Perseverance: An Alaskan’s 2,000 mile journey on the Appalachian Trail

Monson

CHAPTER 1

Georgia

The only impossible journey is the one you never begin.

—Anthony Robbins

My wife, Penny, would burst out laughing night after night as she read this particular book in bed before going to sleep. I would ask her what was so funny, and when she could finally talk, she would read me a couple of lines and start laughing again. She was reading A Walk in the Woods, a book by Bill Bryson about his hiking experiences on the Appalachian Trail. I am always game for a laugh, so I decided that when she finished the book, I would give it a go.

After completing the book, Bryson somehow, through his humor, had me believing that the fun I had reading his book would translate to having as much fun hiking the trail. My desire to hike the Appalachian Trail (AT) increased, and eventually I became obsessed about it. Bryson had put a spell on me. You might say I was a little naive, not realizing at the time that I had picked one of the most difficult long-distance hiking trails in the world for my first long-distance hike. Little did I know.

Since we were both retired, I suggested to Penny that we should hike the Appalachian Trail together. She said yes, but I started realizing she wasn’t as serious about it as I was. After weeks of pondering and wondering if I should really attempt this adventure, I decided that at my age, if I did not make a move soon, it may be too late in a few years. Penny responded with mixed emotions. I often talked about doing things without ever following through. She kind of believed that this monumental adventure was just a pipe dream of mine.

The next few months I started training by hiking around the hills of Anchorage. In the evenings, I found myself checking out hikers’ blogs who had hiked the AT. Some hikers had provided videos online displaying all their gear. I started making weekly trips to REI, checking out sleeping bags, hiking shoes, tents, and asking lots of questions.

One day I came home from REI with a backpack weighing five pounds, big enough to hold 50 pounds of gear. I think REI wants customers to buy a large backpack so they can buy more of their stuff to fill it up. Penny was a little bit exasperated when I told her the Price. She had not really given me her blessings about what I was planning. After several weeks, she started to realize that this nonsense of mine might actually become a reality. I think she thought my life might be in danger and started taking more interest and offering me advice from her many winter camping experiences.

I have always been kind of a tight wad with money and was always looking for a bargain. I started accumulating a bunch of discounted gear, not really paying attention to how much each item weighed. One of the bargains was a tent that I found for just $59. I came home and started setting it up in the living room. There were no instructions. Penny sat there on the couch, shaking her head as I struggled to figure out how everything went together. She watched with interest and showed great patience, allowing me to figure it out myself. Finally I finished, climbed in, and laid down. I was glad she had not videoed the first setup.

After accumulating an enormous amount of gear, I loaded and reloaded my backpack at least a dozen times. To be honest, this was a huge unknown to this 70 -year-old novice hiker. It was all a little overwhelming to think about. I started to get more than a little nervous as my departure time grew close. Hiking solo only increased my anxiety. I could hardly sleep at night. I tried to act calm around my wife, but she was obviously not being fooled.

Before I could have a nervous breakdown, I soon decided to head to Georgia the end of February 2015. My wife and kids immediately objected. They repeated to me many times, Why go so early? I immediately reminded them that Georgia was a lot warmer than Anchorage, Alaska, this time of year. I made my flight and lodging arrangements.

On February 25, 2015, I flew on Alaska Airlines from Anchorage to Atlanta. I was relieved to find my backpack at the baggage area. After grabbing it, I hustled over to the MARTA train station, which was conveniently located next to the baggage claim area. I took the train through Atlanta and then on to the farthest North Terminal.

Hiker Hostel was owned by Josh and Leigh Saint, who were former AT thru-hikers. They picked hikers up at this station and transported them to their hostel in Dahlonega, Georgia. Josh was soon there to pick me up and, during the hour drive, showed great patience answering many of my questions, which I am sure he had answered a thousand times before. After arriving, I found 20 hikers already settled in for the night. The hostel was well kept, and house rules required lights out at 10:30 p.m.

The next morning, the hosts served a hearty buffet breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, oatmeal, toast, juice, and coffee. We were all excited but also a little nervous about the trek we had all committed to. After packing up, the three vans started shuttling hikers to four different trailheads. There were six of us, all solo hikers, who were shuttled to the base of Springer Mountain. Most thru-hikers come to the trail as solo hikers. I was told that after a few weeks, a hiker usually finds someone who hikes their pace and end up spending many days and nights hiking and camping together.

It was a good 30-minute drive up a narrow twisting dirt road that got us within a mile of the top of Springer Mountain, the official starting point of the Appalachian Trail. As we ascended the road, I wasn’t having a panic attack, but it was close. I tried to calm myself by imagining that the six of us were on this mission together.

Soon we arrived at the trailhead parking lot and climbed out of the van and put on our backpacks. The driver took some pictures of us together and wished us all a safe journey. As we started climbing, the anxiety disappeared, and the hike became fun.

At mile zero, we were experiencing much excitement and anticipation for trail ahead.

We reached the top in about 30 minutes to find a large boulder in the woods with a plate on it that indicated the starting point of our great adventure. At this point, all of us took our packs off and started taking pictures, which seemed to be a spontaneous reaction for everyone. It was exciting, and we were all pumped up by the significance of the moment.

