Three days later, my legs still ached, my left foot still hurt, and my gear still laid around the house. My niece, Stacia, and I continued to groan as we walked down the steps and chuckled at the whole experience—our two days as newbies on the Appalachian Trail.
The journey began with research, preparation and some anxiety. The research started a few years earlier when I became enamored with the trail and started reading first-hand accounts of thru-hikers, the term given to those who endeavor to hike the entire 2,189 miles from Georgia to Maine. These books included the popular “A Walk in The Woods” by Bill Bryson and the ambiguous “Footpath My Ass” by Terry “Bluebird” Croteau, a 40-something woman who decided to take the journey solo.
The preparation began as soon as my niece, who planned on visiting the East Coast from Colorado, offered the opportunity to hike together. We considered doing a weeklong trek, but good sense and lack of time made us consider a shorter, three-day trip. We decided to use this as a test run.
I started training by walking in my newly purchased hiking boots, with a backpack weighed down by canned goods. Just a few pounds at first, with weekly additions of weight. My friend’s son, an eagle scout, lent me a proper backpack so that I could carry the increased weight without hurting my back.
As I trudged up the hills in my suburban neighborhood, my sweaty, transient-like appearance got me more than a few sideways glances. It also triggered neighborly conversations.
Many folks offered encouragement and advice when I spoke of the trip. Ernie, 86 years old, an avid A.T. hiker from my church, was most helpful. “What if it rains, Ernie? What will we do?” I asked. His response: “You’ll get wet and keep on walking!”
However, as my niece arrived and we packed our gear, my anxiety peaked. What if something happened to me on the trail? After much fretting, thinking and some praying, I had an epiphany. Anxiety makes opportunities feel like threats, and this was a wonderful opportunity to spend time with my niece, spend time in the woods, and challenge myself. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Heat & Rocks
My husband dropped us off in Boiling Springs, picked for its distinction as the halfway point on the A.T., its locality and its strategic distance from our two scheduled stops. He would pick us up on Wednesday, 30 miles away. We’d call him when we arrived.
As soon as we stepped out on the trail, we knew we had a challenge ahead. It was hot—90-degree heat hot—and the rocks and inclines made us thankful that we had filled our CamelBaks with water. I abhor hiking in the heat, so I kept a washcloth tucked in my chest strap, which I dipped into any stream we found to cool off.
One impressive aspect of this portion of the trail is the rock maze. Located six miles outside of Boiling Springs, the maze consists of an expanse of rocks that hikers must traverse. Fellow hikers cautioned they had encountered a large black snake sunning itself on the rocks ahead. At that point, my niece asked that I take the lead.
While we didn’t find the snake, we did see an interesting assortment of mushrooms—yellow, red, white, purple and orange—patches of ferns, and tufts of moss that begged to be stroked. The combination created a fairyland-like atmosphere.
Along with the flora, we encountered fauna in the form of about 20 thru-hikers.
Thru-hikers typically have a trail name, and, on this day, we met “Gold Star,” a kilt- and safari hat-wearing young man and two section hikers (those hiking the whole trail in sections each summer) who appeared to be in their 70s. When asked their trail names, they replied “Weasel, Spice Weasel” and “Rip Van Winkle, but you can call me Rip.”
We stopped to rest on some unusually comfortable rocks. Leaning against my pack with the cool rocks on my legs, I thought a nap could be in order, but we had a 13-mile, first-day plan. That plan, however, quickly disintegrated in the heat. After nine miles, we consulted “The A.T. Guide” and decided to stop at Deer Run Campground, which charged hikers only $10 for a tent site.
Stacia had a hankering for some hot dogs, but the camp store was out. Mercifully, the campground hosts provided us with four yummy frankfurters. Weary and achy beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, I took three Ibuprofen and slept restlessly.
Lightning Bait
Morning broke, and we ate our dehydrated eggs and bacon, surprisingly tasty, with water heated by my compact Bleuet camp stove.
Lingering weariness, high heat and humidity and forecasted storms caused us to once again revise our strategy. We would make a short day of it and stop at another campground about five miles down trail.
This area of the trail contained a small birch sapling forest. I scratched the bark, smelled to confirm the type of tree and snapped a branch for us both to have a chew—memories of my youth.
Wild blueberries grew in abundance along the trail, and a handful provided a nice treat.
Unfortunately, we overshot our turn-off because of an unmarked trail and decided to make camp and ride out the upcoming storm. However, our camp placement had one flaw, pointed out to us by a passing thru-hiker. We pitched camp on a ridge, and the beautiful view confirmed it. We were lightning bait.
With unusually heavy storms approaching, our failed plan and being dog-tired, we decided to bug out. I called my husband and instructed him to meet us at the bottom of the Pole Steeple trail (a wonderful hike under better circumstances). With Stacia’s prodding, though exhausted and doubting my ability to hike the three miles needed, we moved quickly down the mountain. As the storm intensified, so did our speed. Soaked, tired and scared, we reached the bottom and assumed the lightning safety position, crouching with feet together. Then, we waited for extraction.
Invigorated by the experience, yet nearly too tired to talk, we arrived home. Though 10 miles short of our 30-mile goal, we had accomplished much more important objectives: to enjoy nature, to have the experience together and to learn from it. I pushed myself beyond what I thought I was capable and am looking forward to doing it again.
Taking to the A.T.
Are you considering hiking the Appalachian Trail for the first time? Here are a few suggestions for fellow newbies:
- Purchase an Appalachian Trail guide. I used “The A.T. Guide” by David “Awol” Miller.
- Consult a reputable hiking site such as www.rei.com, click the “Learn” tab and navigate to “Expert Advice” for plenty of backpacking tips.
- Take a short, local trip to work out the kinks.
- Acclimate to wearing a pack.
Take a partner who shares the same goal as you.
