The Walk

Welcome to the Walk

THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL: A 2167 Mile Hike.

During 2001 friend of this Web Site Paul "Wings" Armstrong walked the Appalachian Trail in America.

The walk was a real Epic. This Section of the site contains some of Paul's thoughts and e-mails during the trip as well as a snap or two. (click any of the thumbnails to enlarge.)

A Brief Introduction

Stretching from Georgia in the Deep South to Maine in the far North - East, a single main path follows the Appalachian mountain range through 14 US States boasting a varied and stunning scenery. The mountains dissect a very populated and industrial part of the East Coast of America and for some 70 years have been a sense of recreation and escape for many Americans, many for weekend outings and some to re-evaluate their lives over a six month through hike. The mountains and surrounding lands seem to have a strong spiritual and cultural feel to the people who live there and the people who visit. The trail itself combines terrain that covers populated areas and towns through to expansive wilderness, particularly in the north.

Don't Jump !

The whole idea of a through hike is a challenge in itself bearing in mind the general rocky mountainous terrain, some extreme variances in weather and temperatures and the general physical hardships of carrying a 50Ib pack nearly 2500 miles. However hardships aside, to complete the trip successfully will have been total elation for those that have done it. I have set myself this challenge and will begin my journey at Springer Mountain in Georgia in early March 2001 hoping to complete the whole journey by early August at Katahdin in northern Maine 2158 miles later.

As a warm up to the real thing Paul spent most of the previous December yomping around Nepal.

A brief history of the trail

The Appalachian Trail was designed, constructed, and marked in the 1920s and 1930s by volunteer hiking clubs joined together by the Appalachian Trail Conference (ATC). Formed in 1925 and now a nonprofit organization based in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, the ATC had the National Park Service, Forest Service, states, and local communities as active partners in the trail project from the beginning. The Forest Service and states acquired much of its land and administer 850 and 420 trail miles, respectively.

Most great ideas begin life as idle conversation. A "super trail" was much talked about in turn-of-the-century hiking circles of New England. "The AT" evolved from the 1921 proposals of Massachusetts regional planner Benton MacKaye to preserve the Appalachian crests as an accessible, multipurpose wilderness belt—a retreat from Eastern Urban life. (Two-thirds of the Nation's population lives within 550 miles of it.) The old clubs that united behind MacKaye, plus the new clubs formed specifically to advance the AT idea, concentrated on the hiking aspects of his vision, under the leadership of Myron H. Avery, ATC chairman from 1931 to 1952. The clubs, the two federal agencies, states, and the Depression-era Civilian Conservation Corps combined forces to open a continuous trail by August 1937. Hurricanes, highway construction, and demands of World War II undid those efforts until 1951 saw all sections finally relocated, opened, and marked for hikers and nature lovers.

The 1968 National Trails System Act made the AT a linear national park and authorized funds to surround the entire route with public lands, either federal or state, protected from incompatible uses. The goal is to maintain the entire Trail environment as a place for everyone to hike, backpack, or otherwise enjoy the Appalachian mountains and wildlands, while at the same time conserving the natural, scenic, historical, and cultural resources of this one-of-a-kind park.

The Trail State by State

Georgia

The Trail in Georgia lies entirely within Chattahoochee National Forest. The wildness, elevation, and ruggedness of the area are decidedly unexpected. As highways cross the Blue Ridge at intervals of a moderate day's journey, the Trail in this area is readily accessible and offers many options for splendid trips. Springer Mountain marks the beginning or end of the Trail—as you will!
Tennessee and North Carolina

From Damascus, VA, the Trail follows segments of mountain ranges in Cherokee National Forest to the North Carolina-Tennessee line above the famous Roan Mountain, noted for its rhododendron gardens and far-ranging views. From here along the two states' boundary and beyond through Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina, the Trail provides a most rewarding introduction to the majesty of the southern Appalachians. Great Smoky Mountains National Park, with 70 crest-line Trail miles, is a most primitive section and the highest of the entire route. Beyond the Great Smokies comes the Yellow Creek-Wauchecha-Cheoah Mountain areas, which are difficult to traverse because of steep elevation changes. Next is the outstanding Nantahala section, with 4,000-foot gaps and 5,000-foot peaks, but most rewarding in its views, culminating in Standing Indian, the "Grandstand of the Southern Appalachians." The variety of forest growth and the beauty of the flowering shrubs, as well as the spectacular views, make the entire Trail from the Virginia line a most outstanding area.

From here the Trail route crosses west of the Shenandoah Valley. The portion in southwest Virginia affords a splendid wilderness trip. In both Jefferson and George Washington national forests, the floral displays in June and July of rhododendron and azalea are outstanding. The trail continues roughly parallel to but generally many miles removed from the Blue Ridge Parkway. It crosses the Parkway two times in one 70-mile stretch. It is then close to it, with several crossings, for a short distance in Jefferson National Forest. This is a section of mature timber and wilderness with high summits, more impressive, perhaps, than any region to the north.
Virginia

One-fourth of the Appalachian Trail lies in Virginia. Shenandoah National Park has 100 miles of graded Appalachian Trail and many side trails. The proximity of Skyline Drive—the trail crosses it 32 times—and connecting links offer endless varieties of trips never too far from a potential base of supplies. Views here are extraordinary.
West Virginia

The Trail crosses the Potomac River into West Virginia at Harpers Ferry on a new footbridge built onto a railroad bridge. ATC headquarters is at the corner of Washington and Jackson Streets, uphill from Harpers Ferry National Historical Park. The Trail soon leaves West Virginia across the Shenandoah River opposite Harpers Ferry. It will briefly touch this state again near Pearisburg. VA.

Harpers Ferry

Maryland

The 41 miles of Trail in Maryland are characterized by a 38-mile walk along the ridge crest of South Mountain. This offers a good choice for a three- or four-day trip with good views that is never too far from towns and highways. The Trail joins the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal towpath at the Potomac River.
Pennsylvania

As far west as the Susquehanna River. the Trail in Pennsylvania follows the rim of the east range of the Alleghenies. Beyond the Susquehanna, after some 10 miles, it crosses the Cumberland Valley and follows the northernmost extension of the Blue Ridge. The Cumberland Valley crossing takes hikers through an interesting cultivated region.
New York and New Jersey

From Connecticut to the Kittatinny Ridge in New Jersey. The Trail's terrain is less wild than to the north. Palisades Interstate Park is much-frequented. Along the Kittatinny Ridge the Trail is rugged and more remote than elsewhere in these states.
Connecticut

The route through Connecticut meanders among the worn-down remnants of a much loftier mountain range and presents greatly varied scenery. Main features are the Housatonic Valley and the Taconic Range.
Massachusetts

The Trail here leads through a series of wooded areas and valleys in the Berkshire Hills. Mts. Greylock and Everett are outstanding Trail features in Massachusetts.
Vermont

West of the Connecticut River to the Green Mountains, the route is through high, rugged country of abandoned and overgrown farmlands and woodlands. From Sherburne Pass south, the Trail follows the lower 101.3 miles of the Green Mountain Club's famed Long Trail along the crest of the Green Mountains.
New Hampshire

Much frequented and well known, the White Mountain region and the White Mountain National Forest is the main feature of the Trail in New Hampshire. Trails of the Appalachian Mountain Club are followed for the most part. Much of the trail is above timberline, where temperatures may change suddenly. A trip here requires intelligent planning and you should allow ample time. The connecting link between the Green and White mountains, the Dartmouth Outing Club section of the Trail, passes through broken terrain of alternating mountains and valleys east of the Connecticut River.
Maine

Total miles: 281.4 miles Difficulty rating: 3 - 10 Elevation range: 490 feet (Kennebec River) — 5,267feet (Katahdin)

The Trail in Maine is generally considered the most difficult of the 14 states. Although the elevations seldom top 4,000 feet, the treadway is far rougher and steeper than all other areas of the Trail except for the White Mountains of New Hampshire. In the Mahoosuc Range of western Maine and on some of the other most rugged mountains, even the strongest hikers may average only 1 mile an hour. Some sections require grabbing onto tree roots and climbs to climb or descend, and are especially slippery and hazardous when wet. Due to thin soils, switchbacks and graded trails are uncommon. Maine is not recommended for novices for overnight hikes, except for a few selected areas between Flagstaff Lake and Abol Bridge. Until you are comfortable carrying a pack on steep, rocky and often slippery terrain, avoid the A.T. in Maine from the Bigelow range south to the Maine border, as well any section with peaks or substantial streams. Numerous lakes, streams, and bogs in Maine offer hikers the chance to see moose and hear loons. The abundance of water also makes for muddy treadway and many stream crossings. While a small creek may be bridged elsewhere on the A.T. (not only to keep the hiker's feet dry but to prevent bank erosion and destruction of streambed habitat), almost all streams and rivers in Maine must be forded. Spring runoff from snowmelt will wash away any primitive bridge. Some of these fords can be dangerous and difficult, and potentially life-threatening in high water. On the Kennebec River, a free ferry is the official and historical route and is provided at designated hours from late May through mid-October.

