The Appalachian Trail will change your life, but maybe no single mile of it will. Unlike its great western counterparts along the Pacific Crest or the Continental Divide, the United States鈥� most iconic footpath is subtle鈥攁 green tunnel through some of the oldest and most graceful mountains in the world, not some sizzle reel of endless panoramas. You can stand atop a 14er or a high Sierra pass and instantly feel altered; the AT takes time to shape you over miles, months, years.

While it鈥檚 hard to pick a birthday for the trail, which Benton MacKaye proposed in 1921 but wasn鈥檛 completed until 1937, you could reasonably say the founding of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) in 1925 was when the AT became what it is. While the ATC has had its fair share of controversy, no other individual or organization has ever done more to protect and promote the trail鈥檚 2,197.4 miles and the land around it. At a time when federal resources for public lands are in the air at best, the ATC continues its century-long mission to safeguard the trail, from volunteers they lead on crucial maintenance missions to their audacious .

In that spirit, two of us who have had our lives changed by the Appalachian Trail鈥�Backpacker writers and 鈥攈ave selected our 鈥渂est鈥� 100 miles of the Appalachian Trail. (Fine, it鈥檚 103.8, but more trail is better than less.) All these mileage markers represent a northbound hike and are subject to change, like the trail itself.

We debated these picks, arguing about their accessibility, their beauty, the way they loom large in our memory. Underneath it all, we were discussing the ways certain bits of land strung together by white blazes had changed us. Not everyone has the opportunity to thru-hike, but there鈥檚 a chance, that these 19 chunks of trail, from a 14-mile roller coaster in Virginia to the climb up Katahdin in Maine, can still change you, anyway.

Prologue: The Arch to The Stairs, Georgia

Though the Appalachian Trail officially begins on Springer Mountain before heading (at least at the moment) 2,197.4 miles to Maine, you should begin at , beneath a simple stone arch. This is the 8.5-mile Appalachian Trail Approach, infamous for being debated by thru-hikers for its value and the 600-plus stairs to the top of the falls, which are as entertaining and challenging as almost anything on the actual Appalachian Trail. Legend has it that would-be thru-hikers have jettisoned their entire kits while climbing those stairs, returning to the parents still waiting below. And you will stun a dozen tourists when they ask you where you鈥檙e going and you simply answer 鈥淢aine!鈥� The falls, it should be said, are beautiful; pose for a photo, and keep grunting up that hill. 鈥擥贬颁

Blood Mountain to Neel Gap, Georgia (3.2 Miles: 28.1-31.3)

Blood Mountain is one of the first landmarks for northbound AT hikers. It鈥檚 also the highest peak on the Georgia section, the sixth highest in the state. But it鈥檚 best known for another reason: ghosts. Some hikers point to the peak鈥檚 history as a battleground between the Cherokee and the Muscogee people as the origin of the stories. Others point to , who went missing in 2008 on the mountain, to explain its shelter鈥檚 eeriness. The trail log is often full of stories about strange occurrences from those who are brave enough to stay the night. 鈥拟叠厂

Rocky Top and Thunderhead Mountain to Beechnut Gap, North Carolina/Tennessee (2.8 Miles: 184鈥�186.8)

The 72-mile path that the AT takes through Great Smoky Mountains National Park could have commandeered nearly three-quarters of this list, but that would be a copout. Still, less than 200 miles into a northbound journey, the Smokies offer a quick study on how the trail will push you around (if you take four days to hike the Smokies, the adage goes, you will encounter four seasons) and how stunning the whole thing will be. I love the wide-open views from Rocky Top and Thunderhead, plus how quickly you exit and reenter tree line. (There are some century-old names carved into rocks along the trail, too, predating the park itself.) And I have a distinct memory of being battered by wind so much that these mountains, as low-slung and ancient as they are, reasserted their power. 鈥擥贬颁

Max Patch Road to Lemon Gap, North Carolina (6.2 Miles: 254.6鈥�260.8)

Before and after my first AT thru-hike, I lived in a cabin a few ridges over from Max Patch, one of those scattered through the South. They can be so idyllic you will feel like you鈥檙e in a beautiful dream. It was essentially my backyard, so I鈥檝e hiked to, on, and around the iconic spot maybe more than anywhere else. Still, I鈥檇 accept an invitation right now. A panopticon of Appalachian grace, it offers views of multiple states, distant ridgelines, and several river drainages. And the northbound descent down its gentle slopes and across multiple creeks into Lemon Gap exemplifies the woods of the region鈥攚ildflowers sprouting through the damp forest floor in spring, a look at the bones of some of the world鈥檚 oldest mountains with fall鈥檚 arrival. 鈥擥贬颁

Views of the Nolichucky River to Beauty Spot, Tennessee/North Carolina (11.7 Miles: 343.5鈥�355.2)

Talk to a veteran AT hiker, and chances are you鈥檒l get a strong opinion about the green tunnel, or the prevailing sense that you鈥檙e mostly navigating 2,200 miles of tree cover from Georgia to Maine. They鈥檒l say it鈥檚 boring or it鈥檚 beautiful. I say it鈥檚 both, and the moments when it breaks affirm that. As you head into Erwin, Tenn., the trees split onto postcard-worthy shots of the Nolichucky River鈥檚 gorge far below. And after you cross the river (post-Tropical Storm Helene, you鈥檒l do it ), you鈥檒l steadily ascend a series of gaps and ridges, views offered by powerline clearings and natural overlooks alike. Just shy of 4,500 feet, you鈥檒l reach Beauty Spot, a mountaintop meadow ringed by little trees, so picturesque you may be tempted to make it your permanent address. I first encountered Beauty Spot after getting off trail for a funeral; it was the sight that galvanized my northward quest. 鈥擥贬颁

Cloudland Hotel on Roan Mountain to Little Hump Mountain, Tennessee/North Carolina (9.3 Miles: 378.7鈥�388.0)

I have always struggled with the obvious question: What is your favorite part of the Appalachian Trail? No one ever accepts 鈥渁ll of it,鈥� so I soon launch into a list that feels just shy of 鈥渁ll of it.鈥� But if my life depended on recommending one stretch, this right here is the one: From the top of rhododendron-crowned Roan Mountain, where remnants of the grand remain, you drop into a seesaw of dips and dives, the rugged old trail carved across the faces of some of the oldest mountains in the world. You cross three balds in a little more than a mile, drop way down, and then climb Little Hump Mountain. (The section misses some charm now since the loss of the fabled , but it still goes.) I stupidly camped on its flanks once during a strong storm, and weathering that felt like preparation for future, bigger adventures. The next morning, the sky was all cotton candy, and I briefly wondered if I might have slipped off in my sleep toward heaven. 鈥擥贬颁

Dennis Cove Road to Laurel Fork Falls, Tennessee听(1.2 Miles: 420.3-421.5)

Located in the just outside of Hampton, Tenn., a strenuous stretch of trail takes you to the 40-foot tall, 50-foot wide Laurel Fork Falls. While springtime air temperatures are often in the high 70s or low 80s, the falls are notoriously cold. That doesn鈥檛 stop hikers from going for a soak, even in early spring. My trail family and I packed out a few beverages from the Black Bear Resort and stuck them in the water during our ice baths. By the time we were done splashing, they were ready to sip. 鈥拟叠厂

Buzzard Rock to Mount Rogers, Virginia (7.3 Miles: 491.9-499.2)

