Thru-hiker extraordinaire Liz Thomas shares her wealth of hard-earned experience in Backpacker Magazine’s Long Trails: Mastering the Art of the Thru-Hike. She covers the subject thoroughly, from why thru-hiking is appealing to an overview of several long trails to mental and physical readiness to logistics to nutrition to equipment.
One of the strengths of this book is how much Thomas emphasizes the “hike your own hike” philosophy. Each thru-hiker has his or her own reasons for hiking, as well as an individual approach to the trail. What is right for one hiker is not the right choice for another. This book highlights alternatives that will benefit different types of hikers instead of a “one-size-fits-all” method.
The sections on budgeting and scheduling are practical, presenting useful strategies for breaking down the daunting job of planning a thru-hike into manageable tasks. I benefited most from her tips on preparing for the physical and mental challenges along the trail–lots of useful pointers here, such as practicing packing and unpacking as part of the daily exercise regimen and how to communicate clearly with a resupply contact back home.
Rather than being intended for the beginning backpacker, Long Trails assumes some familiarity with backpacking and seeks to bridge the gap from shorter trail experience to thru-hiker. The information is focused on long trails rather than a weeklong trip.
The lush photography makes for both a beautiful and well-presented book. The pictures illustrate concepts nicely and show some of the wonderful scenery along the trail. I also appreciated Thomas’ cheerful, friendly tone; she comes across as very down-to-earth.
Several “asides” of paragraph-to-page length recount other hikers’ experiences. These frequently amplify Thomas’ points, and sometimes present alternative opinions and methods. A lengthy section examines different hiker’s gear lists piece-by-piece, showing multiple individual approaches to equipment.
Long Trails is vital reading for anyone interested in a longer trail–say, any trail where a resupply is necessary. Whether you’re headed for a more modest challenge or setting out on the Continental Divide Trail, this book will help you get there.
4 stars. Hike Smart: Tips and Tactics for Improving Your Treks by Ann Marie Brown and Terra Breeden draws from the authors’ extensive backpacking experience to present a readable, instructive guide that benefits novices and experienced hikers alike. Topics range from safety to comfort to gear selection to navigational skills.
What I appreciated most about this guide is its conversational tone. Most hiking guides read like a textbook, alternating checklists with dry instructional material. The authors here do an excellent job relating information on a personal level, as if they are discussing what works for them, and most importantly why it works for them. In addition to their own experiences, they relate many anecdotes from other hikers. These anecdotes blend well with the text, either illustrating the rationale of the authors or providing an experience that they analyze and use to teach.
I also am a fan of the authors’ middle ground stance on ultralight gear. Many ultralight advocates are far more willing than I to trade ounces on their backs for substantial reductions in comfort and safety and/or more investment of time in camp and on the trail (and, to their credit, they have mastered the skills and attitude necessary for that). Brown and Breeden favor an approach of understanding and evaluating the trade-offs presented by ultralight gear–shedding weight where it makes sense, yet not being shy to pack something heavier that elevates one’s hiking experience.
Brown and Breeden’s self-deprecating wit adds to the warmth of Hike Smart. They don’t take themselves too seriously, and little asides like “If you’re a worry-wort like Terra, carry both” are a refreshing break from the “ZOMG You’re Doing It WRONG!!!” attitude that’s unfortunately found in many online hiker communities.
The only real shortcoming of this book is that some topics seem biased towards the experience of backpacking either solo or duo. For example, the section on stoves can be summarized with “use a Jetboil/MSR Reactor integrated canister stove.” While that is a good solution for the solo hiker, it’s not nearly as good when cooking for 4 or more.
I’d also say that this book is very western US-centric. This would be a complaint if the gorgeous pictures of all their Sierra Nevada hikes hadn’t managed to take all my breath away! But I did notice that while topics such as how to secure a tent when tent stakes cannot be driven are covered, whereas there is no real discussion of the use of a hammock as bed and shelter, as is popular in eastern US backpacking.
Rather than the traditional hiking guide which focuses on instruction in a particular method, Hike Smart relies on teaching sound decision-making skills for hikers. I found myself agreeing with a great deal of this book. In many cases, the authors have put into words what I have discovered through experience or by accident. I checked this out from the library expecting to skim it, and found myself reading, enjoying, and learning from it.
