Foot Travel: Hiking the Appalachian Trail

By Steve Paradis

With its quiet streets, its scenic vistas overlooking the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers and its historic sense of place, Harpers Ferry is a great walking town. I am reminded of that daily as I commute on foot from my home in next-door Bolivar to my office at the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. My walk is a bit shorter today than when I first showed up on the doorstep of the national headquarters for the Appalachian Trail 18 years ago, but the excitement and promise for adventure that draws more than 15,000 visitors each year—nearly 1,000 of which are headed to Maine—doesn’t fade.

Back in 1991, as I sat listening to the advice of a business school professor, I started to give some thought to hiking the 2,100-mile Appalachian Trail (AT). My classmates and I had been assigned to put ourselves into the future in order to think retrospectively about what we might accomplish with our lives. Inspired by a cross-country bicycle trip my brother had recently completed, I decided I wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail. Just before enrolling in business school, I had visited both Mount Washington in New Hampshire and the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. Signs posting a crossing of the Appalachian Trail at each location suggested that it was, indeed, possible to walk from one point to the other.

Once I set my mind to the task, it didn’t take long for me to begin gathering information. I purchased a classic account of how to hike the AT, signed up for a membership with the Appalachian Trail Conservancy for help with information, maps and guidebooks and started to visit outdoor retailer shops to learn about the latest in backpacking gear. My plan was to start in Georgia in upcoming March and hike north to Maine.

If there’s one thing that is necessary to hike the Appalachian Trail, it is probably persistence, followed closely by a willingness to make adjustments. Suffice it to say that I experienced both before ever setting foot on the trail. The revised plan was to start at the Maine/New Hampshire border, hike 1,800 miles to Springer Mountain in northwest Georgia, then shuttle back up to where I started and hike the remaining 300 miles in Maine. Even with a September start date, I had some wild idea that if I hiked quickly, I might be able to get far enough south and effectively outrun winter.

I have never been one to relish in long snowy winters, but that winter out on the trail was one of the most enjoyable I can recall. Before I had hiked the entire Vermont section of the trail, I was experiencing nights well below freezing. I found, however, that being introduced to the cold gradually made it bearable, if not entirely pleasant. The best way I found to stay warm was to eat—the calories I didn’t burn through physical exertion I burned for warmth. When I had occasion to pass through a small town to resupply, I would make it a point to enjoy a large pizza and a half gallon of ice cream. No matter what I ate, my weight continued to drop. The snow was also a challenge. At one point in Pennsylvania, the snow was deep enough where I thought I might have to abort my hike. A quick call from a payphone to arrange to have a pair of snowshoes sent to meet me in Harpers Ferry alleviated that concern. By the time I crossed the footbridge of the Potomac, just a week before Christmas, I had convinced myself I was on my way to Georgia.

Arriving in Harpers Ferry, WV, headquarters of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, was a significant milestone on the Appalachian Trail. When I arrived at headquarters, I was greeted warmly by the staff, given an opportunity to have my photograph taken for posterity out in front of the building and treated almost as though what each is setting out to accomplish has never been achieved before. My visit was no different. Even though most of the hikers for that year had been through five months earlier, they were expecting me due to the aforementioned snowshoes. That, and a stack of Christmas cards that my mom had arranged to have sent to me from just about everyone she could think of. The staff went out of their way to make me feel welcome and to help me get resupplied.

My experiences further south continued to be just as memorable. Hiking into the northern end of Shenandoah National Park on Christmas morning and back out the southern end on New Year’s Day felt as though I had the entire park to myself. Two days after New Year’s, I met a fellow out walking his dog along the trail. He was surprised to learn of what I had done for the holidays. A few days after meeting me, he took it upon himself to contact my parents to let them know he had met me and that I was doing fine, which was no small feat as it was well before the days of the Internet.

Journeying into North Carolina brought its own set of challenges, mostly in the way of snow—lots of it. Lulled into a false sense of security by temperatures nearing 70 degrees, I figured I had indeed made it to the south and to spring. Two days later, I found myself caught on the trail in the middle of the Blizzard of ‘93, and I put my snowshoes to good use as I slogged through more than four feet of snow. Rather than heading into the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, I decided the rational thing to do at that point was to hop off and let Mother Nature have her way. I returned six weeks later and completed the rest of the trail to Georgia.

It did not take long for me to complete the 300 miles left in Maine. The woods in Maine offer some of the most beautiful natural scenery along the entire trail, but the mountains and streams you must cross to get to Katahdin, the northern terminus, present perhaps the most rugged terrain of the trail as well. Like many of the more than 11,000 people who have hiked the Appalachian Trail, I spent my time in Maine conflicted between the anticipation of completing what I had set out to achieve and reluctant to actually arrive at the end, knowing that the journey was over. On June 21, 1993, I reached the summit of Mt. Katahdin, completing my epic adventure along the Appalachian Trail.

After finishing my hike, I became involved as a volunteer with the Appalachian Trail. My initial work monitoring the property lines of the trail corridor in New Hampshire ultimately led to a term on the Appalachian Trail Conservancy’s board of directors. Soon after, I was invited to join the organization as its chief operating officer. After experiencing the trail for myself, I now work to protect and conserve the Appalachian Trail from Maine to Georgia so that 2 million people can enjoy some part of it each and every year.