By the time I made it to Buzzard Rock, I finally had my trail legs. The climb to the summit of Buzzard Rock is a little bit of a monster, but for the first time in nearly 500 miles, the strain barely phased me. What鈥檚 more, the whole section offered 360-degree views, made even more beautiful by springtime blossoms. The bald-style peaks in this region make for consistent views across the , a stretch of trail known for wild ponies grazing around Wilburn Ridge. 鈥拟叠厂

McAfee Knob to Tinker Cliffs, Virginia (5.6 Miles: 714.5鈥�720.1)

is the most photographed overlook along the Appalachian Trail鈥攁nd for good reason, since the view it offers feels so epic. But truthfully, I found nearby Tinker Cliffs to be equally stunning, minus the crowds. After McAfee Knob, the trail winds through trees and shrubs before climbing through some boulders to a cliffside that gives you access to several different overlook options. You can complete the Virginia 鈥淭riple Crown鈥� by adding the .听鈥拟叠厂

The Roller Coaster, Virginia (14.0 Miles: 996.4-1,010.4)

Reaching the 1,000-mile mark of a northbound thru-hike, which you do during this infamous stretch, is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster in itself, but these 14 miles are better known for their literal ups and downs. The elevation profile is so tedious and repetitive it鈥檚 almost comedic. I carried an avocado for a friend through this section, contemplating whether or not I should just eat it myself to save my knees from 7 ounces of extra weight. My spirit proved valiant despite more than 3,500 feet of gain. After failing to find my friend after three days, I sliced the avocado into fat chunks, placed it on a burger I bought, and ate it myself, anyway.听鈥拟叠厂

Harpers Ferry, West Virginia (4.4 Miles: 1,025.4鈥�1,029.8)

The AT鈥檚 2,200 miles are chockablock with history, from the indigenous thoroughfares it overlaps to the battlefields it bypasses. But few places in the United States are crucibles of the country鈥檚 struggles and progress quite like . A gap in the ridge and the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers so close to D.C. essentially ensured important events, like the de facto start of the Civil War, would occur here. An idyllic town suspended in amber, Harpers Ferry is glorious on a spring day. Cross the Shenandoah by footbridge and then the Potomac (and into Maryland). Cruise the first few miles of the state on the C&O Canal Trail, surrounded by lush woods and families pushing strollers. The home of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (happy anniversary, and thanks!), Harpers Ferry offers a perfect break at what we call the AT鈥檚 鈥渆motional halfway point.鈥� 鈥擥贬颁

New Jersey-New York State Line (1.9 Miles: 1,369.7鈥�1,371.6)

A recovering van dweller, I was a state-line enthusiast long before I began thru-hiking, curious about how sometimes-arbitrary distinctions between this and that could impact people鈥檚 lives. Maybe the AT made a zealot out of me, crisscrossing as it does 14 states. My favorite crossing happens when, after dancing across the border multiple times, the northbound trail exits New Jersey (great AT state, by the way, for real) into New York. The distinction is painted blaze-white on a massive hunk of rock, part of a series of very brief scrambles (with occasional ladders for help) and open rock faces that offer expansive views of tree-lined ridges, deep blue lakes, and small towns. Few other bits of the AT are quite like it. Bonus: You鈥檙e very close to , some of the trail鈥檚 best ice cream. 鈥擥贬颁

Bear Mountain Recreation Area to Anthony鈥檚 Nose, New York (2.3 Miles: 1,408.2-1,410.5)

The stretch of Appalachian Trail that runs past New York City marks an odd juxtaposition between the trail鈥檚 quiet backcountry and civilization. I made it to just听before Father鈥檚 Day on a balmy summer afternoon, noticing locals gathering for picnics near the lake. Upon reaching Bear鈥檚 summit, I spotted a rattlesnake, poised and ready to strike, just seconds before I peered across the New York skyline. Continuing north, I made my way past a small zoo before crossing the Hudson River on the Bear Mountain Bridge. By the time I reached Anthony鈥檚 Nose on the other side, my brain was still processing a rattlesnake, a skyline, a zoo, and a sprawling bridge in a matter of miles. 鈥拟叠厂

Route 9/Split Rock to Glastenbury Mountain, Vermont (10.4 Miles: 1,618.0鈥�1,628.4)

Vermont doesn鈥檛 get the Appalachian Trail love it deserves. If you鈥檙e headed north, you鈥檙e anticipating the big bosses at the end; if you鈥檙e headed south, you鈥檙e anticipating the four-state rush that begins with Massachusetts. But the 151-mile stretch through Vermont is memorable because of its seasonal mud, its rendezvous with the Long Trail, and its absolute wealth of rich forests, broad meadows, and dreamy ponds. Easily accessible from Bennington, this 10-mile span is an unexpected gem in the . You鈥檒l pass through a striking split rock, ford a stream, navigate slippery boardwalks through forest so green it feels like a sea of melted crayon, and slowly climb nearly 2,000 feet to a lookout tower where the woods blur into a horizon of endless ridges and sky. Get there at sunset, and you鈥檒l instantly understand that Vermont is possibly the AT鈥檚 most gently exquisite state. 鈥擥贬颁

Franconia Ridge to Mount Garfield, New Hampshire听(7.0 Miles: 1,827.0鈥�1,834.0)

greeted me with 50-mile-per-hour winds, making it difficult to stand at my full height. Still, the views were worth it. The majority of this trail section is above treeline, making it high on exposure but easy on the eyes. As the day wore on, the wind died down just in time for me to make the steep climb up majestic Mount Garfield, studded with tiny trees like so many of its White Mountain kin.听鈥拟叠厂

Lost Pond to Carter Notch Hut, New Hampshire (5.2 Miles: 1,878.5鈥�1,883.7)

The White Mountains are not for the faint of heart, as the Wildcat Mountains taught me. This section of trail required rock scrambling, squeezing myself through small spaces, and crawling at a snail鈥檚 pace due to the relentless elevation gain. In fact, if this section were any steeper, it could be placed on the Yosemite Scale and given a rock-climbing grade. Some even call this the AT鈥檚 most challenging bit. One quality that makes the Whites so unique is its hut system. The Appalachian Mountain Club operates , a potential relief for hikers who are looking to get inside for a snack or stay. The Wildcat stretch includes the Carter Notch Hut鈥攓uiet, beautiful, and a great place for a cup of coffee before continuing on.听鈥拟叠厂

Mahoosuc Notch to Speck Pond Shelter, Maine (3.4 Miles: 1,922.0鈥�1,925.4)

For 2,000 miles of the AT, you will resent switchbacks and PUDS (that is, pointless ups-and-downs), all moves the trail makes to get you where you need to go without ruining the landscape. In Maine, where native son Stephen King must have convinced some poor trail builder that building switchbacks would haunt them, hikers face hard climbs. This wondrous little stretch starts with the Mahoosuc Notch, a mile-long jungle gym of enormous boulders that you will climb atop, under, and around. Finish that, and it鈥檚 time for the Mahoosuc Arm, a 1,600-foot climb on a little more than a mile of rock that鈥檚 so consistently wet it seems to be leaking grease. Finish that, and it鈥檚 time for your true reward: the glorious Speck Pond Shelter, one of the most stunning places to spend the night on the entire trip. 鈥擥贬颁

Pemadumcook Lake, Maine (2.7 Miles: 2,149.1鈥�2,151.8)

