by David Miller
As a result of my hike, I am much more inclined to do things. I will have fewer “should have dones,” even if it means incurring some “wish I hadn’ts.” I have changed in smaller ways, too. I am friendlier and more patient. I worry less about money. I can get by with less. It is as pleasing to get rid of old stuff as it is to get new stuff. Excess is a burden, even when you are not carrying it on your back.
And in a way, I do feel proud. I feel proud of the positive influence I’ve had on my circle of friends. One friend took a month’s leave from her job to sail as a crew member on a replica of Columbus’s ship Nina.
She told me, “It [your hike] made me feel like it was okay, like I was getting permission to go. I had the impression that things like this are irresponsible. But then, when I saw someone like you who is responsible do it, I felt okay. It is not unreasonable or selfish; it is healthy.”
When she asked her boss for a leave, he said he had read about a guy who had to quit his job to hike the AT. Her boss thought it would be a great adventure for her and that she wouldn’t have to quit her job to go.
Another woman took up long morning walks and got more fit than she had been in years. Yet another friend ran a half marathon. He said I inspired him to pursue an extraordinary personal quest.
Now I am more comfortable talking with people about my experience. When they say, “I would love to do something like that,” I know how to respond.
“You can.”
Afterword
Since writing AWOL on the Appalachian Trail, I’ve received a number of messages from readers who tell me that they’ve been inspired to hike the AT. Clearly these readers have not paid attention to what I’ve written. The book is replete with tales of misery: a sprained ankle, lost toenails, blisters, and a longer list of minor inconveniences. Often I’ve thought that if I could change anything about the book, it would be to present a more upbeat perspective on the hike. With this updated edition of AWOL on the Appalachian Trail, I had the opportunity to change it, but I have not. Instead, I’ve chosen to believe that readers, far from being inattentive, do perceive the underrepresented truth that hiking the AT was an overwhelmingly positive experience.
For readers who are not to be deterred, here are the questions that I’ve most often been asked:
What gear did you use?
A complete list of my gear is on the Web site www.AwolOnTheTrail.com. The list should be considered notional because new and better choices are now available, although I still hike some every year and take essentially the same gear. At the time of my thru-hike, having a cell phone on the trail was anathema. I carried one at the start of my hike, hardly got any use from it, and sent it home after a few weeks. Cell phones are becoming standard gear because reception is increasing and pay phones are dwindling. Smart phones have become multipurpose tools that can also serve as a GPS, compass, and journal. Learn to use your gear before leaving, because you won’t want to carry manuals. Or make more use of your smart phone by loading it with manuals.
Electronic devices, such as your camera, phone, and watch, are worthy of special attention. If your watch or phone has an alarm, be sure it is off before settling into a shelter or other common sleeping area. Take the best camera that you can afford and are willing to carry. Learn how to shoot the types of pictures that you will take on the trail: close-ups of flowers; wildlife in dense, low-light woods where a flash will have a spotlight effect; hikers sitting around a campfire. Know how to use the camera’s timer or remote to take a photo of yourself alone at a scenic overlook. Take a minitripod and learn techniques for propping and stabilizing your camera.
What does it cost?
In 2003, five thousand dollars would be a good baseline. Most hikers will spend more on the gear and town stops to make the trip comfortable, and some frugal hikers will get by on less.
Opportunity cost—the income that you won’t earn while hiking—is the largest expense of thru-hiking. Hiking is as cheap as any vacation that you can take. Virtually every night’s stay can be free, and there’s enough food left in hiker boxes to eat for free. No one does this, though, as the pull of a hot shower, soft bed, and “real” food is strong. A reasonable plan might be to factor in the cost of a hotel or hostel stay and a few restaurant meals every week. A thru-hike will last fifteen to thirty weeks.
The big three gear items—pack, tent, and sleeping bag—can all be had for less than two hundred dollars each. All the gear that I started with added up to about a thousand dollars. However, I purchased an equal amount of gear that I tested and chose not to take, and I bought more gear along the way.
What’s the hardest part of the trail?
I have little doubt that with similar weather conditions and hiker fitness, slowest progress would be made through the White Mountains and southern Maine. Here the trail has its steepest ascents and descents, along with rugged, rocky terrain.
But conditions are not always the same, so the hardest part of a thru-hike is not easily predictable. The struggle to get in trail shape can outweigh initial enthusiasm. Dealing with bad weather, sickness, or injury can make any part of the trail a challenge. Emotional challenges are no less real. For some, the novelty of walking through the woods, mostly alone, without modern conveniences, is a novelty that wears off. The hardest part of thru-hiking can be dealing with loneliness, missing life as it was back home, or the temptation to jump into new endeavors.
For me, trudging through central Virginia was difficult. Reaching Virginia was a nice landmark, but then it seemed like work to register further progress. There was a rainy spell, and I had to take time off to nurse an infected blister. A too-brief visit from my family gave me a taste of what I was missing.
What’s your favorite part of the trail?
