In 1986, a few days after running the Boston Marathon, and following a year of touring the US and Canada in a campervan, I set off by train to realise a dream to walk the Appalachian Trail. I first heard about the Trail from the American wife of a work colleague in Melbourne a few years earlier and had since read widely about the trail. The Trail follows the crest of the Appalachian Mountains for more than 2,200 miles along the eastern side of the US. Starting in mid-spring, I followed the trail northwards from Springer Mountain in Georgia to its northern terminus at Mount Katahdin in Maine, finishing in the late summer. It remains one of the most meaningful experiences of my life, fostering an ambition for more such experiences and inspiring me to retire from work early enough follow through on that ambition. In 1986, only about 80 people each year completed the whole trail, but during that year National Geographic did a feature article on the Trail and its popularity increased dramatically.

Appalachian Trail - Day 013

Day:  013
Date:  Thursday, 15 May 1986
Daily AT Miles:  20.4
Daily Other Miles:  0.3 (returning to better campsite)
Total AT Miles:  239.5
Total All Miles:  250.0
Weather:  Foggy at first then mostly sunny and warm.
Nutrition:
  Breakfast:  Muesli, health drink.
  Lunch:  Biscuits and peanut butter, health bar.
  Dinner:  Macaroni cheese, instant pudding.
Aches:  Feet sore from long descent.
Animals Seen:
People Seen:  Two AT Thru-Hikers, four overnight hikers, two day hikers, one ranger, six others.

Journal:
Got up at 6:30am on a quiet and dull foggy morning and packed as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the others.  Most were up by the time I left at 7:50am.  The Trail was damp but I soon emerged from the fog and began to get good views from the graded trail which was mostly descending.  The lower I got the warmer and sunnier it became.  There were good views when the Trail wound around precipices.  I met a National Parks ranger who gave me a hard time about not having a permit initially, but softened later.  I reached Davenport Gap, the northern limit of The Great Smoky Mountains National Park, at about 2:30pm and crossed into National Forests land.  I spent many moments of the day imagining where Barb was in her flight and and wondering if she was excited or depressed.  By my reckoning she would arrive in Sydney about 5pm, my time, and in Melbourne at 9pm.  These thoughts, the realisation of how far I had to go despite my big miles, and leaving the Smoky’s for less spectacular country made me a little depressed and despondent, but none-the-less resolved.  I decided to get to the town of Hot Springs at Saturday lunchtime and stay in a motel that night for a break.  Should be good – if the motel’s open.  There was a particularly hard slog uphill from Davenport Gap (1975ft) until I reached a pleasant campsite on Painter Branch Creek.  I walked about 300 yards past it looking for a second site before returning to camp.  Stopped at 5pm which was good and gave me time to potter around and boil water for tomorrow, though the creek was probably OK.  Slept in my tent (20% chance of rain).  Went to bed at 9:15pm.  Barb should be in Melbourne.
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