I will forever be grateful for the shores of Pemadumcook Lake, because that鈥檚 where, a few days into a trek of the , I inexplicably found a bag of unopened Pop-Tarts, my favorite trail food. I ate them all. But when I see photos of that moment, I am wowed again by how massive Mount Katahdin appears on the horizon, though it鈥檚 still 50 trail miles north. In its isolation, especially against a pale blue morning, it looks like the continent鈥檚 biggest peak. No wonder . If you鈥檙e heading north, summit fever will soon set in, so take time to enjoy the way Katahdin frames this placid Maine lake. And maybe eat a Pop-Tart? 鈥擥贬颁

Katahdin Spring Campground to Katahdin Summit, Maine听(5.2 Miles: 2,192.2鈥�2,197.4)

Within days of finding my trail family in Georgia, our peers dubbed us 鈥渢he Breakfast Club,鈥� because we were infamous for waking up before the sun to catch sunrise on a summit somewhere. My hiking partner and I tackled Katahdin in the same spirit, rising from our quarters at Katahdin Spring Campground at 3 a.m. before beginning the ascent. Halfway up the climb, we turned to the sky and glimpsed the Milky Way, peppering the darkness with color. We slogged on, equal parts ecstatic and devastated to be nearly done. By the time we reached the summit of Katahdin, the sun winked over the horizon, making us some of the first people to greet a new day along the east coast while we ended our thru-hike. 鈥拟叠厂

The post What Are the 100 Best Miles of the Appalachian Trail? We Asked Two Thru-Hikers to Choose. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Jack Jones was not a cheat-code kid.

When he played computer games like World of Warcraft or EverQuest, Jones always wanted to know about the next level, where the struggles and the stakes would both be a bit higher. This characteristic hasn’t changed. Jones, now 38, is better known as Quadzilla, a hiking powerhouse famous not only for the gams that gave him his trail name, as well as his , and his righteous political advocacy, but also for his willingness to push new extremes. Midway through a 100-mile race in 2021, for instance, Jones decided that he would pursue the Calendar-Year Triple Crown in 2022: the Appalachian, Continental Divide, and Pacific Crest trails in the same year. , Jones opted to level up in a different way during 2024: to hike the entire while spending just $1,000 total on gear, food, and shelter.

鈥淚 knew I could hike the AT, that I could do 30-mile days,鈥� Jones tells me from Vietnam, where the Army veteran has begun an indefinite self-imposed political exile. 鈥淚 knew this might force me to go two weeks without a shower. It might force me to eat a whole chicken in a Walmart parking lot鈥攁nd then continue on.鈥�

So on May 21, 2024, Jones鈥攁nd a younger hiking friend, Tate 鈥淧yro鈥� Dobson鈥攍eft the trail鈥檚 southern terminus in Georgia, carrying he鈥檇 methodically made himself or ordered after hours of research on AliExpress, a sort of Chinese Etsy-meets-Amazon in overdrive. In the past, Jones had carried backpacks that cost more, but he was attempting to reach Maine with an , an , and shoes he purchased on clearance. 鈥淚t was my extra layer of challenge,鈥� he says, grinning. 鈥淏eing a little more creative to be a little more comfortable is fun.鈥�

The sacrifices came quickly. Aiming to finish in less than 100 days, or just more than half of the six-month average, Jones left Georgia late, which exposed him to the soaring Southern heat. An early encounter with a poison ivy stand left him with a massive rash that he suspects he could have mitigated with more showers and laundry. Those, however, would have cost money he intended to save.

The poison ivy was but a prologue for what came next, for what Jones worried would cost him not only his budget hike but also his left leg. He鈥檇 struggled with shoe selection; thru-hikes can often burn the tread and compress the cushion in a half-dozen pairs, a line item that can push a grand itself. Jones had ordered multiple shoes from AliExpress, only to realize that their floppy construction and nearly non-existent grip created their own dangers. So when he found a deeply discounted set of used name-brand kicks at REI, he rejoiced. 鈥淭urns out, if there鈥檚 a whole bunch of used stock of a shoe,鈥� he says, 鈥渋t鈥檚 probably junk.鈥�

Less than 200 miles into the hike, a plastic piece inside the shoe began cutting into his foot. He knew he needed something else, so, in desperation, he grabbed a pair of waterproof trail runners from a North Carolina . Not long after he entered Virginia, the fever and cramps began, an infection steadily spreading up his left leg in visible lines. He caught a ride to an urgent care with a prison guard, happily popped open a bottle of antibiotics, and found a free place to stay courtesy of an old friend who happened to be a doctor.

鈥淚f I鈥檇 let that go for a week, I could have died. It was that serious,鈥� says Jones. 鈥淚 got cut because I tried to be cheap with shoes. So there鈥檚 a lesson, right? Don鈥檛 cheat on footwear.鈥�

Jones knew his budget was permanently blown, since he estimated the doctor visit would cost him $250. (He hasn鈥檛 been billed yet, either thanks to a mistake or Missouri Medicaid; he鈥檚 not asking.) He opted to relax just enough to buy what was necessary鈥攊ncluding new Altras for the rest of the trail鈥攂ut not to splurge. He made it to New York, or two states beyond the AT鈥檚 halfway mark, on his preset $1,000. By the time he鈥檇 reached the northern endpoint at Mount Katahdin, after tacking on the tricky northern half of Vermont鈥檚 Long Trail and slowing down to enjoy Maine鈥檚 splendor, he鈥檇 spent $2,397.19, or less than half of the

Several lessons鈥攂uying robust hiking shoes included鈥攅merged on the way to Maine. Where candy bars were once a fast-fuel staple of Jones’s diet, he realized they weren鈥檛 as cost-efficient as he鈥檇 assumed. He didn鈥檛 eat one on the entire trail. Instead, he made his own trail mix, combining cashews with coconut flakes and chocolate chips from the baking aisle, turning $10 into 100 miles of calories. For dinner, he stayed steady with two packets of Ramen noodles and a few spoons of peanut butter. This might, he says, have been his most nutritious thru-hike.

He would often camp on the edges of towns, too, so that he could get in and out with groceries while avoiding the temptation to sit down for an expensive restaurant meal, or to book a room. And in towns where he did stop, he looked to split a hotel room or hostel with other hikers, opting for a spot with a kitchen whenever possible so that they could cook big, cheap meals. And when a fast-food opportunity presented itself, Jones knew to look first for an app before ordering. His first restaurant meal came at a Tennessee McDonald鈥檚, several hundred miles into his trip. 鈥�2,000 calories for $3?鈥� he says, beaming as if reliving the experience in real time. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 amazing.鈥�

As Jones walked, he kept a , clocking the costs of his resupplies and stays. I鈥檓 struck by the restraint evident in those numbers. If you鈥檝e ever gone to a grocery store while hungry, you know well the temptation to throw everything into the cart. But he broke $80 only once, with many of his purchases landing around $35.