Best time to hike: July and August September is peak foliage but late September can be wintry, especially at higher elevations. In May and sometimes June snow still lingers; in June black flies torment hikers and waterlogged trails are muddy and easily damaged.
The Will Scarlett Journal

The following sections were assembled partly while the "Walk" was in progress from e-mails sent back by Paul and then from journal extracts he sent me once the walk was completed.

Click on Images for the full size version.

The Full Story up to September 2001

14 March 2001

Radio Nottingham broadcast feature covering the Walk and Headway House after 6PM news

15 March 2001

Paul is due to leave the UK for Atlanta, where he will make his way to the start of the trail.

 

04 April 2001

First Communication Arrives

At long last we are up and running with the reports. A post card arrived from the trail this morning. Paul has reported that he will not have internet access until he reaches Hot Springs in North Carolina which should be around Good Friday. From then on hopefully we may have more frequent news.

Paul left Springer Mountain in Georgia and almost immediately hit severe storms and deep snow. The going was tough and quite painful for the first four days but a steady pace has developed (about 10 miles a day). Having already met loads of walkers on the trail Paul has adopted the name "Will Scarlet" for this project. Part of the experience of the Trail is visiting the lodges and rest shelters along the way. When filling in visitor books, logs and message at these points "Will Scarlet" will identify Paul to other folks on the trails. ("Every one in the States has heard of Sherwood Forest" Paul said.

The first rest day of the trek (26.3.01) was spent in Hiawase Georgia. Paul was expecting to cross into North Carolina on 27th March

Kelly's Knob Georgia

16 April 2001

E-mail received from the trail

Hi folks, How are you all doing. Probably too much to say about the last four weeks, but overall it’s been just a completely unbelievable experience. Even compared to Nepal it has been physically demanding beyond any estimation! I am resting on my first zero mile day at Hot Springs (Tennessee) - a great little hikers’ town. I am absolutely shattered and hurt everywhere.... But I’ve done 270 miles of some tough hiking and am really very pleased with my progress and have made so many friends. It’s been a roller coaster so far, with a long way to go but gonna do this thing whatever.... I am going to do a detailed log at Damascus when I have more time.... I’m fine and dandy, looking forward to a hot tub, a massage followed by some beer to chill out. Tomorrow I hit the trail again. This is proving more than I could have dreamed but I’m settling into trail life now and rocking on.

All for now but will be in touch soon...Everyone on the trail has to have a trail name. I’m well known here as Will Scarlet to my US friends.

Will Scarlet enters the Smokies

30 April 2001

E-mail from the Trail

Hello to everyone, its me, Will Scarlet from the US of A.

Right, where am I? ....Oh yes, DAMASCUS-Virginia. I have now somehow ????, hiked 450, yes 450 flipping miles.

I hit Damascus yesterday after a 26 mile slog and believe me my feet were on fire! Great town here - ideal for thru hikers with all the usual necessities PIZZA-BEER-SHOWERS?? I will be taking a couple of days break, deserved I think, to chill and rest and then start my next leg through Virginia. Should be epic, I’m feeling very good and hiking between 14 to 20 miles per day, depending on the various climbs in the way!!!! There have been many highlights so far and it would take all day but I’ll run through a few.

Tony, you mentioned the trail angels - wow some amazing things...there we were, Cactus Bob & 2 Iron and myself. We had just climbed a couple of steep ascents in the middle of nowhere in Georgia and decide to stop at a vista. There is a guy there - we say "hello" and he asks us if we are thru hiker....yep we sure are...then he asks us if we would like some Kentucky chicken and beer!!!!!....Well I am presuming he was winding us up......eh eh....out of his heated pack he pulls a bucket of HOT chicken and cool beer....INCREDIBLE!! I still can’t believe that even now.... There have been many other memorable incidences. The people are so kind and helpful, leaving drinks and chocolate in unlikely places. The trail is a true life experience, among all the pain, the strains, the lousy weather, the biting creatures and the dirt (not to mention varying degrees of BO!!!) This is an incredible kind of cleansing experience, I feel so relaxed and I think now at one with the Trail and the way of things (hope this doesn't sound too silly) and really just soaking everything in that I can day by day, to wake up each morning and look out at the trees and the sun coming up is amazing beyond words...it can only get better...I almost don’t want it to end...mind you still a small matter of a few more miles to do yet!!!

Will be in touch soon. Keep on truckin ya all -- Will Scarlet

16 May 2001

E-mail from the Trail

Hi everyone, Just a quick update on my little walk, just completed 617 miles....phew its getting warmer and the nasty biting things are eating me alive....aaaaahhhhgggg....but going generally very well and looking forward to busting the 1000 mile mark in 3/4 weeks time????hope your all well and wish you were all here...he he see ya all later..................Will Scarlet in Pearisburg,Virginia

30 May 2001

E-mail from the Trail

Hi everyone. A quick update from Waynesborough, Virginia and 840 miles of knee crunching, ankle shaking, back breaking hiking and closing on the 1000 very soon. I hope you’re all doing well. It’s been very wet of late and I’ve experienced some amazing storms and the loudest thunder I have ever heard. The rain has been annoyingly persistent and heavy and puts our considered bad weather in the UK to wimpy sham. Over here it hits fast and hard and at times leaves you battered and stunned and very soggy. But the Americans assure me summer is on the way... Hem, we shall see. California it ain’t...well at the moment anyway. Looking forward to going thru the Shennandoahs and seeing bears and raccoons in the next section, which should be interesting. I hope I can keep my food safe from the hungry critters - mind you there is only one thing on the planet more dangerous than a hungry bear and that’s an even hungrier thru-hiker....oh yes....keep safe you lot - be in touch soon ...Will Scarlet

P.S. had my first rattlesnake encounter....awesome animal scary but really glad to have seen one close up in its natural habitat and it makes you realize how safe we have things in the UK, you have to be very alert out here.

8th June 2001

Paul has reached Harpers Ferry 1001.9 miles completed !

Will Scarlet meets the Potomac River

Will Scarlet with John and Sunny at the Confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers. Harpers Ferry VA

June 25th 2001

E-mail from the Trail

Hi folks, No worries at the moment, I'm still going and still alive. Last spoke to you from John's in Maryland.

Seems a very long time ago, I've now done another 300 miles or so through Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jersey and about to enter New York state. Phew this has been some trip, crazy lunatic locals and mad dog attacks in Maryland. Amazing rock scrambles and rock climbs and very close (too close) encounters with RATTLESNAKES!!!!! I very nearly stepped on one and nearly needed new shorts!!!! Amazing close encounters with bears in New JERSEY and very very PERSISTANT insects who seem to consider me top of the menu. Despite all this I am feeling good, A day or two behind schedule but no panic, having done over 1300 miles feel I can complete this amazing adventure!!!

