Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, March 14, 1993 TAG: 9303120637
SECTION: TRAVEL PAGE: F-6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By Melissa DeVaughn/Staff writer
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
SHE'S BLAZING HER OWN TRAIL
LAST spring, my world changed.One minute I was beginning to study for final exams at Virginia Tech, sitting at a table joking and complaining about exams with a friend. The next I was in a private waiting room at Roanoke Memorial Hospital, wondering if my 22-year-old sister would survive a terrible car crash. We lost our grandmother in that accident and could only hope that Mary, my younger sister, would live.
She survived, and our family grew a little bit stronger and a whole lot closer. Perspectives change. Mine did.
Soon after that I decided to hike the Appalachian Trail, a 2,146-mile slice of wilderness ridgetop footpath, beginning at Springer Mountain, Ga., winding through 14 states to Mount Katahdin, Maine.
The Appalachian Trail has been in existence for more than 50 years and for most people, it has gone unnoticed. As a child it did for me even though I grew up in Troutville, only a few miles from it.
As I entered high school, however, and became interested in hiking, I became more aware of my surroundings, particularly the Appalachian Trail. I'd see thru-hikers - those who hike or attempt to hike the entire trail - dirty and tired but smiling, walking down Mountain Pass Road, a section of the Appalachian Trail on a winding road in Botetourt County.
Climbing to Fullhardt Knob outside of Troutville once, I came upon two thru-hikers and their dog. They complained about hardships, but said Virginia was beautiful.
And there was the time when I was working at the local drugstore and picked up two thru-hikers. It was a Sunday afternoon and they needed to go to the post office, but it was closed. Rather than get back on the trail, I offered them our back yard as a campsite, which they gratefully accepted.
My parents thought I was a little crazy, bringing home two strangers. I'd befriended stray dogs and even hidden a calico kitten in my bedroom for several days, but Bonnie and Joe Galicia from Florida definitely were the most interesting creatures I'd brought home yet.
They stayed with us that night and shared many interesting stories from the trail. I listened in awe, wishing someday I would be able to do the same thing.
Now, one spring after the accident, I am realizing that dream. I have decided life is a book and you are the author. Write a good book, it becomes a best seller. Realize your dreams, you will live a full life.
For me, that dream, combined with a love of nature that I ultimately chose as a career in outdoor writing, is to walk more than 2,000 miles, following not only the little white blazes on the trees and rocks that identify the Appalachian Trail, but the silent onset of a very special spring.
That decision made, I had to go on to more practical things. I started by reading all the information I could on the Appalachian Trail and especially by talking to other accomplished hikers.
I learned to expect terrain in Georgia similar to what there is in Virginia. Various authors described the weeklong hike through the Smokies as one of the prettiest sections on the trail, but also one of the easiest to hike - even with Clingman's Dome the highest point on the entire trail at 6,643 feet - because of its heavy use.
I read about the shelters, which are spaced about seven to eight miles apart. They are along the entire length of the trail, and are an option for hikers who would rather not set up a tent after a long day's hike.
One-fourth of the Appalachian Trail is in Virginia, and one author wrote of the "Virginia Blues," which often hits hikers eager to move on to another state. Pennsylvania, I read, is rocky, and I should expect to go through at least one pair of boots there.
"Be sure to get inserts for your boots," one friend advised me about the Pennsylvania section.
The consensus is that the White Mountains in New Hampshire are the toughest.
Another friend who thru-hiked in 1990 told me of the "longest stream in Maine" during the rainy season. "It's the Appalachian Trail," he said, and you just have to get used to walking in the rain.
Next, I had to decide what gear I would need. I had to make an itinerary, planning my estimated mileage and arrival at various towns along the way. I had to buy food that wouldn't spoil to mail to myself. And I had to stay physically fit to meet the mountains.
Many questions arose:
Shall I take my dog, Ruby, even though many people suggest it is not a good idea? (Yes, she goes everywhere with me, and I will just deal with the minor inconveniences.)
Can I afford this? (I don't know, but money should not get in the way of happiness. I scrimped and saved. With the added cost of having Ruby along, I probably will spend about $1,800 while on the trail).
Are you quitting your job? (No, I am taking a leave of absence and will return in September).