I most enjoyed my time on the trail in Maine. There were many treeless summits from which I could see a seemingly endless forest generously dotted with ponds. The trail through the White Mountains is similar but more austere, with fewer bodies of water. The section of trail from Roan Mountain through Hump Mountain was memorable for its grassy balds. The trail in and near Grayson Highlands is unique and remarkable.
Did you ever feel like quitting?
No. There’s a subtle distinction between hardship and amusement, and I more often assumed the latter. My age was an asset. I was old enough to realize the limits of my time, and I was in no rush to abandon an experience for which I might not have another opportunity. I always saw the trying moments as a component of the endeavor; they never defined it. I wanted the difficulties to end, not my hike. The times when continuing my hike was questionable due to injury strengthened my desire to finish.
Where you ever bored?
Yes. In part, that is the purpose of doing a hike. I keep myself too busy. As I said in chapter 5, hiking was a “forced simplification of my life.” We are in an era when the demand for our attention is exploding. TV, e-mail, and the Internet had blossomed before my hike, and in the short time since I’ve finished, smart phones, Facebook, and Twitter have been added to the roster. There is a danger that we can confuse being busy with being entertained and being relaxed with being bored. When hiking, we don’t just leave behind the customary distractions; we have to escape from our addiction to them. It can be a challenge to form new habits and to draw from within.
Would you do it again?
Yes. This is a reversal of the opinion that I held near the end of my hike, and I admit that I may have succumbed to selective recall. There is much to do on the AT. You cannot see it all in a single trip, and a repeat hike can be a substantially different experience.
What would you do differently?
Take more pictures. Experiment more with different hiking patterns and foods. See new spots, be more attentive. Take better care of my feet. I’d like to plan less and let every day take shape on a whim.
How did the experience change you?
My thoughts on this are unchanged from the epilogue, in which I cited patience, less concern
over money, and a greater inclination to do things. I’ll add that I did not seek these changes. Change is inevitable on such unique and prolonged endeavors, with one caveat: the journey is no cure-all. Loading it with expectations will increase the odds of a premature end. Issues festering at home will follow hikers onto the trail. If you are broke to begin with, you will be more broke upon your return. When setting out, I wanted a break from my routine; I wanted adventure. I received that, and more.
Did you plan to write a book?
No. I had written biweekly newspaper articles, and I was diligent about writing daily journal entries, but these formats were limiting. I had latent thoughts, things more worthy of discussing, that I could better explore in book format.
What are you doing now?
Since the days of my hike, I had harbored ideas about how a guidebook might be improved. In 2008 I acted on those ideas, and the result is The A.T. Guide: A Handbook for Hiking the Appalachian Trail. Development and maintenance of the guidebook consumes too much of my time, but it keeps me in touch with the AT community.
I was rehired to do the same software engineering job that I left. At times I feel stuck, in that I used my quota of time off during my prime working years. At times I feel less tethered, reassured in knowing that I can leave if I choose. I’ve done it before.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to all the hikers who were on the trail in 2003 who shared and defined my thru-hike experience. Many of my companions reviewed drafts of this book and refreshed my memory of the events. There are too many to list here; I hope I have fairly represented you in the book. Thanks to the ATC, all the other volunteer organizations, and the volunteers who—literally—make the trail.
During my hike I received help from numerous people, most notably Dan and Wilma Kesecker, who put me up while I recovered from injury. Dave Martinage (Arrow, Georgia-Maine 2002) helped with advice, encouragement, food, rides, and a place to stay. Richard Stowell (Bluejay Lafey) gave much-needed help when Juli visited. The Witchers were generous hosts. I appreciate all of the accommodations, often at significant discounts and many times for free, that I received. I am thankful to everyone, especially my coworkers, who gave me feedback, support, and encouragement while I was on the trail.
I thank ZipDrive and Leif, TrailJournals.com webmasters, for providing me with a means of organizing and posting my journal. I owe thanks to Suzy Leonard from the Florida Today newspaper for trusting me to report from the trail.
I am grateful for editorial input from John LaChance, Mike Perez, and my sister, Dee Bowman. Steve Wheeler created all the maps that appear in this book, helped with formatting the photographs, and collaborated with me on the cover design.
Thanks, Dad and Mom, for supporting me in every way possible, and Chris, who was with me in many of my early backpacking trips, and for insights into thru-hiking that helped me make the decision to go.
I thank my children, Jessie, Rene, and Lynn, for understanding my absence and for making me want to be a better person.
Last and most importantly, thanks to Juli for agreeing to the adventure, supporting me while I was hiking, and for doing the job of two parents. Juli influenced the content of this book more than any other person. She proofread and provided opinions on every aspect of the book.
About the Author
David Miller is a software engineer and writer. His book The A.T. Guide, which is updated annually, is considered a leading guidebook for those wishing to hike the Appalachian Trail. The author, his wife, and their three children reside in Titusville, Florida.