CONGRATS TO LEE AND CHARLOTTE......ABOUT TIME YOUNG MAN!!!!

At the moment I'm in Vernon in New Jersey for the evening to re-stock and back on the trail tomorrow.

Hope you are all well and I,ll be in touch as soon as possible.

WILL SCARLET.......on the trail!!!!

July 8th 2001

Well after the easier meandering through the pleasant New Jersey, New York was to provide a stark contrast as the trail seemed to deliberately take its course up and down the most ridiculous rock walls and boulder sections. It almost seemed as though the trail planners had set about looking for the toughest and at times most hazardous hiking trails that they could find. The absurdity often could be clearly seen as the white blazes followed insane climbs, but where easier graded paths were available, just at the sides of these areas. After well over 1300miles of tough hiking and climbing I was not overly worried about engaging in hard physical activity, but this stuff often seemed pointless and real waste of energy, not to mention that they didn’t even offer any views or scenic interest whatsoever.

On a more serious note the hiking became dangerous as the rain had created a lethal cocktail of slippery rocks and roots. Whilst hiking with, Norway, Redneck and the strange but ‘interesting’ chap, Mary Poppins, we all suffered falls and slips throughout the whole day. I had one that seriously wrenched my right knee and I had to hobble and struggle with a swollen joint.

I got the impression that New York was going to become an unpopular hiking destination. To be fair though this was more of a situation created by the weather conditions and I had been no stranger to trips and fall’s in the past and considered it to be just another ‘occupational hazard’. The ‘assault course’ seemed to carry on as we entered the infamous ‘Lemon Squeezer,’ which was basically a huge jumble of boulders and rock slabs with a very narrow tunnel for hikers to ‘squeeze’ themselves through and up along the trail. It was so crazy it was actually funny and with a great deal of swearing and grunting, hikers and backpacks made it through successfully, just!

July 17th 2001

Into Connecticut!!!

The hiking seemed to be developing a pattern now, yesterday I had worked hard to do 19.6miles in tough terrain and today my body ached and I felt oh so tired. Getting going at first seemed almost like an act of attrition, but after the first couple of miles I found I could plod along at a steady pace.

Approaching the town of Salisbury the terrain flattened out nicely and after a short road walk I wandered in to a very picturesque looking small town. Typical New England houses stretched out along the road, with their porches and rocking chairs and hanging baskets, everything looked so proper and in place. What a dream place to live in, if you could afford it of course! I met up with, Norway, Noggin and Moonshine, and they offered their concern and asked how I was feeling. “I still wasn’t sure” I replied but “I was determined to carry on” and after re-supplying we moved on out of town. Looking at the pending map profiles I was alarmed at the size and large mass of the up and coming mountains, so much for ridgeline walking and now I had the feeling that ‘climbing’ would be the name of the game. The climb out of town was a long and gradual affair with a vertical rock climb at the end up to ‘Lions-Head’. Norway steamed in front at an incredible pace and I had to run to keep up. Summer-dog, bless her, kept running back to ask ‘why I was hiking so slow, compared to her owner, and could I try and keep up please!’

Well I had done another 18miles today, which I thought was a pretty good effort after yesterdays 20, and eager to rest at the Riga Lean-to, pushed on as fast as I could. The shelter was inhabited by another ridge-runner and his rather mean looking dog, but after we had all rolled in and settled down to cook we had an excellent ‘ community’ evening. What’s more the view out of the shelter was a ‘picture postcard’ looking down into the valley below and the mountains behind. It reminded me a little of West Mt back in N.York and as the sun descended the scene became magical with cotton wool clouds blanketing the ground and the dark peaks protruded majestically into the sky. The setting sun created the most awesome colours from oranges and reds to the deep purple of the night-time sky and as the stars came out and we settled into our bags, it was quite a special evening! I knew that there was no way that I could leave the trail at that time!

The View from the Riga lean-too

The whole group awoke at about 4am to a splendid sight! The clouds had become even softer in the valley and the dark blues and purples of the sky seemed stronger and just off to the right appeared the crescent of the moon. With the orange band of sunlight just appearing behind the mountains there seemed to be a battle going on between night and day. Who ever had built the shelter had created an inspirational vista as one could lie down and absorb the whole scene without even moving. One wanted to sleep but it was hard not to keep waking up and taking a peek at the incoming morning, AWESOME!

July 18th 2001

Into Massachusetts!!!!

I didn’t leave the shelter till about 10am, it was just too good and I also finally made the decision to begin the course of antibiotics. The ridge-runner had advised that at least if I started the medicine I could see if there was any improvement in the way that I felt, it seemed the sensible option as I had certainly been up and down over the last few days. After the initial climb up Bear Mt and the descent into the picturesque Sages Ravine, I was able to cross another State line and enter Massachusetts and along with the weather, the scenery just kept on improving.

Beaver Damage

Checking out a lunch spot at Bear Rock Falls I found the crew already there and enjoying the rock overhang and the wonderful vista looking deep into the Massachusetts countryside. Sitting down and relaxing we spent a good couple of hours here just enjoying our surroundings. We did discus the fact that the end seemed almost in sight and I think we all felt a kind of need to slow down, stop and enjoy places such as this, while we still could. The relaxing day continued and even the ‘leg shaking’ steep assent up Mt Everett didn’t spoil the fun.

July 23rd 2001

I had a nice long day planned out today and along with, Longway, Norway and Summer-dog we cruised along the trail at what seemed like a frantic speed. The terrain became surprisingly flat as we looped around ponds and marshland and rooty trail that had an almost pre-historic look about it. I could almost imagine huge reptiles wandering through this type of landscape millions of years ago. However it wasn’t dinosaurs that we came across but a huge mother bear and her two cubs, one of the cubs disappeared up a nearby tree whilst mother escorted the other off into the distance. It was still an amazing sight to see and always left me buzzing with appreciation for this wilderness that I was hiking in.

July 24th 2001

Town stops seemed to crop up everywhere along the trail in this section but the towns in New England were always small, quaint and extremely friendly. Dalton my next stop was no exception but after a basic food and medicine re-supply I decided to push on, sometimes staying in town didn’t always appeal and the trail would take precedent. Having just left the pharmacy I was re-packing when a strange looking hiker wandered towards me along the road. Saying “hello” I was taken aback when I recognized it was a young chap I had last seen back in Erwin, Tennessee, Outhra. Shaking hands with my old pal he informed me that he had been only a day or two behind, for most of the way, but had been hit by the dreaded Giardia in Pennsylvania and had been back home for 4 weeks to recover.

Reaching Crystal Mt campsite I decided to have an early day and, Outhra, joined me and we conversed for most of the afternoon and early evening about the trail and past friends, off and hopefully still on, the AT. It meant that I would be behind the gang again but I was sure I could catch up.

July 25th 2002

After about a week or so on the antibiotics I think my overall condition was beginning to improve. The trail and its climbs in Massachusetts were getting tougher and it was getting hotter, but I seemed to be making good progress and not suffering with the debilitating fatigue that I had had in New York and Connecticut.

This couldn’t have been better timed, as I now had to face a 2500foot climb up Mt Greylock and the highest point in Massachusetts. I was stunned at the change in the way I suddenly felt and I seemed to be getting rushes of energy as I hiked. All but running up to the summit of Greylock I felt like a superhuman and after a brief stop at the observatory flew down to the Wilbur Clearing Lean-to. I was also in a positive mood with the great news in the shelter register that, Norway’s mother had had very good test results and any immediate danger had passed. Things were looking better all round. Longway rolled in just after myself and we had some fun impressing some weekend hikers with our stories and adventures from along the trail.

July 28th 2001

Into Vermont!!!!!!!

With the extra peace of mind of the antibiotics and a brand new tent I crossed into the green woods of Vermont and joined a trail known as ‘The Long Trail’ which was actually older than the AT and ran for about 260miles up to the Canadian border. The people of Vermont, it was said, thought a great deal more of their own trail than the huge AT, I got the feeling that they considered the AT an inferior trail and were not happy that part of the Long Trail was used for the AT. They were entitled to their opinion but I wasn’t sure that I agreed, particularly after walking all this way from Georgia!

