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 102

Day:  102
Date:  Tuesday, 12 August 1986
Daily AT Miles:  12.9
Daily Other Miles:  0.5
Total AT Miles:  1957.4
Total All Miles:  2014.4
Weather:  Sunny, mild, windy.
Nutrition:
  Breakfast:  Muesli.
  Lunch:  Tuna sub, ice-cream.
  Dinner:  Chicken, salad, ice-cream.
Aches:  Bruised thigh and elbow from fall.
Animals Seen:  Grouse.
People Seen:  5 day hikers, many others.

Journal:
We got up at 5am in order to reach ME 27 and John’s father by 1pm.  We did not have a good night because of the tossing and turning of the three boys in the shelter which rocked its flimsy floor.  At one point, John said loudly “for crying out loud!”.  I think they got the message.  After a hurried breakfast and packing we left at 6:15am and returned to the new AT via the very rough side-trail then began our ascent of Spaulding Mountain.  It was a crisp clear morning – a good day for hiking.  Near the summit, we took a short side-trail to the peak and enjoyed some good views.  From there we pressed on north-east past the side-trail to Sugarloaf Mountain where John was tempted to detour to capture another 4000’ mountain.  We then descended gradually, then steeply, to the south branch of the Carrabasset River.  On the way down, I slipped twice in quick succession breaking my watch strap the first time, and suffering some grazes and a bad thigh bruise the second.  More care required.  We had a short break a bit past the river and adjacent road before making the solid ascent of the twin-peaked Crocker Mountain. We made good time and got some good views on the way up and from the north peak where we had our second break.  We left there at 11am, leaving us two hours, for the remaining five miles.  We hoped to arrive exactly on time but, despite reasonable going, arrived at 1:10pm.  We found John’s dad waiting for us as arranged and they drove me the five miles into Stratton and Widow’s Walk, an historic bed and breakfast place.  We said our goodbyes and they headed for Boston.  No-one was around, but notices invited me to sign in and select a room, which I did.  After a shower, I walked up the street of the pretty town, put my laundry on and bought a sub and milkshake for lunch.  I sent off a card to Vic, a mutual friend, as suggested by John, then collected the laundry and did my shopping before returning to the B&B, registering and writing a letter to Barb.  I went to a nearby pub for dinner, then returned to the B&B, repacked my food and went down to the lounge for a while.  Hosts, Jerry and Mary, lent me a set of pliers with which I repaired my watch band.  At 9:30pm I returned to my room and listened to the radio while looking at my maps, planning my final days and writing up my diary.  A call to Marj in Boston to determine if my air-ticket had arrived was not successful, so I decided to leave ringing Barb till Monson, by which time I might know for sure.
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