Skywalker--Close Encounters on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

their home state in 2001 and managed to make it all the way to Georgia. The very next year they turned around and hiked northbound from Georgia back to Maine.



The Mountain Marchin’ Mamas were six middle-aged women from Sarasota, Florida, who set off on the AT in 1978. Their goal was to hike 100 miles a year. In 1999, five of the six—the other dropped out in the fifteenth year due to injury—completed their marathon section hike. They were so gratified by the experience that they funded the construction of the Roaring Fork Shelter in North Carolina and started a still very active local AT Club in their hometown.

     
    The AT has had a steadily upward trajectory in terms of popularity and participation. By 2005 the annual hiker population had reached an estimated four million. Its thirty-one trail-maintaining clubs boast a combined membership of more than a hundred thousand people. One could credibly say it has worked out almost perfectly. It’s well within modest driving distance for many of the nation’s eastern population centers. It winds through the wildest and most mountainous areas in the eastern United States, including two of its greatest national parks. Its topography and terrain are extraordinarily varied, from gentle wooded walkways to bogs, streams, and steeply inclined rock scales. The plants and fauna are of the widest variety, and supplemented by a plethora of water sources. And the trail ends with that jewel of a state, Maine.
    With such a storied history it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking it would have happened one way or another, regardless of particular individuals or events. But a close look at its storied history reveals that in fact a linked trail running almost the length of the country so near major population centers was anything but a foregone conclusion. After all, the other large countries, Russia, Canada, and China, have no footpaths even approaching the AT in terms of geographic diversity or popularity. But from its inception the AT has been a model public-private partnership. The Appalachian Trail is an American success story.

Chapter 4
     
    O ne of the more embarrassing scenarios for a thru-hiker is to set off for Maine, but not even make it out of Georgia. Apparently, 20 or 25 percent of wanna-be thru-hikers suffer just such a fate. Tales are legion (“Nobody ever told me about all these mountains out here”) of just such mishaps. Thus, I derived a small measure of solace upon crossing the North Carolina border, although I still felt unsettled from the abandoned backpack incident and it was going to be several days before arriving in town to re-supply.
    I climbed steadily to the Muskrat Creek Shelter, which at 4,600 feet, is one of the most elevated shelters on the AT. I was delighted to see Seth and amazed to see Study Break on hand. “You’re the most improved hiker on the trail,” I noted to Study Break.
    “I’ve already dropped twenty pounds,” he cheerfully noted, “and am picking up speed.”
    Despite the beautiful weather, I was having trouble staying warm as the cool late afternoon wind wafted over the mountain. Further, the shelter’s open side was exposed to a stiff late-afternoon breeze. And Warren Doyle’s axiom that a thru-hiker should hike long hours on nice days still infected me. Thus, I decided to assert my independence and move on from where everybody else was going to stay. Before leaving, the conversation at the shelter turned to wild boars. “They’re nocturnal animals,” Seth said, “and can be quite mean.” With that soothing thought in mind I headed out from the shelter alone, at dusk.
    My goal was to find a lower elevation to set up my tarp and stay warm, but no appreciable descent presented itself. After a couple miles I came to an old jeep road called “Chunky Gal Trail” which looked like it had some spots flat enough to string the tarp to some trees.
    After setting up “camp” and climbing into my sleeping bag it became clear