Middle Tennessee is a lush, rolling landscape of hills, farmland, woods, and rivers. Bordered by the Tennessee River to the west, the ground rises through the karst topography of the Nashville Basin and the bluffs of the Highland Rim to the breathtaking Cumberland Plateau gorges and gulfs that form the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. The limestone bedrock creates a fascinating combination of caves and prairie-like cedar glades that are home to several unique species of plants.
The human history of Middle Tennessee is as rich as its fertile soil. Several Native American tribes lived, hunted, and roamed the area, primarily the Cherokee and Chickasaws. Early European visitors found the land wild and daunting. Legendary frontiersmen such as David Crockett and Daniel Boone cemented their place in American history with their roles in settling the state. The Civil War turned much of the state into a pivotal battlefield as the territory changed hands repeatedly.
Tennesseans value our outdoor resources highly, with a huge number of parks, trails, and greenways available throughout the state. We’re fortunate to have the fantastic Tennessee State Parks to preserve our lovely landscape and cultural heritage. The 56 parks in the system all offer hiking, as well as many other activities such as fishing, boating, and camping. The park staff and volunteers universally embody another bountiful Tennessee resource–Southern hospitality and friendliness. And one more wonderful thing about our state parks… admission is FREE for all!
With so much to offer, it’s hard to know where to start when it comes to Tennessee trails. I’ve been hiking in Tennessee all my life, and I still have a long list of trails I haven’t done! Over the next several articles, I’m presenting my favorites within an easy day trip distance of Nashville that showcase the beauty and history of our state. Happy hiking, and hope to see you on the trail soon!
Dunbar Cave State Park (website), Clarksville, Tennessee 1.9 mile loop via Recovery Trail and Lake Trail with shorter option available Difficulty: Easy Trailhead:N36.55095°, W87.30621° Highlights: Striking cave entrance, lake shore, historical interest
Dunbar Cave has a rich history, most notably as a venue owned by Roy Acuff for live music, dancing, and radio broadcasts. This attractive loop trail passes through a forest of cedars and hardwoods, along the shore of spring-fed Swan Lake, and next to the cave entrance that forms a natural bandshell. Tours of the cave require reservations for one of their ranger-led programs. Over 8 miles of cave passages have been explored, and it is noteworthy for its large, sheltered entrance.
This is a very popular area and can become crowded. While the suburban setting never quite escapes the hustle and bustle of Clarksville, it’s a peaceful respite nonetheless, and a haven for waterfowl and wildlife.
Hike this loop clockwise, saving the best parts of the trail for last. Start at the marked trailhead by the upper parking lot and follow the Recovery Trail. You’ll quickly pass a trail leading to the cave that goes off to the right; keep going on the Recovery Trail. Go left at the next junction to stay on the Recovery Trail (you can take the Short Loop Trail if you’d like a 1.1 mile total route). The path winds through mainly wooded areas, up a hill and along bottomland, before reaching the other end of the Short Loop Trail and the shore of Swan Lake. Some stairs will take you to the mouth of the cave. From there, it’s a short walk back to the parking area.
19. Jones Mill Trail
Long Hunter State Park (website), Hermitage, Tennessee 4 mile double loop with shorter options available Difficulty: Easy first loop, moderate second loop due to hill climb Trailhead:N36.07455°, W86.50989° Highlights: Wildflowers, cedar glades, lake views
One of the newer trails in the Nashville area, the Jones Mill Trail was designed for mountain bikes, but makes for a fine hiking experience too. This double loop winds its way through forests and meadows, ranging from the shore of J. Percy Priest Lake to the top of Bald Knob.
A noteworthy feature of this trail is that it passes through several cedar glades. This unique habitat occurs only in Tennessee and Kentucky. Limestone bedrock is either exposed or covered only by a thin layer of soil, leading to plant life typically found in desert environments. The Tennessee coneflower (Echinacea tennesseensis) is one of the interesting species you might see along this trail. This beautiful light-purple member of the sunflower family is found in less than ten locations, all within Davidson, Rutherford, and Wilson Counties. Thought to be extinct in the 1960s, successful habitat preservation efforts of the Nature Conservancy and Tennessee State Parks have led to its removal from the endangered species list.