There are some higher-level takeaways, too, from Jones’ extreme budgeting. Jones is a longtime practitioner of Vipassana meditation, having done nearly ten silent retreats. He doesn鈥檛 maintain a formal practice on trail, because he鈥檇 fall asleep so fast, but it alters the way he handles hardships outside. 鈥淚 knew it wasn鈥檛 going to be hot forever. I knew I wasn鈥檛 going to have poison ivy forever,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 try to maintain an equanimity of my mind and an awareness of my body, so if it鈥檚 cold, I can stop myself from saying 鈥業 wish I wasn鈥檛 cold.鈥� It鈥檚 a constant process.鈥�

He also had his physical fitness to thank. If you鈥檝e seen a , you know Jones is something of a beast鈥攁 veteran who started a Crossfit gym and went on to fight wildland fires, , and capture one of the rarest feats in American hiking with the Calendar-Year Triple Crown. His legs appear sculpted in marble by Michelangelo. But the more you can do to start a trail strong rather than relying on the trail to condition you while you walk, the faster you can move and the more money you can save. 鈥淚f it took me twice as long to do it,鈥� he says, 鈥渕y cost might have doubled. Being in shape is a big one.鈥�

Jones acknowledges that hiking on such a minuscule budget raises some ethical concerns, particularly when it comes to his gear. He knows that the down in the jacket he eventually left in a hiker box wasn鈥檛 sustainably sourced, and he knows that all of the gear he ordered on AliExpress was so cheap because the wages are low. But these, he says, are issues beyond the bounds of a thru-hike, questions that somebody slipping into the woods for a few months cannot answer. 鈥淪omeone shouldn鈥檛 be kept out of the outdoors because they can鈥檛 afford the most 鈥榚thical鈥� gear,鈥� he says. 鈥淚f someone鈥檚 making good money, then, yes, buy all the cottage brands and support them. But there is no clear-cut answer here.鈥�

There is a possible alternative, though. Jones鈥� hiking partner, Pyro, didn鈥檛 try to stick to $1,000 as a theoretical exercise or a challenge to himself. When he headed east to join Jones, he estimates he had $1,500 available for the whole trip. In the two weeks between deciding to join Jones鈥� mission and leaving for it, Pyro mailed some old shoes to assorted points along the trail and made his own backpack.

For 2,200 miles, Pyro raided hiker boxes for the best snacks he could find, dumpster-dove to find chocolate milk (鈥淚t was hot, but it tasted fine.鈥�) and baby formula, and accepted the generosity of strangers, including a free pair of used shoes from a trail angel. He learned that a plastic bag full of spaghetti and eggs is a very cheap and delicious meal to pack out of town, and that shoes can be stitched together with mere dental floss. He barely bought new gear at all, and he spent $1,300.

I asked Pyro if he could have made it for $1,000, after all. 鈥淭hat was never my goal, but easy,鈥� he says, laughing. 鈥淎ll you have to do is go out to eat less.鈥�

The post He Tried to Hike the Appalachian Trail on a $1,000 Budget. Here鈥檚 What He Learned. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

On Tuesday morning, three days after Hurricane Helene ravaged swaths of the Southeastern United States, I began making calls to old friends and hiking experts who live along the Appalachian Trail.

I had seen the of Hot Springs, North Carolina鈥攁 place I called home for years and one of the few towns the 2,200-mile trail bisects via sidewalk鈥攄rowned in the brown waters of an incoming creek and the mighty French Broad. I had seen images of the in Erwin, Tennessee, which leads just past one of the trail鈥檚 famous hostels and from one sweeping ridgeline to another. And I had seen the near Damascus, Virginia, one of the trail鈥檚 spiritual epicenters, cracked in pieces like overcooked pecan brittle. I had seen reports of the 220 dead and many more missing. Communities of longtime friends were entirely marooned, and little towns I鈥檇 cherished as a lifelong Southerner were ripped open like wet cardboard听boxes.

I asked them about the state of the trail鈥攁 pathway that has changed so many lives (including my own). I assumed the worst, that it was either washed away or buried by landslides in extended stretches. Online prognosticators didn’t improve my assumption.

鈥淥ne-third of this trail is destroyed,鈥� a TikToker named said in a by Wednesday. Using a map of the AT as her greenscreen, she speculated about the devastation. 鈥淭his catastrophic storm is actually going to change the map of North Carolina and Tennessee, the actual topography.鈥�

But my phone calls yielded a surprise. As best as anyone can tell right now, the claims of complete destruction aren鈥檛 true, either for the AT or for the half-dozen other long-distance trails that radiate through the lower reaches of some of the world鈥檚 oldest mountains. Misinformation and assumptions based on that request鈥攁nd then broadcast for TikTok likes鈥攎ake a bad situation worse, unnecessarily adding to the weight of a region鈥檚 already seismic loss. The Appalachian Trail is a point of pride for people there, for people in the midst of losing everything; saying it is destroyed based on no data adds insult to inestimable injury.

While it is true that the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, the nonprofit that helps manage the path and the lands surrounding it, has , or its lower third, it is not true that those miles are destroyed. Sources I spoke to talked of toppled trees, down branches, and flooding.

鈥淚t should be posted that鈥攐n four miles of this 2,200-mile trail鈥攖here鈥檚 a lot of devastation. It鈥檚 four miles of flood devastation like I鈥檝e never seen before,鈥� Warren Doyle, a longtime AT expert and the person who’s hiked the AT more than anyone else ever, told me Wednesday afternoon. Doyle鈥檚 estimation takes in the stretches that pass through the towns hit the hardest along the trail. 鈥淏ut that doesn鈥檛 mean you close the whole trail down,” he said.

The same seems to hold for the , which takes an alternate path through the Appalachians. 鈥淣othing out of the ordinary鈥攂ranches, limbs, and a few blowdowns,鈥� the president of the trail鈥檚 association, Bob Cowdrick, told me late Wednesday of the trail鈥檚 southern half. He hopes to get eyes on the rest of it within two weeks.

But information on trail conditions remains scant, as efforts to save lives and communities continue. In that light, the ATC鈥檚 request is reasonable.

Joshua Niven and Amber Adams Niven live just outside of Hot Springs, the Appalachian Trail oasis 275 miles north of the southern terminal. Its famous outfitter has been ripped apart like a box of candy by a black bear.听It is the Nivens鈥� favorite place in the world, Joshua tells me, and it will not be a functioning trail town for a while. The safety of its own residents, of course, is paramount now.

But Niven can see the trail from his window, and he seems almost sanguine about its status. He and Amber are chronicle of the trail for Falcon Guides; he ticks through the places in those first 865 miles that may be a problem and names surprisingly few鈥攑erhaps the Roan Highlands, where Tennessee, Virginia, and North Carolina meet, or maybe听the steep embankments leading north out of Hot Springs itself. Like Doyle, he is concerned for the tiny Appalachian towns themselves but suggests workarounds for hikers.

鈥淪aturated trees鈥攖hat鈥檚 always going to be a thing. But I haven鈥檛 seen anything that鈥檚 catastrophic that a hiker couldn鈥檛 navigate,鈥� Joshua said, adding the caveat that there will likely be pockets where destruction is greater. 鈥淚t might be unpleasant, given how many trees are there,” he said. “What鈥檚 the issue with hiking in woods that have trees down?鈥�

And there are, of course, a lot of trees. To put it in perspective, the highest point on the Appalachian Trail is , at 6,644 feet (The entire range tops out at 6,684.) There are many trailheads on the Pacific Crest Trail and the Continental Divide Trail higher than that. This means that the AT rarely exits treeline鈥攖hat is the essence of its so-called 鈥済reen tunnel.鈥� It鈥檚 constantly passing through terrain where wet ground and even mild winds can clot the trail with a seemingly infinite number of downed trees. That鈥檚 the worry.

Betsy Brown is the associate director of Friends of the , an 1,175-mile path that meets the AT atop Kuwohi before extending听east toward the North Carolina coast. More than a third of the trail is , as employees await reconnaissance on its conditions. So far, one volunteer has been able to hike just two miles near the famous Blue Ridge Parkway, which has been . There were 27 new trees across it. That kind of cleanup will take time to complete.