The trail was certainly busier now and one would bump into individuals and groups every hour or so, it even got confusing when trying to find out who was doing what, north or southbound on the AT or north or southbound on the VT, or just out for the day. Confusion or not though the trail was good and with my new found enthusiasm I rattled the miles off. After about 17miles or so I had my first difficult patch in Vermont with a sharp 600 foot descent down huge rock steps and the knees took quite a bit of punishment on the way down. However quite a surprise was waiting for me at the road and as I looked to my right, Deuce and Moonshine, shouted across to me. Wow, ‘trail-magic’, in the form of a picnic blanket and a feast of food that was spread out in the lay-by, what a treat!

Mount Bromley

There was more however as the people responsible were themselves former thru-hikers and also masseurs! Would you believe that we all received a personal massage, by the side of the road, and then load’s more food and drink to follow, I still don’t believe even now! It is difficult to put into context events like this, but they really were an integral piece of trail life and form a very important part in the tremendous journey that all thru-hikers embark on when they leave Springer Mt way down in Georgia.

July 29th 2001,

Another blistering hiking day, I don’t know what I was on, but I was moving along the trail like a demon on speed! The scenery in Vermont was also proving special and although a little like parts of Virginia, with dense areas of woodland and forest, there would always be a view to keep things interesting, particularly with the increase in altitudes above 3000feet. This was very evident as I climbed the impressive Glastonbury Mt and at the shelter was able to look back on the dark shape of Mt Greylock on the horizon, a peak that I had climbed over just a few days previous.

At the shelter was an interesting character by the name of ‘Willie’, often known as ‘Hobo Willie’ and one of the trails real life drifters who actually lived on the AT. Willie was a huge individual with an even bigger beard and a backpack twice the size of most other hikers. He wasn’t really a thru-hiker as such but he had hiked a large portion of the trail and sustained his chosen lifestyle by picking up work along the way and spending his days just walking free.

The campsite for the evening was at a pleasant spot called Story Spring and at 3000feet it introduced me to an old friend, the cold! After so much heat and humidity of late the nights were just starting to cool, nothing extreme as such and after a hot days hiking they were very much appreciated, they also helped to reduce the bug nuisance.
July 30th 2001,

After yesterdays 17.4mile stretch I felt no tiredness at all and cruised along and over Stratton Mt and its 1800foot ascent and down to Stratton Pond. I was expecting to push on but on reaching the said pond I just had to stop. Probably even more ‘picture postcard’ than Upper Goose back in Mass, this was a stunning sight. The crystallized water looked an almost Mediterranean blue and with soft sand running into it from the grassy banks I had no problem in relinquishing my shoes and socks and refreshing my hot and tired feet in the clear cool water. It turned into a wonderful three-hour lunch break as I enjoyed the warm air and the pond, encased in a shroud of deep green trees, and glinting in the sunshine.

Almost wishing to stay all day I forced myself to hike on and finished a great 18.3mile day at Spruce Peak Shelter. I decided to tent as normal, due to the bugs, but the shelter would have been a nice option. It was a real woodsman cabin with lead lined windows, with real glass, a door and even a black iron cast oven. Combined with an array of bunks and a porch overhang it showed that someone had taken a lot of pride and effort in constructing this building. As a large crowd collected during the evening, a good night was had by all, chatting and joking around the campfire.

August 10th 2001

New Hampshire

Well, I was here, New Hampshire. After all the talk, scare-mongering and chants by ‘Southbounders’ that we were “all gonna die in the Whites,” I charged on with a gusto. The trail at first didn’t appear too drastic and the initial climbs were none too difficult, until I reached Moose Mt, and then it hit home, as I looked down and across at the terrain in front of me. Wow, incredible stuff and the climbs previously done in Vermont looked like hills by comparison, the map profiles had really come to life in front of my very eyes. Dropping down a sharp 1500 feet I was then faced with Holts Ledge, which had quite a reputation as a toughie. It was and I had to keep reminding myself that I had done stuff like this before, down in Georgia, and even bigger stuff in the Himalayas and that these long extended climbs were well within my powers. That said I had to huff and puff my way to the top.

The weight factor and the heat combined with the climbing had a strong effect and tiredness and dehydration became a problem. The water sources here were not the best either and after reaching the Trapper John shelter, which had nothing but a dry stream a water search was set up. Fortunately ‘Caboose’ had noticed some water pools on the way down, you could always rely on a woman, and a ‘posse’ was organized and returned to the shelter with the precious ‘Aqua’. That evening became interesting as well when a ‘South-bounder’ rolled in and joined the four or five of us at the shelter. The old chap seemed to feel aggrieved at the amount of ‘North-bounders’ that he kept on meeting and how we seemed to over-run all the shelters and campsites. Oh boy was he in for a shock! Throughout the evening probably the biggest hoard of hikers that I had ever seen descended on the shelter, the tenting area resembled an army camp, I didn’t think that the old chap knew what had hit him as in the region of 35to 40 ‘North-bounders,’ literally took over!

Needless to say he didn’t hang around, in the morning he must have departed around 5am to escape, ‘bless him’.

August 14th 2001 developed into a quite remarkable day, it started well and as I had gotten myself into a super-charged mood I set about the first challenge of climbing Moosilauke. This was definitely one of the biggest climbs of the whole trail and although not the most technically difficult, I had to dig deep, to make the steady climb all in one go. I was extremely determined not to stop halfway up, but to make the summit in one single effort. One of the hardships with this ascent was not just the fact that it was steep, but that it continued to rise for nearly six miles.

On reaching the summit, albeit with shaking legs and a raised heartbeat, I was literally blown away by the sheer magnitude of the scene that was set before me. Arriving at just before 9am I was treated to the early morning light that had painted the surrounding mountains with the most wondrous colours and shades and I doubted that there would ever be an artist born, who could recreate such beauty. Finding a rock seat to sit on and escape from the brisk wind, I sat for maybe an hour trying my best to soak in what I could, a breathtaking natural wonder! Not since the ‘Smokies’ and Roan Mt in N. Carolina had I really felt so impassioned about what I was viewing, parts of Vermont had certainly come close especially the sunset on Mt Bromley, but this was perhaps the ‘pinnacle’ view of my whole trip!

It took a great deal of effort to leave this scene, but I had to move on. I almost felt as if my soul had been literally ‘imprinted’ with this image, as I watched the textured layers of the landscape sweep towards the horizon and the dark, forbidding, jagged peaks pierced the golden sky. My only concern now was that it would have to be something out of this world to beat this quite memorable morning.

Still possibly in a daze I set about the climb down and off this great mountain. If the climb up had felt like hard work, I was to be in for a surprise! The descent was incredible and seemed to be based upon many sections of huge rock steps and boulders, that one had to either jump from or slide down on ones backside! At times the trail would take you down smooth sheer sided rocks and the trail planners had had to bolt on wooden steps to the rock, to enable any kind of descent. It took a new level of concentration and leg strength to make my way down this path. At times it was so steep that I would be balancing on the edge of one rock and looking down maybe 30/40 feet, into an abyss, trying to work out where my next steps was. It became scary at times and not a place that you would want to fall, it would be lethal. I passed quite a few day hikers puffing and sweating their way up, but I was not in a sympathetic mood at the time as my knees were experiencing a nightmare themselves! After what felt like an age, I reached the bottom and turning to look at a sign, I read a warning to hikers to be aware that the trail was extremely tough and could lead to tragic results! Now they told me, however I had survived and after a brief water stop I charged on up my second climb of the day at Wolf Mountain.