Bikers have the right-of-way on this trail: listen for them and be prepared to step aside and let them pass. Note that there is wide variance of reported trail distances. The park website lists it as 4.5 miles, and it’s commonly listed as 3.6 in hiking guides. My GPS recorded 4 miles for the two loops as well as the shortcut connector in both directions.
Just past the trailhead, note the “Direction of Travel” arrow and follow it to do the first loop clockwise. The trail will ascend gently through scrub brush and cedar glades, and there will almost always be wildflowers here during the warmer months. At about 3/4 mile in, a shortcut trail leading to the right allows for a quick return to the trailhead. The first loop completes in bottomland. A short there-and-back segment crossing an old stone fence leads to the second loop. Follow this loop clockwise as well, climbing the steep trail to the top of Bald Knob. You’ll parallel the lake shore for the rest of the hike, completing the Bald Knob loop, then staying left when you reach the first loop. The lake shore is easily accessible from this portion of the trail.
18. Cheeks Bend Bluff View Trail
Duck River Complex State Natural Area (website), Columbia, Tennessee 1.8 mile balloon Difficulty: Easy Trailhead:N35.56813°, W86.88489° Highlights: River view, cave
The Duck River is the most biologically diverse river in North America, home to over 500 species of plants, 150 of fish, and 50 of mussels. It drains much of the southern portion of the Highland Rim, flowing into the Tennessee River southwest of Waverly. The Cheeks Bend tract of the Duck River Complex protects an overlook of the river.
This is a trail that is simply fun to do. My favorite part is a small cave leading from the top of the bluff to a riverside view below. Note that the cave may be closed at times to protect bats from the spread of white-nose syndrome; please respect the closure if the signs are present. The cave slopes downward steeply; watch your head! You’ll be able to see the light from one of its entrances throughout the passage.
From the trailhead, follow a there-and-back portion of the trail for about 3/4 mile to the loop junction. Keep left, coming quickly to the riverside bluff. After enjoying the view, look for the eye-catching blue and red blazes that denote the cave entrance, which is several steps behind you if you’re standing on the bluff facing the river. As you complete the loop portion, the porous limestone geography that lends itself to caves is obvious in the sinkholes and exposed rock.
17. Hidden Lake
Harpeth River State Park (website), Kingston Springs, Tennessee 1.9 mile double loop with shorter options available Difficulty: Moderate due to bluff-top trail around lake Trailhead:N36.08790°, W87.02458° Highlights: River views, stone bluffs, beautiful lake, historical interest, wildlife
The Hidden Lake tract was recently added to Harpeth River State Park, which protects several segments of this 115-mile tributary of the Cumberland and provides nine access points for canoe and kayak launches. This tract is easily accessed from McCrory Lane off I-40, and its appeal to both hikers and paddlers can lead to busy weekends.
This hike has a little something to offer to everyone. Abundant wildlife and birds will please any naturalist. Hidden Lake is formed by an abandoned quarry, and its deep blue waters make for picturesque views. The trail is interesting, climbing the rim of the quarry to circle the lake. The ruins of a resort from the 1940s add a little bit of long-ago pizazz to the hike.
The Blue Bird Loop Trail departs from the informational kiosk through a mowed path in a field, skirting the treeline at the banks of the Harpeth. A feeder stream marks the edge of the meadow. Follow the Hidden Lake Trail through heavier woods to a trail junction. Stay left on the Hidden Lake Trail. The steep bank to your right leads to one part of the quarry–scramble up it on the social trail if you like. Soon you’ll near the Harpeth again, and just around the corner is the first view of Hidden Lake. Climb the steep path around the edge of the quarry, enjoying several viewpoints over the waters. Stay wary of the steep edge! After skirting the lake, you’ll come to a junction with the Ridge Loop Trail. Choose whichever path you like–they wind up in the same place. A shortcut trail leads between the two halves of the loop. As the two halves meet again, you’ll find the ruins of the resort at the side of the trail. Turn left on the Hidden Lake Trail just as you complete your descent of the bluff and follow it back to the Blue Bird Loop Trail. Take the half you didn’t follow before back to the trailhead.
16. Bledsoe Creek
Bledsoe Creek State Park (website), Gallatin, Tennessee 3.1 mile loop with shorter options available Difficulty: Moderate due to one steep climb Trailhead:N36.37843°, W86.36026° Highlights: Wildlife, lake views, peaceful forest and pastureland
I’m quite fond of Bledsoe Creek State Park, as I grew up near Gallatin and visited it many times. Its lakeshore location makes for great wildlife viewing. Hawks, herons, egrets, turtles, ducks, and geese are common sights along the shore. The park is bordered to the north by open pastures, and the transitional zone between forest and meadow is prime habitat for whitetail deer.