鈥淭he trees down is a huge problem,鈥� says Brown. 鈥淏ut the bigger problem is that, in these more remote places, our volunteer crews are smaller, with vigorous retirees. Having to walk in with chainsaws and fuel is hard. And for now, they鈥檙e dealing with their own issues, just trying to get back to normal.鈥�

Indeed, time will be key to reversing the damage鈥攏ot outright destruction, at least in most places鈥攐n the trail. Dan Ryan, who works with land stewards along the AT, outlined an extended process for clearing the trail of downed trees and fixing any sections where running water ripped it asunder.

He told me that, over the next month, the National Forest Service and National Park Service will assess damaged areas and offer a report about what needs to be done where. Only then, Ryan said, can the ATC begin deploying its half-dozen volunteer trail crews to begin work. Restoring every mile, he said, may take years; some of its most beautiful places have been forever changed, as hiker and runner Sarah Baker recently noted at the Walnut Mountain trailhead, an exquisite bit of Appalachia. Ryan worries, too, about the damage so many newly downed trees might have on long-term ecosystem health, from new pests to wildfire risks. But they have to start somewhere.

鈥淭rail clubs are champing听at the bit to get out and help,鈥� Ryan said. 鈥淚t won鈥檛 be a challenge of deploying resources, because those are in place, regardless. It鈥檚 just a matter of putting them where they need to be鈥攊n safe conditions, in the priorities those agencies have dictated to us.鈥�

While these agencies assess damage and determine how to address it, the ATC is advising that hikers鈥攅ven southbound thru-hikers, with less than 1,000 miles left in their walks鈥攖o stay off trail. Visitors will require resources from towns simply trying to survive and rebuild, like Hot Springs. Again, this seems reasonable enough. But I also understand the perspective of Doyle, who sees the trail as an absolute avenue of liberation and is still more than miffed about the ATC’s stance on Covid-19 back in early 2020, when the trail was actually closed.

鈥淚t is another liability-informed directive from the ATC,鈥� he told me. 鈥淚t鈥檚 an overreaction.鈥�

Still, even Doyle鈥攑erhaps the AT’s most important living evangelist鈥攈ad to change his plans for the week when he learned how many trees had fallen near his home not far from flood-ravaged Damascus, Virginia, one of the epicenters of AT hiking culture. On Tuesday, he took five new students at his Appalachian Trail Institute for a six-mile hike. I鈥檝e done that walk in Doyle鈥檚 weeklong seminar before, and it takes a few easy hours. His students spent six arduous hours climbing over fallen trees.

So on Wednesday, he dropped them off again, and told them to hike two hours in one direction, and then walk back to the car. The damage is extensive, he told me, but it can be overcome. 鈥淲hen they came out of the woods yesterday, they were talking and laughing. They worked as a team, and they learned a lot of important things about each other,鈥� he said, sitting in his car, awaiting their return. 鈥淭hey experienced adversity.鈥�

Doyle knows, of course, that such adversity withers in comparison to what his neighbors are facing just down the mountain road. But he鈥檚 still proud to be teaching people to get ready to hike the AT, hopefully next year.

The post Did Hurricane Helene Really Destroy One-Third of the Appalachian Trail? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Brad Smith hiked into Damascus, Virginia, on the Appalachian Trail just as the rain from Hurricane Helene thickened into a torrent.

鈥淭he last 6 miles was the worst weather I鈥檝e been outside in, and I鈥檓 49鈥 could have kayaked off the mountain if I had one,鈥� he wrote in a message. 鈥淭he trail was a small river. Guessing I was one of the last customers at the Damascus Diner before Laurel Creek took it and the street over.鈥�

More than are dead and many more are missing after Helene carved a 500-mile-long path of devastation through the southeastern United States with 30 people losing their lives in North Carolina鈥檚 Buncombe County alone. Among the hardest-hit communities were trail towns in Tennessee, North Carolina, and Virginia that some of the AT鈥檚 best-known businesses and trail angels call home.

Drew 鈥淏irdman鈥� Glines, an Appalachian Trail thru-hiker, rafting guide, and North Carolina local told Backpacker that the 鈥渄evastation鈥� inflicted on riverside communities was hard to describe.

鈥淩oads and bridges have been completely destroyed, making some areas still completely inaccessible to even emergency vehicles,鈥� he wrote in an email.

While destinations like the Nantahala Outdoor Center, the Western Smokies, Gatlinburg, and Pigeon Ford escaped major harm from the hurricane, other areas were not so lucky. Glines rattled off a list of landmarks affected by the hurricane.

鈥� in Roan was flooded. Hot Springs was hard hit鈥s was Hartford,鈥� he wrote. 鈥� is devastated.鈥� The majority of western North Carolina is out of cell service, water, and power, although 鈥榙isaster roaming鈥� has allowed locals to connect to any functioning network in the wake of the tragedy. The town of Asheville is still largely isolated due to infrastructure damage and washed-out roads.

On Trail When the Hurricane Hit

Smith wasn鈥檛 the only hiker caught in the weather. Lisa Woodward was hiking through Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee when the hurricane struck.

鈥淸We] experienced torrential downpours and wind gusts of up to 80 miles per hour or so at almost 6,000 feet elevation,鈥� she wrote in a message. 鈥淗ad to take a zero on Fri. at TriCorner Knob Shelter to wait out the worst of it. Made it out on Sunday via the Low Gap Trail to Cosby CampGround, where Ken from Discerning Hiker Hostel 鈥榬escued鈥� us.鈥�

Mollie Dembek was on trail near Hot Springs when the weather turned.

鈥淚 was at Flint Mountain Shelter, north of Hot Springs, NC when it started raining HARD on Tuesday,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚 decided to hike the next day to Hemlock Hollow Hostel and Campground in Greeneville, TN the next day to get out of the rain. I am SO GLAD I did. I stayed the night there, warm and dry, but was watching the weather and news the entire time growing more and more anxious,鈥� she said.

Dembek was able to make it to Asheville to stay with a friend. On Saturday, they decided to leave the area. Strangers lent her gas money at a station in Weaverville that was only accepting cash. (鈥淭hey said it was 鈥榯rail magic,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淚 absolutely started crying.鈥�)

鈥淭hey ended up following us over the mountains because we were able to get turn by turn directions from my friend using my Garmin InReach,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚 was able to communicate with friends and family using my Garmin and got seven people to safety because of the technology. I was never so grateful to get to Maryville, TN and get a cell signal.鈥�

Hot Springs, North Carolina. My grandfather鈥檚 summer mountain pasture was over on Spring Creek, near this lovely little town.

鈥� Anne Margaret Daniel (@venetianblonde)

While locals are still fighting for their lives, other members of the trail community are rallying to support them. Trail Angels like 鈥溾�� Hensley of Erwin, Tennessee are scrambling to support flooded communities in the wake of the tragedy. Matthew 鈥淥die鈥� Norman, a thru-hiker, trail angel, and former owner of the Hiker Yearbook, was in New Jersey for the hurricane but is preparing to drive south to support local trail communities.

Trail Organizations Warn Hikers to Stay Away for Now

Determining when hiking should resume in the southern part of the Appalachian Trail is a sensitive topic. Norman said that 鈥渕ost hikers should not attempt to hike in the south at this time.鈥�

In a statement, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) warned visitors to stay off trail between Springer Mountain (NOBO Mile 0) and Rockfish Gap (NOBO Mile 864.6).