As rugged as this terrain was, I was enjoying myself and the trekking moved on to another level. Yes it was more demanding but it was no longer a case of just walking. Rocks and roots and all sorts of obstacles filled the trail as it bobbed and weaved its way around Wolf Mt and you would have to constantly adjust your body position and hiking momentum, to make any progress. Some of the rocks were similar to those back in Pennsylvania and encouraged ‘rock hopping’ a difficult skill, especially when one wasn’t really a mountain goat. I did ‘come a cropper’ at one section and slipped and smashed my shin into a rock, ‘ouch’ and with blood flowing and a nasty looking swelling I cursed my carelessness and tried to walk the injury off.

Limping but still buzzing over the whole day, I rolled into Eliza Brook Shelter and found Norway, Longway, Yollo and Blowing Sunshine in the process of cooking. After crashing down and relieving the pack weight after an amazing 16miles, I had thought that I had done enough for the day. However the crew seemed to have had other ideas and applying a certain degree of ‘polite pressure’ convinced me to engage in a further 3.5miles and 2000feet up to the peak of North Kinsman Mt!

I was both sore and bruised from today’s encounter but psychologically more than pumped up and decided that I could manage a few more miles. However we weren’t attempting to find a campsite but instead they were going to introduce me to the art of ‘cowboy camping’ under the stars. Having felt it had been an interesting day I had a feeling that it wasn’t quite over? The climb up Kinsman South was without doubt the hardest climb of the whole trail, so far. It basically had nothing to do with hiking in the regular sense but became a ‘hands on’ rock climb using the ‘ever present’ roots and rock ledges as hand and foot holds. It was tiring but it was also fun and we had a scream working our way up to the top of Kinsman South. The roots and boulders created a weaving obstacle course that showed no end and would have tested the fittest of climbers. Perhaps this was the fine line between mountaineering and hiking. That said the late evening views, at the summit, just carried off from the morning and just melted into excellence!

The huge imposing landscape just seemed to stretch endlessly and as the warming orange light developed with the sinking sun, a wonderful magical coating overlapped the mountains. It was just too good! One mile later and we arrived at Kinsman North Mountain and found a large slab of rock overlooking the surrounding valleys.

I think the gang found it incredible that I had never slept under the stars before and it certainly felt strange not having my tent for cover. That said the sky was clear and the forecast was good and as we laid down the mattresses and sleeping bags, the sun began to set, and the night took over. This had been a radical and totally fresh experience for me, one that I would never forget. As I lay and looked up at the expanse of sky above me I was both enlightened and humbled and as the stars appeared one by one I was well aware that this had truly been a special day! To top off the whole episode I hardly slept and witnessed several shooting stars fly across the huge expanse of the milky- way and I am sure that I have never before felt so happy!

Anyone seen the tent?

August 19th,

I think that I was shocked at how the creeping knee pain had now become so debilitating after just 9 days in New Hampshire. Perhaps the strenuous climbs and descents had finally caught up with me and the niggling knee pain that I had ignored so far was now becoming unbearable and a touch worrying. I was also disappointed that I was suffering with such a physical breakdown after so long on the trail and that I had probably underestimated the harshness of the hiking in New Hampshire and the strains that it had put on my body. However what was done was done and I had to get on with it as best as I could, perhaps I could now find out if my mental strength had anything to offer with my current predicament? Perhaps it had and I set off for Washington in a determined frame of mind and striding with a purpose, flew up to the Lake of the Clouds Hut. This was undoubtedly one of the most spectacular settings for a hut with the barren rocky landscape and two glacial ponds standing out like huge mirrors, very different and obvious to see why it was such a draw with the tourists. Not only that but the menacing shape of Mt Washington loomed overhead. The actual climb was relatively easy by comparison and as I approached the final peak I was struck by a real impression of the bleakness and almost unnatural feel to this environment. Mt Washington seemed less like a mountain and more like a large collection of boulders piled up, at its crown sat a bizarre assortment of silhouetted antennae’s and aerial’s that gave a grim feel of some kind of moon base on another world.

Please Do Not Feed the "Thru Hikers" they may want you to take a photo or two

Before the final climb I came across a ‘well worn’ yellow sign that warned of the perils of climbing in bad weather and that people had actually perished from exposure on this peak! Not a promising thought but I was fairly confident in my ability to deal with harsh weather and proceeded into ‘no-mans land’. During the climb it became apparent that I was entering a high profile tourist area and this was no more evident than at the summit. ‘A crazy freak show’ was the first words that sprang to mind, as I witnessed the mass of people milling around with cameras, doing the usual tourist things. The cog railroad, apparently the oldest in the world, was an outrageous eye sore and as it plumed out clouds of thick black smoke and polluted the air further with its screeching whistle I began to feel a little cheated that such perversity was allowed to desecrate the Appalachian Trail. It was almost sad to think that in the early days of the trail the planners had intended for the trail to actually end here. Thank heavens that they came to their senses, as I think thru-hikers would have committed suicide having hiked so far just to reach this absurd destination. That said there was still some personal pride and celebration at having summated the 6288foot peak. As the crew came together we did some serious photo shoots to commemorate and record the feat and probably terrified a few tourists with our fist waving and war chants, all good fun of course.

The Outlaws take Mount Washington

On the way down the ‘Shiners’ gave the people on the train a good indication of what they thought of the monstrosity with a full ‘mooning’, a particular custom for thru-hikers and was applauded with resounding volume. As expected the descent became a knee jarring and painfully grimacing exercise and I was experiencing a ‘brutal’ level of tortuous pain. Even compared to the early days this seemed extreme beyond the call of duty and I was certainly taken aback by the ruggedness and desolation of this section of the trail. Every rock, stone and root seemed to jar the whole body and it became a ‘force of will’ to keep going at times. As I looked around at the nature of the landscape I kept receiving flash backs from the harsher trails in Nepal and at times I almost wished that I was back there, it was that tough!

Limping down to Madison Spring Hut I decided not to attempt the climb over Mt Madison but instead had planned to fly down to a tent-site half a mile or so off the trail. The ‘Shiners’ and the rest of the gang were going to try for Osgood Campsite over Madison, but it involved a 500foot climb and then a 3000foot descent over a sharp 2 miles. Saying our good-byes for now and realizing that time was getting late I flew down the hill and much to my disgust found the site full. Feeling the ‘Red Mist’ begin to build I stormed back up the hill only to find that the Hut was also full and that I couldn’t camp anywhere nearby. The ‘Red Mist’ emerged fully now and I raced off up the side of Madison like some demented lunatic. The funny thing was though that as I charged up to the summit without even catching a breath and scrambled over boulder after boulder, I was taken over by a second wind of some kind, and actually calmed down enough to enjoy the hiking. At times it became downright dangerous as I weaved my way up, over and around huge boulders and rocks that were supposed to be a trail. The white blazes became sparse and basically a waste of time and I ended up creating my own path along and down the ridgeline. I met quite a few day hikers coming the other way and they had looks of sheer desperation about them as they moved perilously slow in this terrain. The other rising concern was that it was now approaching 8pm and the sun was sinking fast, I did not want to get trapped up here in the dark and to attempt a night-hike would be tantamount to suicide. Somehow I found another burst of speed and the long suffering knees just seemed to keep going and just as it turned dark I managed to get off the ridge and began to descend on a more reasonable mud and roots type trail. Hiking at night could throw up extra complications and as I made my way down I had to be very careful not to leave the ever-winding trail and get lost in the forest. Everything looked similar in the dark and my Tikka light struggled to differentiate between the main trail and other possible side trails. Many times I had to backtrack after wrong turnings and dead ends, but by about 9pm I eventually reached the sign for Osgood Campsite. Wow I had made it and I realised that I had been hiking for nearly 14 hours! However that wasn’t the end for this particular day as on reaching the site, I found this to be crammed packed full and not one single space left whatsoever. AAAGGHHH! The ‘Red Mist’ was returning and after some ‘Anglo-Saxon’ expletives I stormed off once again into the night. After around an hour I was starting to get very tired and on finding a reasonable place to camp, with a stream close by, I pitched the tent and cooked a late meal. It had been one crazy day but I thought that perhaps in the following morning light I would be able to laugh about such events and should gain some inspiration from my ‘aggressive’ but determined approach, in probably the hardest section of the whole trail

