(Drawing courtesy of "Sean ") 

Synopsis,  Introduction and Methodology. 

What compels thousands of otherwise sane persons to attempt to hike more than 2,000 miles up and down the spine of the Appalachian Mountains each year? Discover the candid thoughts and the backgrounds of hundreds of backpackers of all ages who have walked over 1,000 miles on the Appalachian Trail (AT) to reach Duncannon, Pennsylvania. Regardless if they sprang in early spring from Springer Mountain in Georgia or departed later from the northern terminus on Mount Katahdin in Maine, a continuous stream of hikers traverses Duncannon from mid-May through September.

Thru-hikers are a diverse lot with strong convictions regarding anything associated with the Appalachian Trail. They span several generations coming from all walks of life. A surprising number of hikers are female. Many hikers hail from other countries. What motivates thru-hikers to continue plodding onward each morning? How did they get so crazy? Why do over eighty percent drop out? Why do some go southbound? Hear their advice to new hikers and trek with them as they relive their best and worst days. Follow encounters with bear, moose, rattlesnakes and other critters. Discover trail magic and trail angels.  

Learn trailspeak and gain insights into backpacking gear. Why do some disdain trekking poles? Why do others eschew shelters for tenting or hammocks? What drives the majority to hike from shelter to shelter while mavericks avoid shelters? Do their pet peeves coincide? Why do some bring their pets on the AT? Is it better to emulate the sanitation of the bear and squat, or to mount a primitive privy? 

How do hikers obtain those strange, often-descriptive badges of identity, special appellations, called trailnames? Be initiated into the world of trailnames that promote ease of bonding with strangers while simultaneously protecting cherished privacy. How much do hikers spend and sacrifice financially to do the AT? On a more basic level, how do hikers obtain water? What do hikers eat? On the lighter side, explore hiker aphorisms and humor. Learn how the trail affects and changes hikers.

Hikers tend to be highly educated, a fact they studiously conceal from fellow hikers and townies. Modesty comes naturally when life is reduced to the basics on the AT. Educational and occupational credentials of the usually scraggly, odoriferous hikers are exposed in Tales of the Trail – It’s a Trip: Appalachian Trail Hikers, Interviews with the Class of 2002.  Tales of the Trail chronicles conversations with 360 hikers as they relax in the old AT trailtown of Duncannon.  

 (Sign is located across the Juniata and Susquehanna Rivers  from Duncannon, Pa.)

Introduction and Methodology.

The stranger strides into The Pub, takes a seat on the opposite side of the bar and orders a lager. Casually dressed, he’s a close fit with the local clientèle. Wearing a full dark beard and hair that is gently graying on the edges, he looks fit and fifty-ish.
“Trail book,” I whisper to Garry, the Executive Chef seated at his customary stool next to the break by the bartop and take-out cooler. Without a word, Garry takes a few steps and hands the gentleman the Pub’s hiker register. The stranger glances at a page or two, looks up smiling and demands, “How did you know?”
“Trail presence.”
Skip laughs. “I last walked this trail almost 30 years ago.”

Skip, a Fine Arts professor from Rochester, is driving south to visit his mother and remembers passing through Duncannon, Pennsylvania, nestled along the hills of the west shore of the Susquehanna River. That first visit was on foot about three decades ago as a northbound or NOBO thru-hiker. Once an AT (Appalachian Trail) thru-hiker, the AT calls you back even if it is just for a brief stop in an old trail town. Skip is due a sabbatical in a couple years and plans to repeat his AT trek taking a digital camera and photographing the esoterica that comes naturally to Fine Arts people. Picture a fresh footstep in the early morning dew or moss. 

Duncannon in central Pennsylvania isn’t precisely the halfway point on the 2,168.8-mile AT, but it is close enough to know the hikers are genuine whether they are south or northbound. The route and length of the AT have changed over the years. At one time the mid-point of the AT was situated on High Street between Plum Street and Broadway Avenue. The AT then measured just 2,050 miles.