The park also provides a special opportunity for natural encounters with the paved, ADA-compliant Mayo Wix and Birdsong Nature Trails. A long boardwalk and a boat dock are good viewpoints for wildlife watching as well.
Start at the Mayo Wix Trailhead, following the paved path to the Shoreline Trail. At the first junction, turn left for the quickest route, stay straight for a slightly longer one, or go right for the long way. After checking out the wildlife viewing area, follow the Shoreline Trail along the Bledsoe Creek embayment. You’ll pass near camping sites and cross a park road. The trail goes through a wider bottomland to the junction with the High Ridge Trail. Get ready, because the High Ridge Trail starts with a bang as it ascends a steep hill to (you guessed it!) the top of a ridge. The trail meanders along the ridge, with forest to the left and pasture to the right. You’ll pass junctions with the Owl Ridge Trail and a shortcut as the trail descends back to bottomland. After crossing the road by the park entrance, use the Mayo Wix Trail to return to the starting point.
Hiking is a fun activity, but a bit of preparation will pay off in comfort, enjoyment, and safety. Adventure Alan’s excellent article 13 Essentials for the Modern Hiker will help you be prepared with gear and skills to stay safe on the trail.
Leave No Trace
As we are fortunate to have such wonderful natural treasures to enjoy, so are we obligated to protect and preserve them. The Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics is a wonderful resource to learn about using these beautiful places in a manner that will leave them for future generations. Their 7 Principles should guide you in all your outdoor activities.
I recorded all tracks with either a Garmin GPSMap 60CSx or a Garmin GPSMap 64s. I cleaned the tracks to remove spurious points and split into separate trails (to allow each trail to be individually labelled) in Garmin’s BaseCamp software. I imported the tracks into CalTopo to generate the topographic map, then edited the resulting image in Adobe PhotoShop to add captions and icons.
All photographs were taken by me using either a Canon EOS 10D or a Canon 5D Mark II (with maybe the odd iPhone shot thrown in for good measure). I usually hike with the Canon EF 24-105mm f/4L IS lens, which is a good combination of versatility, image quality, and weight. I occasionally use a Canon EF 50mm f/1.4, a Canon EF 24-70mm f/2.8L IS, or a Canon EF 17-40 f/4L.
It unfortunately bears saying, in our litigious culture, that you are responsible for your own safety while hiking. This includes evaluation of your own abilities and limitations, bringing proper equipment, evaluating the current conditions of a trail, learning appropriate outdoor skills such as navigation and safety around wildlife, and much more. I assume no liability for any consequence arising from your use of the information provided here, from any omission, or from any out-of-date or obsolete information.
4 stars. Philip Connors details one year of his eight spent as a fire lookout in the Gila National Forest in New Mexico in Fire Season: Field Notes from a Wilderness Lookout, penning a literate and enjoyable volume on nature, life, history, and philosophy that could only come from someone with a love for solitude and lots of time for reflection. Hiking 8 miles each way to his tower, Connors was stationed from April to August to watch for puffs of smoke. Once smoke was spotted, he coordinated with other lookouts and fire response crews as the fire was suppressed, contained, or allowed to burn.
The main focus of the book is solitude–its effect on him and how he dealt with it. His pleasure at simply enjoying his environment and the companionship of his dog Alice is obvious. His descriptions of the sights that he sees–trees, rivers, mountain ranges, animals–are all evocative without being overly flowery. If you get the idea that there’s not a lot of action in this book, you’re right; read it for the author’s eye and command of phrasing rather than expecting a thrill-a-minute pageturner.
Central to Connors’ writing is an exploration of man’s relationship to land. He gives a good account of how our understanding of nature has evolved from a policy of total suppression of fire to realization that fire is part of the natural course of renewal.
The weakest parts of the book for me were several long passages discussing other writers who have been fire lookouts such as Norman Maclean and Edward Abbey. There’s a lot of hero worship for Jack Kerouac that I found a bit tedious. I wanted to hear Connors’ voice, not the lengthy quotes from other authors!
