Trail Magic: Going Walkabout for 2184 Miles on the Appalachian Trail

81 Pages·2014·2.26 MB·English

by  Trevelyan Quest Edwards

Table of Contents

1. The Minimalist Traveller
2. Starting on April Fools’ Day
3. Genes Bypass: Planning
4. Trail Names
5. I See The Light!
6. Campsites
7. Trail Magic Kindnesses
8. Birds, Bears & Wildlife
9. Smokey Mountains and No Return
10. Trail Food Syndrome
11. A.T. Grapevine
12. Shelter Journals & Bad Poetry
13. Handy Hints to Hiking the A.T
14. Mileage Cost; How Many Miles Is It Worth?
15. Crazies
16. Sectioning
17. Trail Days
18. Sayonara
19. Giving Up or Not?
20. Climbing Mt Katahdin and Afterwards
Appendices: After Thoughts on Seniors Travel
Appendices 2: Youthful Aspirations
About the authors
Thanks to Suzanne Thomas for photographs and to Michele Layet

1. The Minimalist Traveller
“How about I loan you a $50 Australian note for the airport bus?”
I was stuck in Sydney Airport’s Lost Baggage dept, with no cash, an
inaccessible credit card plus well-used walking boots and a backpack which
Quarantine justifiably inspected for bugs, and an Australian triathlete offered to
help me.
I’d just walked THRU the Appalachian Trail of 2,184 miles (3514.8km)
northwards from Atlanta to Mt Katahdin in Maine. Six months solo walking.
Enroute I had experienced ‘Trail Magic’ that amazingly generous philosophy of
providing ‘free’ support to THRU walkers.
But I hadn’t expected it to extend to a stranger in Sydney Airport.
I accepted with gratitude.
And I did pay him back, not just by a mention here.
Trail Magic should be passed on to other travellers.
*
That ‘void’ which motivated me to travel when I started from Darwin on April 1,
had been filled by the kindnesses of strangers, natural beauty of the Appalachian
Trail, history and the satisfaction that I’d made it THRU – hiking the mountains,
muddy waterfalls and millions of steps.
I’m a minimalist. Not many belongings and can live without most digital
connections and gadgets, am resistant to electronic monitoring of every step, but
have resorted to collecting eccentrics and a few photos. I am a lapsed
cartographer, so I like maps. And the Appalachian Trail map is over 2,000 miles
of hiking.
One in five finish. Admittedly most find it hard to schedule six months for
walking. Others try it in any order, which is called sectioning. This trail has its
own language and numerous websites. Known as A.T. you’re called a THRU-
hiker if you complete the Springer Mountain, Georgia to Mt Katahdin, Maine
trail within a year. Or you can do it in reverse from north to south along the well
blazed trail. GaMe means Georgia to Maine or NoBo (northbound) whilst MeGa
are the SoBos (southbound) Then there are Trail Names. As an Australian, the
locals called me Walkabout.
I’ll share a little known observation. Despite tales of bears, icy-mountains,
sleeping out and carrying your own supplies, it wasn’t as dangerous as outback
Australia. Well, that’s my opinion. The A.T. has lots of roads, other trekkers and
Trail Magic. The outback has poisonous snakes, crocs and vast distances! Both
have their share of tall stories and storytellers.
Travelling light is the way to go. As a Luddite, with no satellite phone (I did
have a Kindle for e-reading in the tent at night), I even mailed home my compass
and surplus gear. But boots matter.
The replacement gear shops along the trail were generous in replacing the
American brand gear of walkers, but unfortunately mine were Australian. The
American boots companies regard it as brilliant advertising to have their gear on
the feet of THRU walkers. My feet were Australian booted and lasted well, but
still needed replacement halfway. So I bought a new pair on the trail.
Shoe Death
Friday, 30 March 2012
What is a void? It’s more than a need for adventure or change of scene.
A void is a space, something missing, that needs filling. My void? I’m not too
sure. Hopefully, I can work it out on this trip step by step.
“Why are you doing this LONG walk?” I thought about my answer to this
frequently asked mates’ question while I was walking home from my farewell
night on the Darwin foreshore.
My name is Trevelyan. The next six months or however long this path of
2,000 odd miles (not kilometres) takes me to walk THRU, may be my way to fill
that void.
Starting on April 1, April Fools’ Day seems risky, but…
This is my candid account.
2. Starting on April Fools' Day
This is officially the first post of the trip.
So, as a voluntary minimalist with no digital devices, I’m not sure exactly
how I’m going to do this, but along the lines of once I find a computer I’ll relate
all the things I can remember since the last update. I guess this will be a timeline
detailing the accessibility or not of the Internet from the Appalachian Trail.
What’s happened since the farewell barbecue? Well a lot of cleaning: the unit
is so clean I almost wanted to stay a couple more days to mess it up and give it a
more humane edge. By 11.30 pm I was packed, fed and clean so I decided to
walk to the Darwin airport for my flight to Sydney.
It was fairly humid; in fact it was really humid so I ended up walking topless
and sweated non-stop. By the time I got to the airport, my feet were killing me
and somehow I managed to get a carbuncle-like rash on the inside of my knee,
I’m guessing where my shorts were rubbing. Once I got onto the plane I
collapsed into fitful sleep and slept with my legs in a weird position. Once I’d
got off the plane I was hobbling and exhausted.
‘Great,’ I thought. ‘Walked 5 k with a pack and I’m already broken.’
Luckily there was a Formula One Motel near the airport and all I could think,
when I got my bags, was to crash. I slept for three hours, woke, then went back
to sleep for another four hours.
After waking up the second time, I felt a lot more human and after a stretch,
felt like maybe I would be able to do this walk. I opened the window to see a
‘Krispy Kreme Donut’ shop across the road which felt like America was
reaching out to me.
3. Genes Bypass: Planning
Lumbering logistics
There are things that I’m good at: going bush, tackling people in field hockey,
and guessing the time from the sun. All of which are important life skills.
Unfortunately logistics is not in that list and by logistics I mean planning and
organising. Why this is so, I’m not sure, as the rest of my family are very good at
logistics but I guess I am a bit of a black sheep and the organizing gene just
bypassed me.
The lack of logistics is the reason I found myself in Atlanta, after a year or so
of knowing that I wanted to do this trail, bereft of any maps, bookings for
shuttles or hotels and just a general idea that the A.T. was to the north and that I
had to get there somehow.
Oh well, I like to call myself a reactionary traveller. As a reactionary traveller
I make do with my lack of logistical skill by immersing myself in whatever place
I find myself and then trying to find my way to where I want to be, generally via
the cheapest and least painful method.
This usually involves walking around aimlessly asking for directions until I
get there.
How did I get to Atlanta in the first place with my poor logistics? That’s a
good question. Mainly by prodding from Terry, the manager at the pool where I
work as a lifesaver, who forced me to book my plane tickets; then by my mate’s
wife Dawn (see, I finally mentioned you) who booked the tickets; and with
gentle overseeing from my family who kept enquiring if I had booked and if I
had insurance and wanted to know the details (which I finally sent today) as
proof.
So despite my logistic failings, I managed to board Delta Airlines enroute to
the land of supersize it! The plane flight was agreeable. I chatted to the two
ladies I sandwiched inbetween and then spent most of the flight watching
movies. Due to the temporal distortion that is time zones, we actually arrived in
Los Angeles before we left Sydney and I got to watch the sun rise a second time
whilst we were stuck on the tarmac. We were stuck for an hour after landing due
to a problem with the plane terminal where we were supposed to dock. This
meant it was a rush to catch the transfer to Atlanta. This wasn’t helped by the