Appalachian Trail: Vision v. Reality

Meet Benton Mackaye: conservationist, forester, visionary. In 1921 he published An Appalachian Trail: A Project in Regional Planning setting his dream in motion for a long distance hiking trail to connect self-sustaining woodland communities along the Appalachian ridge.

“The project is one for a series of recreational communities throughout the Appalachian chain of mountains from New England to Georgia, these to be connected by a walking Trail,” wrote Mackaye.

Fun fact: the original vision for the A.T. was not primarily as a hiking trail but a wilderness retreat, a retreat Mackaye saw as solving problems of over-population, pollution, and even mental health.

Enter Myron Avery: lawyer, hiker, native Mainer. He was the “get up and go” behind the Appalachian Trail dream, but his vision was slightly different. He had little use for Mackaye’s recreational communities and set about carving a simple, long-distance hiking trail along the Appalachian spine.

Avery and Mackaye’s difference of opinion eventually led to a falling out that left Avery personally responsible for most of the trail’s physical construction. He extended the length to over 2,000 miles, negotiated permits, organized crews and founded maintenance clubs until, less than seven years later, the trail was complete.  When the final trail marker was posted proclaiming Katahdin the northern terminus of the A.T., Avery dedicated it with a simple, “Nail it up.”

And then there’s me.

My vision for the Appalachian Trail is somewhere between the ideals of Mackaye and Avery. I want to have an adventure, and clear my mind. I want to feel my legs and shoulders growing strong and sore while I push up mountains. But I also want the peace of listening to rain and chirping insects from my sleeping bag, a relaxation only reached through exhaustion.

The trail is my adventure of transition, finishing my undergraduate degree, leaving my job, moving away from the state I’ve called home for 23 years; it fills the space between what my life has been for the last three years, and what it will be in the future.

Most importantly, it’s a deeply personal adventure. I will take from the trail what I put into it, along with whatever surprises it chooses to gift me; it’s true of everyone who decides to hike the A.T., no matter how far or for how long. Every hiker approaches the experience with their own expectations and dreams, and is satisfied, or not, in a hundred different ways 

Mackaye and Avery created a trail that in reality is a different experience than either one envisioned, but that’s the beauty of it. They dreamed up and built over 2,000 miles of wilderness trail; every year it calls to a few thousand intrepid souls: come build your own adventure.  

Population Control on the A.T.

The Appalachian Trail Conservancy Association (ATCA) introduced voluntary self-registration for the Appalachian Trail this year to try and relax the toll of overcrowding. Overcrowding has only negative consequences on the trail: shelters are crammed, vegetation gets trampled, and, to put it plainly, there’s just aren’t enough spots to poop.

Between March 1 and April 1 as many as 50 hikers set out each day from Springer Mt. in Georgia. Although the ATCA is hoping to avoid the crowded, party-like atmosphere this can create, they are more concerned by the fact that the trail simply isn’t designed to support such a concentration of hikers.

Given the popularity of the 2015 long distance hiking film “Wild”, the ATCA is anticipating even more problems of overcrowding. Enter self-registration. Registering on the ATCAs website allows prospective hikers to anticipate crowded start dates and adjust accordingly. Bonus: hikers who register also get a sweet little tag with the A.T. logo and the 7 Leave No Trace principles.

So I registered our hike last week: May 12, Springer Mountain, baby! To me, it makes perfect sense. Nobody wants regulations or, heaven forbid, a trail cap and nobody wants overcrowding, this provides a solution.

We’re starting our hike in mid-May because it’s the week after I finish school, but the lucky fact-of-the-matter is that it’s necessary for the well-being of a beloved trail. I hope to be one of many hikers inaugurating this shiny, new system. 

Challenged to Leave No Trace

“Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints”

The mantra of Leave No Trace, an outdoor ethics program, reflects their ideal of maintaining nature as a resource to be responsibly enjoyed by anyone. Leave No Trace works to raise awareness of the huge impact humans, and their garbage, can have on fragile eco-systems.

L.N.T. principles are a daily part of life on the Appalachian Trail. Hikers answer only to themselves along many portions of the trail, even those maintained by national park rangers. When hikers abuse this responsibility by ignorance or disregard, they threaten the beauty and the eco-systems unique to Appalachia. 

Their biggest enemy? Ignorance. 

Many people simply don’t know the effects that even biodegradable waste can have on plants and animals. Apple cores and orange peels tossed alongside the trail aren’t just eye-sores for fellow hikers. They draw animals to the trail, making them more comfortable with humans and upsetting their natural feeding patterns, consequences that threaten their health and safety.

With how damaging these items can be, imagine the result of a few thousand candy bar wrappers tossed into the woods every day.

When hikers dispose of waste properly, respect wildlife and consider other visitors they upgrade not only their experiences but the experiences of others. Acting otherwise isn’t just selfish, it’s irresponsible. 

Although not many people dream of walking through woods packing a bag of trash and food waste, no one dreams of walking through woods filled with garbage