After about 15 minutes, we swung our backpacks on and began our descent. The temperature was about 35 degrees as we hiked down the trail under cloudy skies. We took several breaks together that day, and all but one of the group, hiked a total of nine miles to Hawk Mountain Shelter for the night.

Unfortunately, Mingle, one of the hikers in our group, had to be rescued six miles into the hike due to dizziness. He had been struggling up the mountains and out of breath all day. Two miles before the shelter, he could not go any further. Two hikers in our group helped him into his sleeping bag and called for help. The rescue team came up another nearby trail in a four-wheel-drive rescue vehicle and transported him to a hospital. Two days later, we were informed and relieved that he was just out of shape and had been released after a night’s stay in the hospital. This reminded me of Josh at Hiker Hostel telling me that 20 percent of thru-hikers quit after the first 30 miles. Those hikers were usually inexperienced and had not trained properly for the demands this trail requires.

I set up my tent next to the Hawk Mountain Shelter and laid out my pad, sleeping bag, and supplies inside the tent. I took my stove and food bag and went over to the three-sided shelter and cooked a Mountain House beef stew dinner. There were seven hikers tenting and three others planning to sleep in the shelter. The temperature dropped, and it started snowing. I exclaimed to myself, Are you kidding me? This is Georgia.

As darkness descended on us, I crawled into my tent and put on my warmest clothes. I slipped into my sleeping bag, pulling it up over my head. It was so cold that I did not dare fall asleep, thinking I might freeze to death. I wiggled my toes, tried curling into the embryo position, but ended up tossing and turning all night. Finally around 7:00 a.m., I crawled out of my sleeping bag and put on my warmest hiking clothes. After putting on my shoes, I climbed out of the tent to find ten inches of snow on the ground. I asked myself, What have I got myself into?

I broke a path 100 yards through the deep snow down to the water source to fill my water bottle. By the time I got back, the three hikers who had slept in the shelter were slowly climbing out of their sleeping bags. One asked me if it was warmer sleeping in my tent than in the shelter. I told him I shivered and shook all night long but thought it might have been warmer in the shelter, as I heard a lot of snoring from there.

I got my stove going on the shelter floor to boil some water for oatmeal. I kept moving around to stay warm. The hot oatmeal helped to slow my shivering. Next, I was introduced to the process of thawing my frozen metal tent poles with my bare hands so I could fold them up. As my tent collapsed onto the snow, I realized I still had some gear inside my tent. Without filling my backpack with too much snow, I was able to get the rest of my gear out of the tent and into my pack. It took me two hours to break camp and pack up. I was totally out of my comfort zone.

Three hikers had already left about 20 minutes before my departure. After slowly following their tracks through the heavy wet snow for about three miles, I saw them ahead breaking trail up the steep Sassafras Mountain. I eventually caught up to them as they were taking a break. I decided it was my turn to break trail.

For the next four miles, I struggled carrying my 40-pound pack up the mountains and through the deep snow. A young married couple from Virginia caught up with me as we climbed Justus Mountain. They were in good spirits and glad to take a turn breaking trail the last two miles into Gooch Mountain Shelter.

Shortly after I arrived there, hikers started arriving one by one. We tried to get a fire going right in front of the shelter, but it was a meager one, since it was virtually impossible to find any wood under the ten inches of snow. Eventually a total of eight hikers arrived before nightfall. Knowing that heat rises, I decided to climb up and sleep on the upper deck of the shelter. Four hikers stayed in the lower deck, and I was hoping the body heat from below would make the upper deck a little warmer. Wishful thinking.

I put two pair of dry socks on along with my warmest clothes and crawled into my 30-degree sleeping bag. The temperature was in the mid-20s, and I again tossed and turned all night to stay warm. I was a little scared of my predicament, but felt some comfort in the fact that I was with hikers in the same quandary.

The next day, I was up at daybreak. It was a struggle to put on my frozen shoes. I again cooked oatmeal, and since I didn’t have to pack up my tent, it only took me an hour and a half to hit the trail. The goal was to hike 12 miles to Woods Hole Shelter. It was a bit easier hike through the snow, since the trail had been broken in by the previous day’s hikers. I arrived just before it got dark to find only three hikers already in their sleeping bags for the night. After cooking, I put on my last two pair of dry socks and my warmest clothes again. I elected to stay in the shelter and was in my sleeping bag by 8:00 p.m.

The next morning, I was up at daybreak and anxious to get to Mountain Crossings Hostel, only four miles away. I ate a protein bar for breakfast and was soon hiking. My thermometer, attached to my backpack, showed it was 20 degrees. The chill factor was much lower because the freezing wind was brutal. I had to keep moving to stay warm. At the top of Blood Mountain, Zack, a hiker with whom I had camped the past two nights, caught up with me. After a short break, we carefully maneuvered over some very slippery ledges, coming down the 1500-foot decent. The hostel, one of the oldest on the AT, was a welcome site. I registered for a night’s stay, took a hot shower, did laundry, and quenched my thirst with several soda pops. The complex had a well-stocked outfitter store. Someone was thoughtfully cooking hot dogs outside for hikers. Zack and I each devoured at least six of them. Since I had not slept well the past three nights, I decided to take a nap in the nice warm bunkhouse.

After about two hours in the comfort of my sleeping bag, my