S A RETIRED THRU-HIKER, I do have some strong feelings about the Appalachian Trail. First, since the Appalachian Trail is now officially designated a National Scenic Trail, it belongs in spirit, if not in fact, to all the people of the United States, not just to a small group of Trail club members. Second, despite its deficiencies, it proves to be the most popular trail -- I suspect because many people come to sample the magic only the famous 2,000-mile foot trail can offer.
We all come to explore the Appalachians, their peaks and ridges, their intervales and hollows, possibly to spot a golden eagle or a spruce grouse, or to spot a moose or black bear.
I found the Trail to be like a quaint little red schoolhouse without walls -- one whose wonders never cease. It’s the quiet wonders that suck you back, the taste of ripe huckleberries, the first lonely flower of spring, the fragrant smell of balsam, and the long rows of old stone fences.
These wonders occur in the most unexpected and unremarkable localities; yet far too many volunteer Trail routers, due to their immaturity and insensitivity, have failed to improve the Trail route with the passing years, allowing much of the Trail within their control to continue along mountain ridge crests, tediously ascending straight up nearly every local peak and molehill. Much of this sad routing, sometimes over the roughest available footway with a smooth alternative only a hundred feet to the side, I suspect is done in the name of a view, or was planned by some local hiking jock seeking pleasure in the tough physical effort required to make it to the top. The peaceful valleys, the tumbling brooks, the quiet glens are all cast aside for the more “spectacular.”
I have nothing against peaks, but enough is enough. It can be fun looking up, too! Each national forest, national park, state park, or other distinctive region (or “enclave,” I call it, for lack of a better word), has a characteristic look or flavor about itself. In the southern Appalachians, and to a limited extent in the Green Mountains, Vermont, and in New Hampshire intermountain enclaves, skilled workers have pieced together remarkable lengths of pleasant foot trail that passes through nearly every type of area suitable for hiking. These enclaves were a joy to walk, giving me great pleasure and an inner confidence that I had seen all the significant features characteristic of that enclave.
I wish I had this confidence about other enclaves I traversed, many times with undue physical strain. Our Appalachian Trail deserves the best, most varied, and interesting routing possible. All the skills needed for better trail routing are available. All it requires is that we demand it.
(From: “Appalachian Odyssey” by Steve Sherman and Julia Older; The Stephen Greene Press, Brattleboro, Vermont, 1977. Reprinted by permission of the author.)
