru-packers still start out with too much weight.  They end up jettisoning items that are not necessities within the first few days on the trail.  They give away extra food to other hikers, and mail home equipment they think they can do without.  One of the items that most often gets mailed home, given or thrown away is books.  Hikers often think they will hike all day and then spend a leisurely evening reading by a campfire.  In reality, they usually are too tired to read at night anyway, so the books get left behind.

Proper outfitting for a long hike is not cheap.  It is difficult for a hiker to get everything they need for less than $1,000.  In addition to expense, it also takes a great deal of planning.  A hiker has to research equipment and clothing to find what works best for them.  It is not a matter of simply stopping by a Wal-mart and grabbing a few things.  Success on the trail starts weeks before hitting the woods, and lies in finding just the right equipment.

Successful thru-hikers also do extensive planning of their schedule up the trail.  They study maps and guides to know approximately where they will be at certain times.  They plan trips into towns along the trail and know where they can obtain needed supplies and food along the way.  Most of them have family or friends who mail packages of needed items to post offices in trail towns.  The post offices then hold the packages until the hikers pass through.  Proper planning of these mail drops can be the difference between success and failure.

        

Georgia

Trail Miles: 75*
Highest Point: Blood Mountain, 4,461 feet

*As mentioned previously, trail lengths vary from one to source to another.  For the blog, I will round off the lengths given by David Emblidge in The Appalachian Trail Reader.

The majority of thru-hikers start their quests at the southern terminus of the AT located at Springer Mountain, Georgia.  Many people who have never been in the northern part of Georgia might be surprised to find such mountainous terrain there.  For many, the image conjured up of Georgia are the rich farmlands on plantations from Gone With the Wind or of streets of Savannah lined with live oak trees draped with Spanish moss.  These images are correct, but there is another side to Georgia.

Less than a hundred miles north of the traffic gridlock of Atlanta, the Appalachian Mountains rise steeply and ruggedly from the Georgia clay.  One of those mountains is Springer Mountain.  Springer Mountain became the Southern start of the AT in 1958, when the trail was rerouted away from its original starting point of Mount Oglethorpe due to increased commercial and residential development in that area.

I grew up in much shorter and more tame mountains three hours to the west of Springer Mountain in Northeast Alabama.  Even though I was from the general area, I too was surprised by the ruggedness of the North Georgia mountains upon my first visit deep into them.  In addition to hiking, the area is popular with cyclists.  Each fall there is a century (100-mile) bicycle ride in the vicinity of the AT start called Six Gap.  As the name suggests, the ride traverses six different gaps through the mountains.  While I have never done the ride, some of my friends have.  They say it contains some of the most difficult hill climbs they have ever ridden.  

The AT section of Georgia contains some of these same rugged ascents and descents.  The AT starts out with a vengeance, and quickly dashes any hopes that an AT thru-hike will be an easy stroll.  In fact, some estimates say 15% of thru-hike attempts are abandoned before leaving the state of Georgia.  

While most do not abandon the trail in Georgia, they probably do stop at Mountain Crossings Outfitter (http://www.mountaincrossings.com/aboutus.asp) at Neels Gap (one of those six gaps mentioned above) to dump excess weight.  According to the store's website, they annually ship back home over 9,000 pounds of gear for hikers who packed too much.  

The weather in Georgia in spring can be very unpredictable, too.  There can be freezing temps and even snow at around the time many thru-hikers are starting.  But very warm temps in the 80s are also possible around the same time.  Sometimes one will see both extremes in the same week.  You just never know.  One thing you can usually count on in spring on the Georgia stretch of the AT is rain.  If you can get to North Carolina without any rain, count yourself lucky.

The opening 75 or so miles of the AT in Georgia are tougher than most people expect, with its steep climbs and unpredictable weather conditions.  It is truly a wake-up call for many who assume it will be an easy start.  And guess what: it doesn't get any easier in North Carolina.

North Carolina

Trail Miles: 96
Highest Point: Standing Indian Mountain, 5498 feet (not counting peaks shared with Tennessee inside the Great Smoky Mountains National Park)

The mountains of Western North Carolina are one of my favorite places on earth.  They are the heart of the stretch of the Appalachians known as the Blue Ridge Mountains, with the diverse forests often giving off a bluish haze that can be seen rising out of the valleys and hollows.  The area's natural beauty never ceases to instill in me a sense of awe and humility.  The term "God's Country" can be overused, but it certainly fits this place.

In 1996, my wife's family went on a camping trip to Standing Indian Mountain Campground near Franklin, North Carolina.  Standing Indian Mountain is just north of the Georgia-North Carolina state line, and the AT passes through the campground.  My wife's parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle and their kids all joined us and our 11-month old daughter Chelsea.  It was the week of Labor Day, as summer was passing the torch to fall.  Everyone in the group had a fantastic time, except for Chelsea.  She yelled and screamed every night for hours before she finally went to sleep.  One of our neighbor campers commented that if nothing else, she kept the bears away from the campground.