鈥淥ver the coming weeks and months, the ATC will be working with the National Park Service, U.S. Forest Service, and state and local partners to inventory the damage to the treadway, trailheads, bridges, overnight sites, privies and other A.T. features,鈥� the organization said. 鈥淟andslides and falling trees could continue for some time, so we ask volunteers and trail crews to pause work on this section of the Trail and to coordinate closely with regional ATC teams.鈥�

Hensley said that the devastation in trail communities like Damascus and Hot Springs is 鈥渄ire.鈥�

鈥淭hese communities are asking us to please stay away鈥hey cannot handle the infrastructure or any people walking into town,鈥� she said. In the event that hikers choose to continue hiking through southern Appalachia and they get into trouble, she adds, emergency services are unlikely to be able to help in a timely fashion.

Hensley said that hikers should stay informed and start making plans once they reach Virginia.

鈥淲hen people come through the Shenandoah they need to be deciding what they鈥檙e going to do,鈥� she said. 鈥淏ut hiking through this area would be ridiculous and it鈥檚 going to put lives on the line.鈥�

Norman said he recognizes that as the weeks stretch on, deciding when it鈥檚 the right time to hit the trail again could pose a difficult question鈥攁nd that different hikers could have different answers.

鈥淭he hiking community will be walking a tightrope in the next few months. Should hikers continue their hike? Would it be detrimental to the trail towns? What if there鈥檚 an emergency and emergency services are already stretched thin?鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut there are other questions: what if hikers have nowhere to go? What if they鈥檙e hiking off war, drug addiction, any number of traumatic events? What if they鈥檙e hiking to help?鈥�

One thing Norman is certain of: When hikers are able to come and help, they will.

鈥淚 can tell you for a fact that I watched hikers assist trail towns in 2020 and they will do it again in 2024,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t will not be publicized on Facebook, it will not be filmed, it is not done for recognition, it is done because that鈥檚 what hikers do.鈥�

Readers looking for guidance and direction around post-hurricane support can find more information from the . Official trail closures are available on the .听

The post AT Hikers Rally Support As Trail Towns Recover From Hurricane Helene appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

There鈥檚 something about late summer. The last of the snow melts, the summer rains stop, and the air finally begins to cool. In short: it鈥檚 the perfect weather for a long hike. Or鈥攊f you happen to be a top-tier endurance athlete鈥攆or smashing your heroes鈥� records to smithereens.

Over the last few weeks, trails across the United States have seen some stunning new (FKTs). What鈥檚 more, they鈥檝e been rolling out at a pace that鈥檚 left our news team scrambling to cover them all. From an astonishing controversial three-hours sprint up the Grand Teton, to a grueling 40-day, 18-hour Appalachian Trail sufferfest, it鈥檚 been a fast, fast summer.

The season鈥檚 perfect weather鈥攃ool, dry, mercilessly free of wildfire smoke in many regions鈥攈as helped bolster the rate of new records. But a big part of the uptick may actually be post-pandemic timing.

鈥淭here was a during Covid,鈥� said Will Peterson, who set a new FKT on Vermont鈥檚 272-mile Long Trail FKT on September 1. 鈥淪ome people went back to doing races, but many athletes have stuck around because they got into FKTs during the pandemic and really liked it.鈥�

According to Peterson, FKTs have become more respected over the past few years鈥攚hich has made them a target for big-name celebrity runners as well as speedy underdogs who would normally eschew traditional competitions.

鈥淚n some ways, it’s more accessible and more relatable than running races,鈥� Peterson said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 why I got into it鈥攊t鈥檚 something anyone can do. You don鈥檛 have to have a ton of money or sponsorships to go out and set an FKT.鈥�

Today, more people seem to be chasing long-trail records than ever before, Peterson said. Between the increased awareness and expanded pool of contenders鈥攎any of whom have now been training for exactly this sort of objective for several years鈥攊t鈥檚 perhaps no wonder that record-setting is entering a golden age. Here鈥檚 a look at five perfect case studies from this summer.

Brent Herring Fought Hallucinations to Score a Colorado Trail FKT

On August 22, Durango, Colorado-based endurance athlete and skimo racer kicked off FKT season when he stumbled across the finish line of the 500-mile Colorado Trail with a new self-supported record. His time鈥�10 days, 17 hours, and 38 minutes鈥攚as about four days faster than the women鈥檚 record, which set in 2020.

While popular, the Colorado Trail is no walk in the park. Many hikers need four to six weeks. After all, the distance is only part of the challenge. Much of the route lies above 10,000 feet, and numerous grueling climbs and mountain passes rack up around 90,000 feet in total vertical gain. On his very first day on the trail, Herring suffered from heat exhaustion and nearly quit. A week later, he started , another symptom of extreme fatigue. But he pushed through to the finish, cruising into his hometown just after midnight where his wife鈥攁nd a large pizza鈥攚ere waiting.

Anton Krupicka Ran the LA Freeway in Just Over 13 Hours

On August 31, ultrarunner Anton Krupicka practically sprinted the , a 34-mile traverse of the Continental Divide, which he took down in just over 13 hours. The route is as technical as it is long: It includes considerable stretches of fourth- and fifth-class terrain and connects the highest points of Colorado鈥檚 Indian Peaks Wilderness and Rocky Mountain National Park. The entirety of the traverse lies above 12,000 feet in elevation.

To prep, Krupicka spent as much time at altitude as possible. 鈥淚 climbed Longs Peak 30 times over the course of the summer,鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut to be honest, I didn鈥檛 think I was going to set the record this year.鈥� He鈥檇 initially planned for a July attempt, but by then, the ephemeral streams lacing Colorado鈥檚 highcountry he would rely on for hydration had all but dried up. Krupicka knew the unsupported record would be impossible without on-route water.

鈥淚鈥檇 pretty much given up,鈥� he said. But a last-ditch reconnaissance mission in August revealed reemerging springs after a few weeks of heavy rain. Krupicka immediately started prepping for a record attempt. On August 31, he went for it鈥攁nd finished the route in a cool 13 hours, 20 minutes, and 48 seconds, shaving more than three hours off runner Kyle Richardson鈥檚 2018 time.

Will Peterson Broke the Long Trail鈥檚 Four-Day Barrier

Over Labor Day weekend, thru-hiker Will Peterson scored the overall FKT on America鈥檚 oldest thru-hike: the 272-mile Long Trail in Vermont. He completed the route in just three days, 21 hours, and ten minutes. In doing so, he became the first person to finish the trail in under four days, and beat the previous record by more than six hours. The feat comes about a year after Peterson set the trail鈥檚 unsupported record in August of 2023.

For Peterson, the early-September timing was purely related to the Labor-day school break he had: as a third-year medical school student, weekends and holidays are pretty much the only time he has to bust out big multi-day adventures. During the week, he works or studies for eight to ten hours per day, and spends the rest of the time training.

To notch the record, Peterson averaged around 70 miles and up to 22,700 feet of elevation gain per day (which is a lot, even by ultrarunning standards) and relied on a team of 30 pacers and crew members鈥攐nly about half of whom he knew.

鈥淚 put out an appeal to the local running community, saying that I needed help with a supported attempt,鈥� he explained. 鈥淎bout half the people who responded were friends and family members. The rest were total strangers.鈥� But together, they helped him battle debilitating quad pain, long stretches of night running, and total exhaustion to crush his previous record by about 15 hours.

鈥淚t was truly a team effort,鈥� he said.