1 The name was changed in 2005 to Appalachian Trail Conservancy. For a wealth of data about the AT, visit www.AppalachianTrail.org.
2 The Appalachian Trail is marked by stripes of white approximately six inches tall and two inches wide, usually painted on trees at eye level. In the absence of trees, blazes are painted on rocks or signposts. Ideally, the blazes are spaced such that the next white blaze is visible from the current one.
3 Dan “Wingfoot” Bruce, The Thru-Hiker’s Handbook (Conyers, GA: Center for Appalachian Trail Studies, 2003). Thru-hikers most often refer to it as “Wingfoot” instead of by title. Mr. Bruce has since retired. For a contemporary guidebook, visit: www.theATguide.com.
4 Iliotibial band friction syndrome: The iliotibial band is a tendon that runs along the outside of the thigh, connected to the hip and shin. The tendon glides across the outer surface of the knee joint when the knee bends. On days when the knee is flexed more often than normal, the friction between the band and the joint causes inflammation. Stretching helps, but the real solution is prevention.
5 “Mail drop” is a box of supplies, mostly food, mailed ahead to post offices. Hotels, hostels, and outfitters also hold mail as a courtesy to hikers.
6 The superb Web site www.TrailJournals.com hosts Internet journals for hikers of all major trails.
7 Northbound and southbound hikers are most likely to meet in New England. The Bears are on an atypical, long hike started in the summer of 2002. They hiked through winter and are finishing in spring.
8 PocketMail is a device similar to a PDA. I would compose journal entries or letters on the trail and send them when I reached a phone, via an acoustic coupler.
9 “Merlin” was the only trail name I ever suggested. I received a note from Mike late in my hike that read in part: “Congratulations on your imminent completion of your through-hike! I made it about 600 miles before stopping. Actually, I went up north and climbed Katahdin and was ready to start the 100-Mile Wilderness southbound (flip-flopping) when I decided I didn’t trust one of my knees for such a long stretch with a lot of food, so I stopped for the year…Rain and Shine read your suggestion in the Brown Fork Shelter log, that I use ‘Merlin’ as my trail name, and I liked it (a lot, actually), so ‘Merlin’ it is.”
10 A “zero” is a day in which a thru-hiker does not hike. Hikers will use it as a noun or verb: “Yesterday was a zero” or “I’ll zero tomorrow.” I used the term “nero” for a day in which I walked only a few miles.
11 “Vitamin I” is a trail term for ibuprofen.
12 The balsam woolly adelgid is responsible for fir devastation. See http://www.nps.gov/grsm/pphtml/subenvironmentalfactors28.html.
13 Bear cables: A horizontal steel cable is strung between trees, supporting a vertical cable by a pulley. Hikers attach their food bags and pulley them up to a height of about fifteen feet. Bears can’t reach the food from the ground or by climbing a tree.
14 Another trail term, taken from the cartoon bear with a fondness for picnic food.
15 I would maintain the habit of treating water for the duration of my hike. I used either a pump-filtering device called First Need or drops called Aqua Mira.
16 “Ron” and “Wall Street” were not their real or trail names.
17 I would finish the trail in 146 days. I hiked on 128 days, averaging about seventeen miles per day, and took eighteen zero days.
18 Cimarron had to leave the trail a short time later with a bad knee. This would be the last time I saw him on the trail. In 2004 he resumed his hike and sent me a postcard in September of that year: “Well I finally finished doing the AT on Sept. 7. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I was the oldest (82) person on the trail. It was a perfect day when I went up the Big-K. Hope it makes me a better person.”
19 Miss Janet even wrote me after my trip to apologize for the inconvenience, exhibiting the good will that has made her extremely popular among thru-hikers.
20 The information turned out to be inaccurate. She is in remission.
21 Jess Carr, Murder on the Appalachian Trail (Radford, VA: Commonwealth Press, 1984).
22 Or so I thought at the time. Popsicle actually did continue, and she completed her thru-hike. She concocted the story about getting off the trail in case there was any attempt at retribution. The story worked; I did not learn about Popsicle’s ruse until the final draft of this writing.
23 W. Somerset Maugham, The
Razor’s Edge (New York: Penguin Books, 1984).
24 In 1980 Rosie Ruiz “won” the Boston Marathon by jumping out from among the spectators near the end of the race. She finished the New York Marathon by taking the subway.
25 Towpath details from the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Historic Park Web site: http://www.nps.gov/choh/.
26 Dharma Bum is an often-used trail name taken from the title of Jack Kerouac’s 1958 novel.
27 I mulled over trail names during the year I was preparing to start my hike. “Awol” was always my frontrunner, so I was devastated when I saw someone else start a 2003 journal on www.TrailJournals.com using the trail name “AWOL.” I kicked myself for procrastinating on the start of my own journal. A few weeks later, the hiker decided to abandon the name. This seemed to confirm that “Awol” was meant to be my trail name. Skittles is the hiker who had changed his mind about using “AWOL.”