One day several of us drove over to the trailhead at Wayah Bald, a mountain almost 5,400 feet high a few miles from the campground.  A bald is a mountain peak where the top is cleared of trees for some unexplained reason.  There are many of these balds in the mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina.  This phenomena is unlike the mountains on the trail in New Hampshire and Maine whose peaks are above the treeline.  It isn't that trees cannot grow on these mountain tops.  They can; they just don't.  I have read a number of theories as to why this happens, and all of them seem plausible.  I am no expert in this matter, so I will not speculate further.  Bottom line is that there is a large bald grassy spot on top of Wayah Bald and other balds like it in the area.

Wayah is the Cherokee word for wolf, and it was named for the wolves who once occupied the area.  We hiked to the top of Wayah Bald that day, and it was tough.  Very tough.  The reward awaiting us at the top made all the sweat and struggle worth it.  The view we saw was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen.  Mile after mile of undulating mountains stretched in all directions.  If I had not already been out of breath from the climb, it would have taken by breath away.

This area of the country is wild and rugged.  It is in these mountains that Atlanta Olympic bomber Eric Rudolph successfully eluded authorities for a number of years.  This ruggedness and remoteness make this stretch of the AT difficult to negotiate.  This stretch of trail can also taunt a hiker as he or she reaches the each peak.  As they look to the west from their perch at the end of a long climb, they can see higher peaks waiting for them to the west in the Great Smoky Mountains.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Me near where the AT crosses Clingmans Dome in the GSMNP.  Taken in April, 2009.

Trail Miles: 72

Highest Point: Clingmans Dome, 6,643 feet.  This is also the  highest point on the Appalachian Trail

I am including the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (GSMNP) as a state entry because the section of trail through the park roughly follows along the border between Tennessee and North Carolina.  In some places you need a GPS unit or a surveying crew to know for sure which state you are actually in.  Sometimes you might have one foot in each state.  

I grew up four hours south of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and I have probably been there fifty times.  It is an incredible place filled with a great variety of plant and animal life.  There are hundreds of native flowering plants, as well as wide variety of mosses, lichens, and fungi.  And trees.  Lots of trees.  There are an estimated 130 species of tree native to the GSMNP; that is more than the entire continent of Europe.  Many of those trees are old, too.  The park has the largest concentration of old growth forest in the Eastern US.  The park is a lush and green place, thanks to an average rainfall of 50-80 inches a year and high relative humidity during the growing season.

These woods are also filled with a huge variety of animals.  There are about 50 species of mammals, including black bears, deer, raccoons, foxes, and even flying squirrels.  There are even 30 varieties of salamanders in the park.  Birds fill these trees and the sky, too, as many as 200 different species.  Birds native to the park range in size from the tiny titmouse to the wild turkey. 

The two black spots are young black bear cubs trailing along behind Momma Bear, who is just out of the photo to the left.  Taken spring, 2009.

A mother raccoon hides in a hollowed out tree along a trail.  Spring, 2009.

The Great Smoky Mountains have a lot going for them.  They possess a great natural beauty and are teeming with wildlife, including the estimated 1,500 black bears live in the park.  The park is easily accessible for millions, within a day's drive for about a third of the US population.  A number of towns surrounding the park offer a multitude of lodging, dining, and recreation options.  All these things help make the GSMNP the most visited national park in the country.  Some years it receives twice the amount of visitors that the second most visited park gets.  All these visitors take a toll on the park.  There are few roads through the park, thankfully, but the ones there can be a logjam during busy weekends in the summer and fall.  On busy days, parking lots at trailheads, visitor centers and picnic areas are filled beyond capacity 

A number of years ago, not long after my wife and I were married, we went to the Smokies for a long weekend.  One day we were in Gatlinburg, the tourist town at the most heavily used park entrance on the Tennessee side of the park.  We stopped in a small shop along the main street.  While we browsed, the store's only employee on duty struck up a conversation with us.  He told us he was a park ranger in the park, and he worked this store job because the ranger pay was so low.  It was sad to hear that he had to work another job in order to be able to afford to do the ranger job he loved.

As we talked, he told us something that was even more sad.  He said that he loved the park and couldn't imagine being anywhere else, but the people were ruining it.  He said that he could walk through the most remote parts of the park, places so remote he would think no human had pass there in a hundred years.  Then he would look down at his feet and find a Snicker's wrapper.  He worried about the future of the park if people did not learn to treat it with respect. 

The stretch of the AT that travels through the GSMNP is the highest stretch of the trail, and it is tough going.  At Clingmans Dome, the AT reaches its highest point.  This is also the third highest point east of the Mississippi.  In addition to this peak, a number of others offer breathtaking views of the surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains to the east and the Cumberland Plateau to the north and west.  One of the most beautiful vistas on the entire AT is Charlies Bunion (link: http://www.nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit/chimneys-alternative-charlies-bunion.htm) 

My daughter Casey atop a pile of snow left from winter at Clingmans Dome trailhead parking lot, April 2009.