August 23/24th,

Very probably the two most needed zero days of the whole trip and as I inspected my swollen knees they seemed to creak and role around under the skin, my right ankle also seemed an odd shape as well. I was not the only one suffering after coming out of the ‘Whites’ though and every one seemed to have some discomfort or other. The Barn even had its own handy man in the interesting shape of, Scavenger. Quite a character and his story was fascinating as he informed us that he had been here since 1995 after attempting a thru-hike and had gotten no further due to injury, instead taking on the job here and the rest as he said “was history”. The two girls had left early and were planning to slack-pack the 21mile section from Pinkham Notch and back to here. ‘Ouch’ I thought as I remembered the Wildcats and the Carter descents with disdain and I had to take my hat off to them for the attempt. In their favour though was a nice sunny day and they weren’t carrying a normal backpacking load, so they could at least move fast. Even still it would be some effort to make it all in one go! As it began to get dark they both rolled in to a sharp round of applause and they were certainly tired but not overly beaten-up by the severity of the hike. Just after the girls arrival, Moonshine, steamed in and congratulating him on surviving ‘The Whites’ we headed for a pizza and a beer. After another superb sleep in a ‘real’ bed I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be able to leave this town and what’s more would I get back on the trail and attempt to finish the hike. The crew was soon added to that morning, when yet another old hiking pal stumbled into town, good old, Shambala, and the Barn began to feel more and more like ‘home’. This was the first town stop that I hadn’t felt as if there was any rush to leave and I think we all deserved the rest.

August 25th,

Oh it was so, so very hard to leave the most wonderful stop over on the whole trail. But Maine beckoned with the promise of the best sections of hiking to come and I suppose the ever rising thought that I had nearly completed the AT and would achieve a dream come true. I now had to ask myself ‘could I actually do it, couldI become a ‘bonafide thru-hiker’, one more State to go, one more test, with its own unique set of challenges, to face and it was up to me and only me to do it!

August 26th, MAINE……..THE LAST STATE!!!!!!

Maine welcomes Will

Maine at last! My ‘final’ State Line was passed today and having my photograph taken by the large sign which read ‘MAINE- THE WAY LIFE SHOULD BE’ I wondered what this State and the upcoming Mahoosuc Mountains would unveil. Almost immediately I was made exactly aware of what to expect. Phew, an unbelievably crazy rock scramble introduced the State in no uncertain terms and as the knee pain returned, like a stabbing dagger, doubts began to manifest themselves with an annoying frequency.

Crawling to Full Goose Shelter and almost in tears with the pain I threw my sticks to the ground and flopped into the shelter like a stranded whale, exhausted and feeling totally persecuted by such rugged and brutal trail. New Hampshire had left me stunned and battered but this first day in Maine had added its ample weight, and had left me literally writhing in agony! To make matters worse the following section was to include the novel, ‘Mahoosuc Notch’ the most talked about feature on the whole AT.

August 27th,

An early burst of rain changed the plan for today and I had no hesitation in abandoning hiking and staying at the shelter. The girls and, Moonshine, didn’t take too long to follow my lead and new plans for re-supplies and the re-adjustment of planned mileage’s were made before the lazy, but fun rest day, was taken. On a more sensible note we were unanimous in the fact that the ‘Notch’ would have been dangerous in such rain and a drier day tomorrow would be all the better.

August 28th,

The Mahoosuc Notch, one mile of the most ridiculous, mind blowing and physically taxing peace of trekking trail that could be devised by the most sadistic and evil trail planner, ever!! As I climbed, twisted and wrenched my beaten and bruised body up, over and under jumbled boulders and fallen trees, I looked on in sheer amazement at the white blazes and where they expected you to go. At times I had to remove my pack and crawl under rock tunnels or grip the sides of slick rocks and leap across small gully’s onto even slicker rocks, danger money should have been provided here and a lot of it! If I could have put on a Spiderman outfit I think I would have still struggled. After 2 hours of sweat, dirt and abrasions I reached the end and finding, Moonshine and Deuce, taking a breather, I sat down on a rock and just shook my head in disbelief. “What the hell was all that about” I asked and I was reliably informed that it was supposed to be ‘fun’ and after that I could offer no further comment.

The Notch though was only the warm up as the climb out began with the ‘Notch 2’ and towards the top the infamous, ‘Mahoosuc Arm’, appeared like a huge stone Goliath and somewhat more regular but equally dangerous rock climbing ensued. After the constant extreme, the trail seemed to drift into a meandering and gentle pathway down to Grafton Notch and there were times when we queried whether we were on the right trail or not, it seemed too easy, but what the hell, “we had done the Notch”!

September 5th,

Maine had promised so much. In fact everybody had suggested that the ‘Fourteenth State’ would be the best and way beyond the rest in natural beauty and its rugged environment. I did think though, as well that the, Appalachian Trail, was such a personal thing and everybody would have had ‘their’ own favorite experiences and events. I had, had mine and so far Roan Mt in N. Carolina and Mt Moosilauke and Kinsman Mt in New Hampshire had been the stars and September the fifth and Bigelow Mt was to be another one added to that list. The ‘star day’ began bleak with a thick bank of fog crawling all around the shelter in the early morning, I could not even see anything outside of the shelter space in fact the fog was inside the shelter, as if it was trying to haunt the building. I was not in any particular rush especially after yesterday’s marathon and so I had a pleasant sleep in till about 7am. Breakfast was a fairly leisurely affair and I also took time to peruse my maps and plot a course for the next town of Caratunk. As if by magic the sun began to make its presence felt and proceeded to disperse the thick fog and reveal a beautiful blue sky and a superb day in the making. Taking advantage of the suns warmth I hung various items out to dry and chatted to a couple of ‘flip-flopping South-bounders’, Yogi and an old guy, Christmas, who had been in the shelter last night.

About 10am I was ready to leave and, Yogi, suggested that with this break in the weather I should expect some stunning views from the approaching twin-peaks. I couldn’t wait to get to the top and upon reaching the first summit at South Horn I was treated to an awesome vista looking down at the shelter and back up to Crocker Mt. As I moved around I follow the mountain ranges for miles into the distance, a lot of it I had covered already. Things just kept on getting better and though the climbs were severe as I approached West Peak and Avery Peak, I had a feeling that I was in for a very special treat. The first summit of West Peak was very impressive but as I looked along the trail towards Avery Peak I could see a kind of ‘look out post’ and so I headed towards this. The wind along the ridgeline was aggressive and keeping ones footing on the rocks was troublesome but after some intensive bouldering I reached the Avery summit. Wow! This was something else, and as the hostile wind buffeted me, I found a sheltered spot behind a small stone building and sat for 2 splendid hours looking all around, at this majestic Maine landscape

Behind me was the massive Flagstaff Lake that looked like a small sea with its blue glass like water shinning in the sun. Below to my left I could see Little Bigelow and my future route towards the Kennebec River and in front the impressive Sugerloaf Mt, a popular skiing area. The sun was intense and the power of the colour that generated from the blue sky and the green of the land became an almost spiritual experience. It had a vibrancy that made me question whether it was actually real and I wondered if I had perhaps dozed off and was in the midst of a dream? No, it was very, very real and I felt a great wave of satisfaction having witnessed these scenes, I was also grateful that the weather conditions were helping me finish my trek in style.

Just like on Moosilauke I had immense difficulty pulling myself away from this but I knew that I had to push on. The trail wound its way down off Avery and gradually crept its way up Little Bigelow and after some dense areas of trees I came across a sign that indicated that a vista was close by. The scene that I walked into looked back up to Avery and the whole mass of the Bigelow Mountain Range, I was lost for words as I sat on a rock and nearly cried with sheer pleasure at the scene before me. I was truly walking in an enchanted land and I had a feeling that my camera would not do justice to scenes like this.