I particularly enjoyed his recounting of the history of the area, especially that of Apache chief Victorio and his 1879-80 campaign to keep freedom for his people. That story is equal parts noble and heartbreaking.
It’s rare that I enjoy a book about not much happening as much as I did with Philip Connors’ Fire Season. A thoughtful, enjoyable read that I recommend for lovers of mountains and nature.
2.5 stars. Silas Chamberlin examines trail development and culture in the United States in On the Trail: A History of American Hiking. Starting with the developments in technology and culture that first led to the rise of walking as a leisure activity, the author traces how interest in hiking developed, what factors drove its growth, how trails were built, and the decline of the trail club in favor of individual hikers.
The book is rich with noteworthy information about the hiking clubs that actively developed trail networks and promoted hiking as a leisure activity. At its genesis, hiking required the rise of a working class exempt from physical labor (who wants to walk for fun when one must walk all day to put food on the table?). The clubs were largely egalitarian, with membership being extended to all interested regardless of sex or race; an interesting sociological observation. Clubs typically designed, developed, maintained, and shared information about routes within their purview.
The history of these clubs contains many fascinating tidbits that give insight into the mindset of the hiker community. The story of the Dartmouth Outing Club is a great read. I liked the tale behind the founding of the Mazamas in Portland, Oregon: to ensure that membership was for accomplished climbers, the first meeting was held on the summit of Mount Hood. Another great anecdote was how a club in New York was laying out a trail with string, only to find that they were just ahead of hikers following their route.
After World War II, On the Trail turns nostalgic, examining a decline in membership and influence of the trail clubs. Many clubs, such as the Sierra Club, turned to a conservation and environmental focus. Governmental funding focus changed towards multi-use pathways seen as a transportation alternative rather than featuring closeness to nature as the main purpose. Technological changes in equipment, the availability of military surplus, and advances in food storage enabled people to hike individually. As hiking has become more popularized, the paradox of being “loved to death” has forced hikers to adopt lower-impact methods and environmental causes.
And here I veer from review to rebuttal…
At the genesis of hiking culture, hiking or backpacking was virtually impossible without club membership or guidance. Routes did not exist until clubs established them, and there were not resources available outside club newsletters and word of mouth. Equipment was not readily available, and was of such a weight that it was only suited to group use. Since then, the availability of trails, information, and equipment has lessened the importance of a club (or for that matter even a group) to a beginner.
Another factor in group hiking’s decline that this book does not cover is that barriers often exist that prevent large groups from hiking. Permits or campsite reservations often specify maximum limits on group sizes, and popular areas frequently need to be reserved considerably prior to the trip.
I would also posit that many hikers had their first experience outdoors within a social structure: friends, family, and organizations. My first hikes were on family vacations, and my first backpacks were with my Boy Scout troop. In college, I was a trip leader with the school outdoor recreation program, taking many first-timers out into the woods. One of the common sights on trails around me is the fruits of an Eagle Scout service project: benches, trailhead kiosks, interpretive signage, and often even the trails themselves. Most hikers are ecstatic to share trips, hike preparation tasks, and skills instruction with newcomers. Leave No Trace is widely practiced and preached. Many hikers actively participate in governmental park and trail planning. We may hike individually more often, but we’ve also taken a much larger sense of personal responsibility for trail development, maintenance, and evangelism.
One of the huge weaknesses is that the author’s perspective seem to drive his narrative. He spent the summer of 2003 on the trail crew of the Adirondack Mountain Club (thank you for your contributions to the trails of that beautiful area, Mr. Chamberlin!), and he clearly lets his experiences there determine his idea of what hiking should be. Through its erroneous need to equate trail clubs with the hiking community, this book becomes far less authoritative and interesting as its reporting approaches modern day.
I was also rubbed the wrong way by occasional prejudices and unsubstantiated claims. As an example, he points to the National Trails System Act of 1968 as the turning point of when we began to expect government-provided trails to be the norm and “the volunteer ethic that had defined the hiking community for more than one hundred years was lost.” Yet he provides no evidence to substantiate this assertion other than club membership numbers. His statement would have far more credence had he quantified a change in volunteer hours, number of trails, general decline in condition of trails, etc. He then goes on to build a strawman, again without offering any evidence: “New hikers believed that they were entitled to clean, well-maintained trails. Why, they wondered, should they be asked to do more?”