When I think of the Appalachian Trail, the first thing that comes to mind is the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  The park is the only place many hikers ever experience the AT.  If they can only hike a stretch of the trail, the 70 or so miles in the GSMNP are the best possible place to be.  I wish I was there now.      

Tennessee

Nolichucky River Valley {By Mark Fickett (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons}

Trail Miles: 70
Highest Point: Roan Mountain, 6,285 feet

The AT exits the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in the northeastern corner of the  Tennessee.  This stretch of trail is equal parts rugged and splendid.  The peaks here are steep, high, and sometimes rocky.  The Roan High Knob Shelter is along this stretch, and it holds the distinction of being the highest elevation of any backcountry shelter on the trail.  The area is also home to a number of bare mountaintop balds, including Grassy Ridge Bald.  Grassy Ridge is one of the highest balds anywhere in the Eastern US, with an elevation over 6,000 feet, and at over seven miles it is the longest in the Appalachians.  The AT traverses Grassy Ridge Bald.

To think that the trail is leaving the Great Smoky Mountains could give the impression that you might be heading for an easy section.  This impression is wrong.  This is a brutal stretch of trail.  A frustrated hiker named Mic Lowther described it in his trail journal:

"The section between Whistling Gap and Spivey Gap proved to be totally absurd...They run you straight up a hill to see 'splendid views' of the same damn mountains you've seen all week, then dump you over the side for a descent so steep it's barely possible to stand up.  The climb over High Rocks was unnecessary and pointless.  We were all fairly sputtering." (Emblidge 157-158)  

This area is also the home of a small river called the Nolichucky.  The Nolichucky crosses the AT near the small town of Erwin, Tennessee.  There is dispute as to what Nolichucky means.  While there is consensus that the name's origin is Cherokee, the interpretations vary from "spruce-tree place" to "dangerous waters" to the local favorite (and least likely) "river of death."  Whatever the meaning, the area is breathtakingly beautiful.  There is one stretch where the river cuts through the mountains, and a railroad cuts its way through between the river and a wall of rock, just a few hundred feet below where the AT crosses the ridges.  It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

This stretch of trail reminds me of the power and unpredictability of nature.  I learned this not on the trail, but in the water.  For a number of years, my wife and I attended an annual corporate event held in Johnson City, Tennessee.  As part of the event, there was always an activity day where participants could choose what they wanted to do.  One year, we chose to go on an all-day rafting trip on the Nolichucky River.

There were two different rafting options.  One was the traditional multi-person raft with about six rafters and a guide.  The other option was a little contraption that was basically a single-person inflatable kayak (they had some clever sounding name for it but I can't remember what it was).  I was intrigued by the little kayak thing, so I gave it a shot, while my wife went in the big raft with our friends.  As the guides prepared us for the trip, they were very insistent that the kayak was not easy.  They did everything to warn rafters that they were much more difficult than the big guided rafts.  

I was confident in my abilities to handle the kayak, and I told them I was sure I wanted to try it.  And I tamed the river that day.  I never had a minute's problem, and I didn't even get wet.  As a matter of fact, I stayed so dry that the tops of my legs were severely sunburned from being stretched out in the sunshine all day as I cruised down the river.  I felt like I was an expert at this rafting business.  

The next year, we decided to raft again.  We got to the rafting launch point, and the guides again went through their spiel about how tough the kayak was to maneuver down the river.  Then they added that this year, heavy rains over the past few weeks had made the river much rougher and more dangerous than they had ever seen it before.  They discouraged anyone from using the kayaks because of the high rapids.  I told them I was sure I could handle it.  I had done it before with zero problems and was sure I could do the same this year.

Famous last words...almost.  After no more than ten minutes on the river, I could tell that they were right.  This was the same place I had been last year, but it seemed like a different river.  It was fast, wild, and scary.  I knew I had made a mistake, but it was too late to do anything about it.  Besides, I would have also had to admit I had been overconfident and wrong.  That was not going to happen.  

I went down the rough and fast rapids, and somehow I did make it all the way to the end of the trip.  I was even in the kayak part of the time.  I spent the whole day bouncing off rocks, bruising and scratching arms, legs, feet, back, and front.  I felt like an old sock in an industrial strength washing machine.  I thought I was drowning at least five different times.  It was awful.  I survived but I looked like I had been in a fight with a truckload of gravel.

The power of nature that made my rafting trip a nightmare is a reminder to me of the attention that good hikers pay to the conditions around them.  The weather along the trail is something that must be taken seriously.  A hiker will likely experience every possible element of weather on a thru-hike.  Being aware of what is going on around and having the necessary equipment can be the difference between life and death.