The Little Bigelow Shelter proved to be a small but effective shelter and at first I thought that I would be alone that night. However after about an hour an ex-patriot rolled in, in the shape of, Bam Bam, who had lived on Long Island for 14 years, but was originally from Co Durham in the North East of England. His accent was quite bizarre, with his combination of New Yorker mixed with Geordie. Moonshine was close behind and was surprised to see me at the shelter and he queried my sanity with my big mileage days over Saddleback and Crocker Mountains. The news on, Wood Nymph was not so promising though with suspected Giardia and we were also concerned about, Shambala, and his dodgy leg. We all hoped they were all still carrying on through Maine. It was a shame that the group that had collected together back in Mahoosucs had gotten split up but I knew that this section of Maine was an individual examination and each and every hiker, had to ‘hike his or her own hike’!

September 9th,

Wow! Monson was beckoning and the ‘100 Mile Wilderness was approaching fast. It was hard to really contemplate what this meant at that time, after so long on the trail the end was so close, but yet still so far, the remaining 112 miles were to be no ‘cake-walk’! After a short 9mile hike I waited patiently by the roadside and more comfortable with hitching alone I stuck out the thumb and tried my best to look ‘pathetic’ and in need of a lift, I didn’t think that I needed to try too hard, all things considered. It worked, despite the road being a fast one a large 4wheel drive pulled to a halt and a guy got out and asked me if I was a thru-hiker. “Oh yes” I cried and he indicated that he never normally picked up hitchhikers but he had made an exception today. As we chatted on the way down to Monson he informed me that he had himself, thru-hiked the trail 25 years ago and that he didn’t think that he could do it now but was very glad to help.

I headed for Shaw’s, a hostel that had had quite a reputation along the trail as the place to stay and apparently had ‘legendary’ breakfasts. As I approached the large white house, I was greeted by Mr. Shaw senior and Mr. Shaw junior and was heartily welcomed into the house-hold. His wife and other family members were inside and it felt as if I had trespassed into someone’s home by accident. After booking my evening meal and breakfast I showered and did the necessary laundry to get myself feeling almost human once again. Moonshine, and Bam Bam, were still here but I was disappointed that I had just missed, Norway and Longway, and a big crowd that had just left that morning, however I hoped that perhaps I could catch them up through the wilderness.

Large plates of meat loaf and real vegetables were thrust into our hands at the dinner table and Mr. Shaw insisted on seconds and thirds being consumed before we could even consider dessert and coffee! Well and truly stuffed we retired to the living room to soak up the food with Budweiser and the TV. It was hot and stuffy that night but sleep was not really a problem and tomorrow I would enter the great ‘100 Mile Wilderness’!
September 10th,

Breakfast is considered to be the most important meal of the day. Mr. Shaw’s breakfast was to be the only needed meal of the day, after my 3 eggs, sausage, bacon and home fries and toast I was ready to face the ‘Wilderness’. With our packs fully loaded with 7 days of food, we said our thanks and farewells to the household and Mr. Shaw drove us back up to the trailhead and the unknown. Mr. Shaw had been great and wishing us luck sped off back down the road to Monson. Now here we were looking at the battered brown sign that indicated that for the next 90 miles there was to be no supplies, no help, no anything should matters turn for the worst. We were on our own and at the mercy of whatever Maine had left to throw at us. It was quite an emotional time as I read the information and set off on the trail. It was very similar to the time back at Amicalola Falls and the very beginnings of the Appalachian Trail, way back in March, and I just tried to stay focused and aware of my surroundings and to be careful not to have any stupid accidents. I was too close to fail! The early parts of the ‘Wilderness’ proved to be very pretty with small ponds scattered all around and the surrounding trees were shrouded in layers of mist. As the trail weaved its way through sections of rocks and pine trees, occasionally it would appeared into a clearing and reveal the surrounding lands, that gave glimpses of the up and coming Chairback Mountain Range.

The heat and humidity combined with the bulk of the pack caused progress to slow down as the climbs gradually increased and I was praying that the whole of the ‘Wilderness’ wouldn’t be like this. There was only so much ‘struggle’ and ‘sweat’ that one could take and I had expected the cold to become more prominent at this time of year. However after 15miles of reasonably enjoyable hiking I reached the small shelter at Long Pond Stream and along with, Moonshine and Bam Bam, settled down for our first night in the wilderness.

That night the humidity was well and truly broken by a ferocious thunderstorm and as the rain battered down upon the tin roof we all hoped that it would signal some better conditions for our final leg of the trek.

September 12th,

Today promised to be a very special day, even compared to Moosilauke. After I had made the steady climb five and a half miles up to the next shelter the trail then hustled over three sharp peaks before I approached the one-mile climb up to White Cap Mt. I met, Moonshine, at the base of White Cap and we discussed the small matter of receiving our first view of Katahdin. This was a mind blowing concept, to think that we would be able to see the finishing post with still 70miles to go was quite something! I set off first and felt highly emotional, as I progressed to the summit. The trail seemed to tease me as I fought desperately to peak between trees and over rocks for this initial vision of the ‘Greatest Mountain’. Many times I thought I had reached the top only to find a further section of trail ahead of me and more climbing to do, it was ‘crazy’ as I became almost psychotic to reach this point and I pushed the leg muscles to their limit. Then I was there, on the summit and in a clearing, and the eyes and brain were working feverishly to search out this image, an image that I had hiked over 2000miles for. There were many mountains on the horizon as I perused the scenery but I couldn’t seem to discern which one might have been Katahdin? It didn’t seem to be there and a wave of panic seemed to strike, what exactly was I supposed to see, where was I supposed to look? ‘It wasn’t here’ was all I could think at the time, but it was a beautiful clear day, ‘why couldn’t I see it’. After sitting down on a rock and removing the pack and feeling cheated beyond words some level of common sense returned and I removed my compass from my pack and pointed it out in front of me.

What hit me was like a thunderbolt, the needle was pointing south! That was insane but it was true, I had been searching for Katahdin looking back the way I had come. As I searched around I could see that the trail wandered around the mountains top and I decided to check it out. After about 5 minutes I came around into another clearing, and far better than any magicians trick, there in all its glory, was the indisputable monolith of Katahdin. Like a great stone pyramid it reached into the sky and even though it was still some 70 miles away I knew that that was my destination. Not spending too long I returned to my pack and had some lunch whilst looking southwards and I attempted to asses the whole journey from Springer and to try and understand everything that had happened from so far south of where I was sat. It was almost too much, I really could not take in or accept that I had walked so far and so I turned my thoughts to Katahdin, which was now a reality.

As I was sitting with my mind elsewhere and everywhere, Moonshine, turned up and perhaps with the same trepidation that I had experienced, asked where it was. I smiled and said that it wasn’t here and his face dropped just for a second before he realised that I was joking and I pointed him towards the trail to find his own personal destiny with Katahdin!

The climb down off White Cap was almost done in a trance and as I passed, Moonshine, who was sat on a rock, writing his journal as he looked over at Katahdin, I almost forgot to take a photograph. I chided myself but it was so hard not to feel the buzz of excitement and as I wobbled down the trail, finally things were settling into place. That night at the shelter though, the atmosphere was hit by a bombshell of a magnitude that stunned, Moonshine, Bam Bam and myself into silence. A young guy out for a week of hiking had heard some news that terrorists had hi-jacked some planes and had crashed them into New York and possibly Washington, although he wasn’t sure on all the details. The concept beggared belief and after really having no world news for nearly 6 months it was an almost ridiculous concept to have heard this and at first I think we all thought that he was joking. Unfortunately after meeting two other hikers the following day it was confirmed and the accurate details were even more horrifying with what had actually taken place.

September 13th,

Still somewhat stunned with the news and the realization that the incidents had taken place on the 11th, my original flying out date, I set about trying to come to terms with everything that had gone off and trying to finish my own epic journey. It was understandably difficult to concentrate on something as menial feeling as a hike and I certainly felt almost ‘selfish’ as I still felt a great desire to reach Katahdin. There was though nothing that I could really do about the situation. I was in the middle of nowhere and I had to finish this, whatever the outside world was doing. Perhaps as I hiked I began to gain an even greater appreciation of the beauty of my surroundings and the simplicity and almost idealistic way of life that I had experienced over the last 6 months or so.