Are you quitting school? (No, I will continue with graduate school upon my return, taking the summer off from classes).
I bought the 1993 Thru-Hikers Handbook, by Dan "Wingfoot" Bruce, who has hiked the Appalachian Trail some unimaginable number of times - seven I think. Most thru-hikers adopt nicknames or "trail names," and "Wingfoot" is well-known among other hikers.
"Wingfoot's" book gives just about all the information a person could need on planning a thru-hike: phone numbers and locations of businesses that cater to hikers, post office addresses and phone numbers, even descriptions of the kinds of wildlife and vegetation seen along different sections of the trail.
A major decision for me was whether I would have a hiking partner. I had hiked an 82-mile section of the trail alone last year - just Ruby and me. It was fine then, and I thought it would be fine for this extended journey. I didn't want the fact that I was a single female hiking alone to make me feel vulnerable.
Statistically, the Appalachian Trail is safer than being on the highway or even being in any town. But, to be on the safe side, and after reading advice that said always travel with a partner (whether you are male or female), I decided not to travel alone.
Finding a partner to hike 15 miles a day for practically six months isn't quite as easy as say, finding a companion to go to the Sunday matinee. A friend lent me a copy of the Appalachian Trail Conference's Trailway Newsletter, which includes a section containing names and addresses of people looking for hiking partners. I soon saw the benefit of being a member of the ATC and promptly joined.
"Our primary role is that we manage and maintain the trail through a volunteer-based network," ATC spokesman Brian King said. For thru-hikers, said King, there is a visitors center at conference headquarters in Harper's Ferry, W.Va., (through which the trail passes). "Hikers can get pictures taken, giving us faces with register entries," he said.
"The hikers help us with a grapevine, and we help the grapevine by clearing out things that aren't true," he added.
It was through the Appalachian Trail Conference that I found my hiking partner.
Next it was time to stock up on supplies. I went through a mail-order catalog catering to campers and ordered everything I could possibly need, down to new socks. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right, I thought to myself. I even bought a pack for Ruby, so she could carry her own food.
Whenever I'd go grocery shopping, I'd throw in an extra box of instant oatmeal or dried pasta to stock away for later use.
I had an impressive heap of 12 bags - 300 pounds - of dog food. Fifteen boxes of instant oatmeal, about 100 candy bars, dried milk, dehydrated potatoes, 26 trial-size tubes of toothpaste, another 26 travel size wet-wipes.
All of these supplies - and much more - went into boxes to be mailed to me along the way. Most thru-hikers average 10 to 25 mail drops, picking them up at post offices along the trail. I have 14 mail drops, which my mother agreed to mail to me, promising to stash small surprises in the boxes every now and then.
Mental and practical preparations aside, I needed to concentrate on the physical aspect of hiking the trail. The human body simply is not designed to carry heavy weights for extended periods of time. Even though I stay active hiking, running and playing volleyball, I knew that no matter how much training I did, there is a certain amount of physical conditioning that can only be gained on the trail.
They call it "trail-hardened," after the blisters on your feet have become tough, leathery callouses; the rash around your waist belt is sore, but commonplace; and your aching shoulders have become a cluster of sinewy muscles and tendons.
I went for several day hikes, mainly to test the strength of an ailing knee. My last hike before leaving - a "shakedown," in which I carried a pack filled to the brim - was a 12-mile segment of the Appalachian Trail from Tinker Cliffs to Virginia 311. The approach trail to the cliffs, called the Andy Layne trail, recently was dedicated to a member of the Roanoke Appalachian Trail Club who died in 1991. Like the ATC, the Roanoke Appalachian Trail Club counts on volunteers such as Layne to help maintain its 113-mile section of the trail.
I watched my brother, Tom, hike ahead of me. He, too, considered this shakedown a test because he plans to hike with me and my partner for the first three days.
"That's a steep climb," Tom said, as I huffed and puffed up next to him upon reaching Scorched Earth Gap.
"Yeah, it is," I said. I smiled, knowing that this is the life to which I will grow accustomed.
The months and months of planning are over. The anticipation - like a child awaiting Christmas morning - is finally at its culmination. It is Christmas Eve for me and Christmas morning will last for six months from Springer Mountain, Ga., to Mount Katahdin, Maine.