In the epilogue, his prejudices are again apparent:
“Even the most unlikely of places, Brentwood, Tennessee–located in what has been called the most conservative county in America–had at least 20 miles of trails.”
I happen to live in the county he refers to, and have hiked many times in Brentwood (make sure you check out the Red Trail at the recently-established Marcella Vivrette Smith Park if you visit!). I’m curious as to why it is “the most unlikely of places,” as Tennessee has a rich outdoor tradition. And what does its political leaning have to do with its trails? The author has already established that the rise of the hiking club culture he so prizes was fueled by middle class and wealthy preservationist benefactors, and if there’s a place that’s middle class or wealthy in Tennessee, it’s Brentwood for sure.
Chamberlin fails to mention current ambitious trail projects, which are often driven by clubs who coordinate government and volunteer effort. Examples are Boston’s Bay Circuit Trail and California’s Bay Area Ridge Trail. In my area, many park trails are maintained by “friends of” groups that organize work days and promulgate information. As an example, private land access revocations led to a significant rerouting of the excellent Fiery Gizzard Trail, and the Friends of South Cumberland State Park led the charge to have it rerouted, and volunteers working with Tennessee State Parks were able to complete the rerouting ahead of schedule.
On the Trail‘s most glaring oversight is its total ignorance of online hiker communities. There is no mention whatsoever of the huge number of online gathering places for hikers–hugely popular Facebook groups for the Appalachian and Pacific Crest Trails, the large number of Meetup groups regarding hiking, collaborative trail sites featuring user submissions, recommendations, and reviews of trails, Instagram sharing by and for hikers, and so on. I find it very hard to take Chamberlin’s account of the decline of hiking community seriously when he neglects these resources.
Permeating On the Trail is the author’s implication of “wrongfun” that if you’re hiking by yourself, you’re doing it wrong: you’re an individualistic “consumer” hiker (boo! hiss!) instead of a “producer” club member who is social and contributes to the community (applause!). For me, part of the appeal of hiking is that it can be a private activity, or it can be a social activity with family, friends, and even strangers. There isn’t a “right” reason to set boot to trail, and I certainly can’t see any basis for stating that hiking as a social activity is better or worse than hiking alone. The hiking community has a phrase that perfectly captures how different hikers have different goals: “hike your own hike.”
The text is authored at a very high reading level, with dense, information-packed paragraphs. One simple improvement to its readability would have been to break up its five chapters into smaller, more focused ones (for example, one chapter on the Long Trail, one on the Dartmouth Outing Club, one on the National Trails System Act of 1968, etc.). The text would flow better without even having to be altered, as the reader would have both a logical stopping place between topics instead of monolithic prose and a cue that the text was shifting to a new topic. (I suspect that the author’s chapter layout was dictated by his “decline of the hiking club” theme, and a shift to shorter chapters would not have helped his case, though.)
The interspersed pictures are excellent, adding life to the text. They are drawn from a variety of sources and are nicely illustrative of the history of trails and trail clubs.
I’m very torn on my rating for On the Trail. Were it simply a history, it would be a 4 star examination of trails and trailbuilders. Where Chamberlin veers into sociology, his obvious and pedantic axe to grind detracts substantially from the value of his work as he laments the supposed “golden age” of the hiking club. The information is good; improvements in the presentation and thematic content would have made a much better volume.
4 stars. For nine months in 1925-1926, Paul Adams was the caretaker of the camp at Mount LeConte in what would soon become Great Smoky Mountains National Park. He selected a German shepherd dog to be his companion, and his new friend proved invaluable. Smoky Jack is compiled from Adams’ journals, complete with a wealth of pictures of the author and his dog, footnotes, and standardization of place names to what park visitors today will know.
Smoky Jack was trained as a police dog and had both a keen intelligence and a special bond with Adams. He was devoted to his master, repeatedly slipping a chain and collar to join Adams when he was left behind. Smoky Jack was useful in many ways: he defended the camp on top of LeConte from a lone timber wolf, he was instrumental in the rescue of many lost hikers, and he helped save Adams after a slip in the rough terrain of the Huggins Hell. Perhaps his most noteworthy accomplishment was that he learned to go from the mountaintop to a store in Gatlinburg, returning with up to 30 pounds in supplies in leather panniers that Adams made for him.