At the shelter the conversation was obviously dominated by the recent news and, Pooh, who I’d met for the first time was extremely concerned as he was over here from Israel and it seemed likely that the terrorists would be Middle-Eastern of origin. Grim stuff but I felt the need to stay focused on the task ahead and I tried to channel my own anger to finishing what I had set out to do.

September 14th,

Well, today I pulled out my last and final map and as I perused the profile it was clear to see how daunting the climb up Katahdin would be. This was confirmed very dramatically when I joined, Moonshine, on the shores of the wonderfully Indian, Pemadumcook Lake, and glancing to my left I looked up at a huge grey mass that seemed to almost swallow all the sky around it. At first I didn’t believe that it could be Katahdin, as had, Moonshine, I was expecting a triangular pyramid type peak, as it had looked from White Cap. But it was the only sensible option, it had to be and it certainly looked like ‘The Greatest Mountain’ spread out over some five miles, towering 5250feet into the air and somewhere a trail of white blazes made its way up to the summit.

September 16th,

The weather had certainly turned in our favor since entering the ‘wilderness’ and the skies had a clearness and clarity that promised a good day for tomorrow and our attempts at the summit. After a good night’s sleep last night we set off for the small store at Abol Bridge and after 3 miles or so we met the local Ranger, who congratulated us on making it through the ‘wilderness’ and the whole trip from Georgia. Just before hitting the road we came across some last minute ‘trail-magic’ from another thru-hiker, ‘Don Quixote’, who had left a much appreciated cool box of sodas and Little Debbies snacks, what a treat. Abol Bridge was a private campsite come supply store which boasted another superb view of Katahdin and had some basic supplies to get us up and off the mountain.

After a quick snack and a coffee the time had come to enter Baxter State Park and the home of ‘The Greatest Mountain’. I am quite sure that I couldn’t have slowed down even if I had wanted to, I was here and knew exactly what I had to do, it was very simple. I had to climb Katahdin. As I wandered along the trail through the park I was very impressed with the way the trail planners had developed the ending to this trek. The trail along the Nesowadnehunk River was quite spectacular with little waterfalls and pools all the way, it was quite serene and elegant and I stopped many times to soak in the whole environment. As I approached the Daicey Pond site I found, Pooh and Moonshine, already there and we were introduced to the Ranger who had to fill out quite a bit of paperwork to register our achievement and to give us the necessary passes to complete the hike. We were also able to move on up to the Katahdin Stream Campground 2.5miles down the way and get a little closer to our end destination. The scene across Daicey Pond and up to Katahdin was breathtaking and made the perfect photograph in the glorious sunshine. After the lead up visions of this fine mountain, this was the ultimate image as the eye was lead perfectly past the trees and across the gleaming lake to the imposing mass of Katahdin.

I still could not believe it, I had almost made it, my mind was spinning with excitement and it was sent into overdrive as I approached the campground and discovered, Norway and Longway, waiting for a lift into town after coming down off the summit. With a scream and hug it was great to be reacquainted after what seemed an age since Gorham and the last time we had seen each other. I was so pleased for them that they had made it and as they left with their ride to Millinocket I hoped that we would all be together for a final celebration. Before that though the small matter of my own successful summit was to be next on the agenda!

That night in the shelter, my last night ever on the trail was almost subdued by comparison and certainly I could see in other peoples faces some of the feelings and emotions that I was going through. It was hard. It was hard to deal with the end of this adventure. It was even harder to deal with the fact that I would probably never see all these people that I had called my friends for so long now, again and that was almost too hard. I saw it in, Moonshines eyes, a great sadness that this ‘epic trail’ had to have an ending. But as much as I was in tandem with this I knew that the reality had to come to the fore and that quite probably tomorrow would bring a natural closure to the trail and the beginnings of a new outlook on life. I hoped that tomorrow it would all become clear and that the realization of our achievement would open new frontiers to new futures. That we would have to see?

SEPTEMBER 17TH, THE END?

So here it was, the final chapter of a 2168.5mile hike along the Appalachian Trail and as I awoke at the agreed time of 4am I felt excitement ‘bubbling’ uncontrollably and a feeling of ‘destiny’ seemed to sweep through me. Breakfast was the usual mixture of oatmeal and pop tarts and a hot cup of tea, and as we sorted out our daypacks for the climb, I just kept shaking my head in disbelief at what was happening. It was still dark as we left at 5am and after registering at the Ranger Station and leaving the heavy gear behind, we set off for the final trek. Pooh, charged on ahead and, Moonshine, took second place and I brought up the rear, at my own steady pace. My mind was now almost empty, as I walked through the darkness, and as I began to climb the beginnings of the mountain all thoughts of confusion and trepidation evaporated and I turned to watch the early morning light form a new day and I felt good! As expected the ascent was huge, it was after all the single greatest climb that I would make on the whole trail, 4500feet, and as I approached some amazing sections of boulders I knew that it was not going to be easy. The said boulders were quite incredible and involved, exhaustive, ‘hands on’ climbing and the use of metal steps and handrails that were both mentally and physically taxing.

It didn’t stop there as I passed above the tree line at 3500 feet and the trail followed a crazy path over and around further lumps of rocks where I had to stop and gather my senses, to try and work out a way around these obstacles. The white blazes were almost superfluous as I generally found my own way through the maze of rocks and as the sun emerged, it became hot and sticky work and seemed to offer no end in sight. I carried on climbing, as the trail of boulders became a kind of ‘humped’ ridgeline and finally finding a level area, I was able to take a breather and absorb the mighty views from just under 4000feet. The early morning sun was casting wonderful delicate shades of orange across the expansive Maine terrain and I could feel nothing but appreciation for what I was witnessing.

The climbing got tougher the higher I went but I had not lost any of my drive and ploughed on as best as I could. It had seemed to take forever but finally I reached ‘The Gateway’ and a fascinating area called ‘Table Land’. As I looked all around it felt like a scene from a lunar landscape with dust and rocks scattered everywhere and hardly any signs of vegetation. It almost reminded me of the hostile environment that I had experienced back in the Everest Valley with a vicious rapier wind and a landscape that oozed such an inhospitable aura, it could even have been the moon!

As I looked ahead I could see the final climb up to Baxter Peak, silhouetted against the intense skyline and as I got closer I could just pick out what looked like the final sign and some human movement from hikers at the summit. Still with half a mile or so to go I began the ascent up to the ridgeline and almost before I knew it I had covered the distance and was approaching, Moonshine and Pooh, and the brown sign that signaled ‘The End’!

Pooh raised a fist in the air as a salute and Moonshine, just grinned inanely, as I walked straight passed the sign to a nearby rock and dropped the pack. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Dictaphone and uttered the legendary words “MADE IT!”

Moonshine, cheered and said, “ what a way to finish”, and I approached the sign and read the words and I then touched the brown wood, as is the custom to complete my trek. I also took a few moments to pay homage to the ‘Stars and Stripes’ that had been located at the summit, and we said a few words of prayer for those that had tragically lost their lives on that ill-fated day, the

11th September!

Then sitting down I now had to contemplate some 6 months of none stop hiking, adventure, hardship and excitement that had been the Appalachian Trail. It was still impossible to find the right words to explain what I had done and what I had achieved, where so many of my friends along the way hadn’t. But perhaps words weren’t really needed as I sat with immense pride looking across at the vast landscape of the beautiful Maine Wilderness.

I had made it, Georgia to Maine, all 2168.5 miles, every single White Blaze, all 5 Million Steps and after posing for photographs, we all drank a celebratory beer and sat on top of ‘The Greatest Mountain’, as official THRU-HIKERS of the APPALACHIAN TRAIL

DONE IT !!!

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