Michelino Senseri Attempted a Controversial FKT on the Grand Teton听

On September 2, Idaho-based endurance athlete Michelino Senseri announced that he鈥檇 bagged a sub-three-hour speed record on Wyoming鈥檚 Grand Teton. In the following days, Fastest Known Time reviewed his claim鈥攁nd then rejected it.

In their review of his claim, Fastest Known Time noted that Sunseri cut at least one switchback. That means that, while he did climb the Grand in a very fast time, he did not follow the sanctioned route. Because he was essentially competing on a different field of play, his claim was ruled invalid.

His feat is still impressive. It takes most experienced climbers a full day to summit and descend the 13,770-foot peak. The fact that Sunseri was able to do it in just 2 hours, 50 minutes, and 50 seconds speaks to his athleticism and dedicated preparation: he completed more than 40 climbs of the Grand over the course of several years before making his effort. But a few decision-making errors cost him the ultimate triumph.

Tara Dower became the Appalachian Trail鈥檚 New Speed Queen听

On September 21, just a few minutes to midnight, Virginia-based thru-hiker and endurance athlete Tara 鈥淐andy Mama鈥� Dower jogged the final hill to the top of Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. When the clock stopped at 40 days, 18 hours, and 5 minutes, she became the fastest human鈥攚oman or man鈥攖o complete the Appalachian Trail supported.

Dower ran an average of 54 miles per day to snatch the record from previous FKT-holder Karl Sabbe. She also ate upwards of 10,000 calories each day and woke up at 3:00 AM every morning to stay on pace. It paid off. In a , Dower called the feat 鈥渁 dream come true.鈥�

鈥淚f I鈥檓 to be honest I didn鈥檛 think it was possible,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淗owever, I had people on my crew who believed in my abilities and pushed me to my limits. That鈥檚 all it was.鈥�

The post Forget Pumpkin Spice Lattes, It鈥檚 FKT Season appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

One of the most grueling records in American endurance sports fell late Saturday night in northern Georgia. Tara Dower, a 31-year-old ultrarunner and long-distance hiker born in North Carolina and based in Virginia, reached Georgia’s Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, at 11:53 P.M. She completed the arduous southern thru-hike of the iconic trail, crossing 14 states and 2,197 miles, in 40 days, 18 hours, and 5 minutes. It鈥檚 the fastest known time for hiking the iconic trail in either direction.

Her finishing time cleaves approximately 13 hours off the 2018 benchmark set by Belgian runner Karel Sabbe, who in 2018 hiked the trail from south to north. It also听returns the overall听record to a woman for the first time since 2015, when Scott Jurek eclipsed Jennifer Pharr Davis鈥� then-record by only three hours. What’s even more impressive is that Dower, who goes by the trail name “Candy Mama,” had to come from behind to topple Sabbe’s record after falling off pace during a particularly rainy spell in New England.

鈥淭he number of people that have hiked the Appalachian Trail before Tara in less than 50 days is ten, only one of them a woman,鈥� explained Liz Derstine, who set the women鈥檚 record for a northbound hike in 2020 at 51 days and joined Dower for a stretch of the trail earlier this week.

鈥淎nd Tara has done it faster than all of them, including the men,” Derstine added. “This is one of the greatest achievements of all time. It鈥檚 huge.鈥�

Statistics aside, what鈥檚 most remarkable about Dower鈥檚 achievement may be her rapid and unexpected rise through the ranks of distance hikers and runners. Less than a decade ago, when Dower was a student at East Carolina University, she became fascinated by听the Appalachian Trail after idly watching a National Geographic documentary. She graduated in 2016, and the next year she set off northward from Springer Mountain, making it only 80 miles before her grandparents picked her up.

鈥淚 had really bad, untreated anxiety, a panic attack on trail,鈥� Dower told me Wednesday morning as she pushed through Great Smoky Mountains National Park. 鈥淚 vowed not to thru-hike again and was pretty bummed.鈥�

Of course, she did not keep to her vow. I met Dower on the Appalachian Trail back in 2019, when we were both 200 miles into our respective first-time thru-hikes. She and her husband Jonathan had gotten married six months earlier; with听trail names 鈥淐andy Mama鈥� and 鈥淪heriff,鈥� they were still in a sort of honeymoon glow, doing handstands atop Appalachian balds and beaming for her . The couple did not push for speed during that trek, and they reached Maine in a little more than five months, a perfectly average time.

Dower had seen a clip of Karl 鈥淪peedgoat鈥� Meltzer鈥檚 2016 record-setting effort and assumed that wasn鈥檛 for her. 鈥淗e was so tall, so athletic, and I thought he had this perfect endurance body,鈥� she told me. 鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 fathom doing anything close to that.鈥�

Dower’s perspective changed during the pandemic. She moved to Hot Springs, North Carolina, an iconic AT trail town, to work for a guiding service owned by Jennifer Pharr Davis, the earlier record holder. Dower began running the mountains around her, and in 2020 she paced Derstine on two nearby sections during her own FKT attempt on the AT’s northern route. Dower then spent that September racing east across North Carolina on the 1,175-mile Mountains-to-Sea Trail, establishing a new speed record of just over 29 days.

鈥淭hat felt plenty hard and plenty long. It was a struggle, and I was unhealthy鈥� she said, laughing as she tried to cough up a bug she鈥檇 swallowed while moving down the trail. 鈥淚t didn鈥檛 cross my mind to try something else.鈥�

But she soon began mounting an impressive running resume鈥攆our ultra victories in 2021, plus a course record on the Devil Dog 100-miler in 2022. She set a new record for the 300-mile Benton MacKaye Trail, often seen as a miniature AT, that year, and then shattered a long-standing women鈥檚 benchmark on the 567-mile in a cooperative effort with Derstine.

Along the way, Dower also went viral in the ultra-running world due to a painful encounter with a cholla cactus鈥攚hile she wore cat ears, no less.

Dower pondered and planned her record-breaking AT attempt for more than a year, but in 2023 she chose to lean into extreme endurance training to prepare her body, rather than rest her legs for the attempt. An overall win in North Carolina鈥檚 Umstead 100-miler that summer became her preamble for one of running鈥檚 most daunting races, Colorado鈥檚 Hardrock 100. Dower finished fourth, seven hours behind one of her inspirations, Courtney Dauwalter.

In fact, Dauwalter鈥檚 record-breaking wins last year at the Western States Endurance Run and the Hardrock 100 within a three-week window鈥攆ollowed by her subsequent victory at Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc鈥攊nspired Dower to start the AT just a month after the 2024 Hardrock 100.

鈥淎 lot of people told me what I shouldn鈥檛 do, especially doing Hardrock so close to the AT. But no one鈥檚 ever tried it, so I wanted to see if it helped,鈥� said Dower, pausing a playlist of Madonna and Ice Spice to talk. 鈥淚 knew I would have mountain-racing legs and would be acclimated to 10,000 feet, so I鈥檇 have an advantage in Maine. And I felt like I was on Cloud Nine.鈥�

Appalachian Trail guru Warren Doyle told me that one of Dower’s secrets to success was her consistent speed on the trail. On most days she hiked slower than Sabbe鈥檚 pace, he said, but she traversed more total miles. 鈥淪he put in longer workdays,鈥� Doyle explained Friday, just as Dower neared the North Carolina-Georgia border. 鈥淚 hope this puts it to rest: It鈥檚 not about speed. It鈥檚 about endurance. It鈥檚 not the Fastest Known Time. It鈥檚 the Shortest Known Time.鈥�

In recent years, as the popularity of FKT attempts have grown, corporate sponsorships and larger support crews on trail have become de rigueur. Dower, however, kept her posse small, with only her mother, Debbie Komlo, and a hiker she befriended on the AT in 2019, Megan 鈥淩ascal鈥� Wilmarth, joining her the entire time. (Multiple other hikers others paced her or arrived at assorted trailheads to offer help, but they came and went.)