Collectively, the hikers, as they are dispassionately known to townsfolk, are the most diverse and interesting group that anyone would ever want to share brews and views. The idea to interview this slightly deranged group of plodders, one endless plodding step after another, came last summer. The AT attracts hearty hikers from abroad and a surprising number of thru-hikers, close to thirty percent, are female. The stimulus for this book was the enjoyable chats with the hikers over the years in Duncannon.

Why anyone would voluntarily attempt a masochistic march from Georgia to Maine, or vice-versa, without a gun pointed at them escapes sedentary logic. The quarry came to the lazy author lying in wait in The Pub or the legendary Doyle Hotel. The AT hikers eventually confessed what possessed them to take that first step. Many deflected the query with humor to pause a few seconds before disclosing how they did get so crazy. Several thousand hardy, or maybe foolhardy souls, attempt a thru-hike each year, but only several hundred finish. Three to four million people use the trail each year, according to the Appalachian Trail Conference, if weekenders and day hikers are included.

The discovery process for the interviews is unscientific and certainly skewed. An unknown percentage of the hiking specimens do not indulge and the interviewer spent many an hour, and many happy hours, holding court in two taverns. To somewhat rectify this methodological flaw other venues were explored. Hikers were everywhere in Duncannon like ants on honey - the Laundromat, the post office, the church library with the Internet connection, Jodi’s diner, the balcony and the hallways of the Doyle Hotel and the pizza parlors. Although actual names were often volunteered, trailnames, the flamboyant, descriptive handles, are employed throughout. Trailnames are nicknames and enhance hiker anonymity. Trailnames providentially promote ease of bonding with strangers and simultaneously protect privacy.

So much for methodology – sip beer,  watch for hikers, talk to hikers, scribble notes and snap photographs. No standardized questionnaire was used although almost all hikers were asked several common questions. Next morning, process the digital pictures and email them to the hikers’ families and friends. Pound on the keyboard attempting to decipher and convert hasty notes into the original dialogue. Initially, I often declined to inquire about professional or educational backgrounds and that personal information was rarely volunteered. Obtaining that intelligence might require belated but persistent questioning about ten or fifteen minutes into the chat. A cold lager or two leveraged some advantage, too. The hikers’ often-reluctant responses about their pedigrees and degrees emerge in the interviews as clean quotes. They rarely were. Hikers shed those trappings of society when they stepped onto the trail. Sedentary Steve, the author’s trailname, was rudely exposing the suppressed baggage that is not needed on the trail. However, all the hikers enjoyed seeing who preceded them into Duncannon, and reading comments memorialized in the growing hiker photo books maintained at the Doyle and the Pub.

Finally, many hikers cannot afford the five or six months to do a fast paced thru-hike. Instead, they do “sections” of the trail and pick up at a later date where they left off. Most of the sectional hikers devote several weeks or months at a time on the AT. The section hikers also rate my respect – and admiration, but not emulation. Early in the season, there are more sectional hikers passing through Duncannon than thru-hikers. To reach Duncannon by April or May, a thru-hiker leaving Springer Mountain in Georgia would have to set a fast pace or depart earlier in colder winter weather. Most southbounders cannot leave Katahdin in Maine until the Baxter State Park opens on May 15 or later. To traverse the AT takes a dedicated, single-minded masochist about five to seven months.

 NOTE: To find the date a hiker was interviewed  click on Appendix A: Trailname Index and then click on the appropriate chapter or section of the Table of Contents.

 TIP: If your browser has a FIND feature (i.e., in FireFox, Edit > Find in this Page), it will help you quickly locate  a specific trailname, place and other desired info.

HIKER PHOTOS: Any hiker who would rather have his or her photo removed, please contact Sedentary Steve. No hassle. Remember to edit the pop up address  for Sedentary Steve that is altered in an attempt to foil the spam webcrawling robots.

(Duncannon looking north from Hawk Rock. Credit Melissa Fehr)

(White Blaze south of Duncannon)

(Zooming down to Duncannon from HawkRock. 

Can you spot the Doyle?)

(Unique view of Doyle Hotel - Hiker Central)

(Hiker repacking area - a Boy Scout Project)

(Typical "Trail Magic" dinner at TrailAngel Mary's patio)

(Duncannon Hiker Info Sign)

Next - May 2002 - Before the Rush