Along with the story of Adams and Smoky Jack, we also get a wonderful historical insight into the genesis of the National Park. Adams was instrumental in developing the trail network in the LeConte area. His journals contain many interactions with the drivers of the conservationist movement that established the park, and those familiar with the Smokies will find many people whose last names became noteworthy features in the park: Ogle, Kephart, Ramsey, and more.
I was also humbled that Smoky Jack would make the trip from the summit of LeConte to Gatlinburg and back in 4 1/2 hours… a blistering pace for sure!
Smoky Jack is a treasure trove for anyone who loves dogs or Great Smoky Mountains National Park and its history.
Unique among thru-hiker guide books, Appalachian Trials: A Psychological and Emotional Guide to Successfully Thru-Hiking the Appalachian Trail discusses the mental outlook necessary for the rigorous 2,200 mile hike. Zach Davis covers mental preparation prior to a thru-hike, keeping a mindset of enjoying the experience even when severely challenged, and acclimating back to “real life” after the hike.
I especially enjoyed his focus on keeping perspective on the trail, which is infused with optimism and remembering that, while a particular uphill, rainy day, or overcrowded shelter may be taxing, you are there to both enjoy the experience and accomplish something memorable.
“The trail should be enjoyed, and when joy is difficult to achieve, personal growth should become the focus.”
Appalachian Trials is definitely focused on thru-hiking, but its lessons can apply to almost any facet of life from personal improvement to on-the-job goals: optimism, taking in the moment, keeping the goal in focus.
In the most moving passage in the book, Davis tells about how near the end of his hike, he passed the body of Michael “Open Mike” Guerette and a crowd of hikers who had attempted to revive him (he likely either collapsed on the trail or fell and sustained a fatal injury). Davis was shaken by the experience, feeling sorrow for the death of a man he did not know but could easily identify with. Upon reaching the next shelter, he found Guerette’s entry from earlier in the day, describing the pleasure he felt at talking to a family of hikers on the trail. The entry ended with this statement: “Today is a great day to be alive. – Open Mike”–a touching reminder to appreciate the moments we’re given.
Davis draws from his thru-hiking experience to explore the psychological components necessary for success on the AT–arguably far more important than which pack or water filtration is best. Appalachian Trials is a great read for anyone interested in thru-hiking, or simply looking for an engagingly-written book about achieving success.
4 stars. David Miller was a “regular guy”: 41, married with three girls, working as a software engineer, yet wanting something a little more. He sought it by turning in his notice and heading out on the Appalachian Trail to thru-hike the 2,200 mile footpath from Georgia to Maine. He takes us along the path with him in AWOL on the Appalachian Trail, the story of his 2003 AT thru-hike.
Miller communicates well, with direct sentences and little flowery prose. He’s pretty even keeled and approaches the AT with a pragmatic sense, but he also realizes that the goal is to enjoy himself rather than simply to reach a destination or put a feather in his cap. I get the feeling that Miller finds satisfaction in simply taking in the moment:
“…spectacular overlooks and scenic waterfalls have universal appeal. But I have come to recognize that most of what is memorable and pleasing about my time on the trail is ordinary moments in the outdoors. Simply sitting unhurried in the shade of leaves is an irreplaceable moment. It is a joy in itself to amble through the woods for hours, even when views are limited to the dense trees surrounding me. It is fulfilling to be saturated with the sights, sounds, and smells of the outdoors. My fond recollections of my hike are full of unremarkable moments, like the smell of a dewy morning, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the blaze of a campfire, the soothing trickle of a stream, or the rays of sun through a maze of trees.”
Any AT trail journal is, by necessity, repetitive: get up, hike, eat, set up camp, repeat until resupply point/town is reached, shower, eat massive amounts of food, hitchhike back to the trail, hike. Just as the sum is greater than the parts on a thru-hike, so is AWOL on the Appalachian Trail: no single thing kept me turning pages, but I did anyway because Miller’s hike was satisfying to experience through his eyes.
Miller is frank about the challenges of the trail: foot pain, gastrointestinal distress, drudgery, steep climbs, inclement weather. He also gives a good sense of the pleasure and fulfillment of the trail.
As a fortysomething code monkey myself, I easily related to Miller’s outlook and wish to fulfill a dream. It’s inspiring to know us cubicle jockeys can do something extraordinary when we put our minds to it! What I appreciated most was his frank discussion of why he chose to go, and what he got out of it:
“…it is important for parents to continue to live their own lives. We can’t sit by and say we’ve already made our decisions, done our striving, and dish out opinions on the doings of our children. Words alone lack authority, and we risk making them surrogates for the life we’d like to lead. We can better relate to the budding aspirations of our children if we follow dreams of our own.”
AWOL on the Appalachian Trail shows that attitude and persistence, combined with planning and preparation, are keys to success on the trail (and probably in life as well). This would be a great book for any prospective thru-hiker to get a good feel for how to proceed on the AT, and very enjoyable to armchair hikers everywhere.
4 stars. Each chapter of Lost!: A Ranger’s Journal of Search and Rescue details a disappearance in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and subsequent rescue effort as told by ranger Dwight McCarter. The introductory text describes the circumstances that necessitated the search and rescue effort. McCarter’s journal entries outline his role once he joins the search, and he details the terrain, weather, evidence found by the searchers, and most interestingly, his impression of the decisions and actions of the lost party.
The writing is clear and direct, favoring the factual over the dramatic, yet doesn’t miss McCarter’s love for the land, appreciation of its beauty, and emotional involvement with each search and rescue. The stories are memorable, sometimes tragic and sometimes happy. The willingness of the searchers to trek through the treacherous backcountry and “laurel hells” of the Smokies in any weather, day and night, is inspiring even when the outcome is sad.
As an avid hiker and frequent visitor to the Smokies, I found this book to be very interesting for several reasons. I’m familiar enough with many of the trails and areas described that I can very easily relate to the rescues. I appreciated reading about the park from the point of view of someone whose intimate knowledge of its terrain gave me extra insight into the park; even walking GSMNP’s trails doesn’t give more than a hint at how rugged and wild a place it is. The line between finding a lost person and recovery of a body often comes down to pre-hike preparation combined with sound decisions, and this book highlights how both are essential when conditions worsen or the unexpected occurs. I also found it very interesting that there are a number of airplane crash sites in the Smokies (McCarter often checked those to see if lost parties took refuge in the wreckage).
A quick and interesting read, Dwight McCarter’s Lost! is a great addition for anyone who loves the outdoors.
4 stars. Anna “Bug” Herby’s story of her 2014 PCT thru-hike in A Walk With Mud: A Story of Two Friends Hiking from Canada to Mexico on the Pacific Crest Trail is equal parts hiking story and tale of her slowly imploding relationship with her boyfriend and hiking partner “Mud”.
Rather than starting from the Mexican border in April or May and heading north (north-bounders or “NoBos” in trail lingo), Bug and Mud’s grad school completion dictated a south-bound hike, leaving the Canadian border in July. Bug’s clear writing traces their route through the snowy passes of Washington, the volcanic landscape of Oregon, around a forest fire ravaged area to the breathtaking High Sierra country of California, and finishing in the desert.
I think Bug did as good a job of any PCT author at expressing love for the trail and the mountains of the west. She never glosses over the challenges, but she doesn’t revel in them for self-aggrandizement or devolve into “misery porn” that some trail journals do. I would have liked to read more about her feel for the land she traveled over, as well as a little more logistics about her hike.
It’s quickly obvious that Bug and Mud want different things both out of their PCT hike and out of life. The number of times that healing for their relationship was within the reach of either of them but they responded poorly is staggering. I was saddened because it was obvious that they both cared about each other, but neither one could express their own needs. Many passages boiled down to that they would approach the trail with different mindsets, fail to communicate those mindsets, and then wind up feeling hurt and alone. There are also some nice moments where they supported each other, having the right words or a hug to make the other feel better–they both strike me as good people, even if they couldn’t make their relationship work. Instead of the shared challenge of the trail bringing them together, it felt like their hike was one of two solo hikers who shared a tent along 2,600+ miles of bittersweet moments.
At its best, A Walk With Mud is a beautiful, loving look at some of the gorgeous scenery of the Cascades and the Sierras. Mixed in is a tale of a fumbling, failing relationship between two people who discover that caring about each other and sharing activities isn’t enough. The “older and wiser” tone of the narration and the hopeful epilogue underscores that their PCT experience wasn’t lost, and I was left hoping that both Bug and Mud find happiness.