Dower and Wilmarth slept in a Ford Transit van nicknamed “Burly,” while Komlo trailed them in her Dodge Durango. They worked relentlessly to get her in bed by 10 P.M. and up at 3 A.M., feeding her upwards of 10,000 calories each day. They also replenished Dower’s massive snack box of, as Komlo put it, 鈥渘ot a lot of healthy stuff鈥� with Rice Krispies Treats, Twizzlers, Gushers. Four times a day, Dower downed a 320-calorie protein shake.

鈥淎t stops, we just shoveled food into her face,鈥� Wilmarth told me. 鈥淲e鈥檇 always have a sit-down meal, but, of course, she wouldn鈥檛 sit down.鈥�

What鈥檚 more, rather than emblazoning Burly with a corporate logo, the rear window of the van listed the 14 states of the AT, which Dower systematically crossed out as she reached each border. More prominent on the window, though, was a call for , a nonprofit that teaches kids through physical education. When Dower reached Springer Mountain, she鈥檇 raised $21,000 of her $20,000 goal for the organization.

I spoke with Dower a half-dozen times during her trek. I rarely got the sense she was frustrated, angry, or even in much pain. She laughed a lot, making jokes about the bugs she swallowed or her struggles with the rains of New England and the resulting sores on her feet. She seemed, more or less, like the same lighthearted person I鈥檇 met on trail in 2019: Candy Mama, just with a tougher shell. It was inspiring to witness, really, an old friend realizing new potential without forsaking herself in the process..

Endurance athletes often talk about grinding through our favorite activities, the very things we do for fun. I鈥檓 as guilty as anyone of these complaints. But as Dower approached Newfound Gap, at the border between Tennessee and North Carolina, it finally struck me that she had instead chosen to glide through this challenge, and toward this astonishing endurance record. She could, however, probably do without swallowing bugs.

The post This Hiker Just Smashed the Speed Record on the Appalachian Trail appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Baxter State Park is a busy place as the fall hiking season draws to a close. The energy in the park is invariably buzzing: families are getting in their last trips before school, leaf-peepers are making the pilgrimage to see the changing foliage, and Appalachian Trail thru-hikers are making their way to the summit of Katahdin. For years, restrictions around the AT鈥檚 northern terminus have caused the park to gain notoriety among thru-hikers. For some long-distance hikers bringing their journeys to a close, navigating the park鈥檚 crowds and camping reservation system can feel uninviting at best, and like a downright stressful end to the trip of a lifetime at worst.

In 2015, tensions between thru-hikers and park administration came to a head when ultrarunner on the AT and celebrated with his team with a bottle of champagne on the summit of Katahdin. Officials him for consumption of alcohol inside the park, hiking with a group larger than 12, and littering (spraying champagne in the air). The incident kicked off a debate about the commercialization of the outdoors and the park鈥檚 relationship with AT hikers.

A few weeks later, I made my way to the northern terminus feeling anxious about . Word on the trail was that the rangers were mad at the example Jurek had set for other long-distance hikers, and that they were strictly enforcing rules to fight back. At that time, Katahdin already had the reputation of being a logistical challenge for long-distance backpackers: standard campsites fill up months in advance, and the park has just one 12-person walkup shelter reserved for thru-hikers. As rangers were up in arms about the regulations, thru-hikers like myself felt entitled after traveling 2,200 miles to make it to Katahdin, and might鈥檝e even considered breaking the park鈥檚 rules if the camping reservation process proved difficult to follow.

The scene I found upon my arrival was nothing like my nightmares. The Birches shelter, where thru-hikers can camp, was far from full. And it was actually really easy to follow the rules: My trail partner and I picked up permits for Katahdin before waking at 3 a.m. for a sunrise summit. At the time, my anxieties about finishing my hike at the northern terminus left me wondering how we got here鈥攁nd even whether there might be a place better-suited to handling the AT鈥檚 growing crowds. Katahdin could live without thru-hikers, but could thru-hikers live without Katahdin?

While Baxter State Park itself is home to hundreds of miles of trails, it鈥檚 best known for Mt. Katahdin, which sees the majority of traffic within the region. The park faces a unique challenge in that it鈥檚 not only the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, but it鈥檚 also held in a trust with very specific guidelines surrounding its management. The park鈥檚 former owner, Percival P. Baxter, released it for public use in 1931 under an endowment that required limiting vehicle size and the number of campsites within the park. As a result, officials are not allowed to develop new campsites even as the park becomes more popular.

Leah Beck, the Maine Regional Manager for the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC), told me that in 2015, officials realized they needed to come up with a plan to balance thru-hikers鈥� and visitors鈥� needs with park regulations. While 2015 was the most notable example of the strain between hikers and rangers in the park鈥檚 history, every year, a few hikers set a poor example in Baxter State Park by doing things like 鈥渟tealth camping鈥� in undesignated areas and otherwise ignoring the rules.

One of the ways that officials have monitored unruly hikers is by crowdsourcing information both in Maine and south of the region. Baxter State Park, Search and Rescue members, and the Appalachian Trail Conservancy regularly work together to create awareness about big groups of hikers or known rebels who are headed to Katahdin. Since a monthly meeting was established to address these issues, 鈥渨e hear very few reports of any summit behavior issues,鈥� said Beck.

In addition to regularly discussing community and hiker concerns in the region, an ATC ranger is stationed at Abol Bridge鈥攖he gateway into 鈥攖o assist hikers looking to find camping. It鈥檚 often easier than many thru-hikers imagine, since the thru-hiker shelter seldom fills up. When it does, rangers help hikers find other legal camping options in or near the park

鈥淚t鈥檚 actually less common than people think for the Birches to be full and for them not to have additional sites at Katahdin Stream or another campground,鈥� said Beck.

Baxter State Park Ranger Bruce White told me that nearly 3,000 thru-hikers came through the park in 2022 compared to about 2,000 in 2015. Yet the park鈥檚 rules and regulations remain largely the same.

鈥淎s far as restrictions, there really aren鈥檛 a whole lot other than we do require them to be in designated campsites,鈥� he said. 鈥溾��.But I think there鈥檚 a little animosity. People feel that they won鈥檛 get a site in Baxter Park. And in August that is a possibility.鈥�

Occasionally, the park receives really big groups of thru-hikers, which causes another technical strain on the trail since group sizes are limited to 12 people within the park. Adhering to this regulation forces officials and hikers to collaborate to ensure that the park remains within its legal trust limits.

White added that since 2015, the nearby town of Monson has also made it much easier for hikers to shuttle to and from the park, with several privately-owned businesses like offering rides to reduce the stress of finding a camp spot in park bounds. Still, since Baxter State Park cannot legally change campsites and permits issued to accommodate growing traffic, if hiker numbers keep growing, there will come a point when it will have to turn people away with more regularity.

Interestingly, Katahdin wasn鈥檛 always the end point of the AT. When the idea of the Appalachian Trail was born, according to Beck, the original maps Benton MacKaye drew designated Mt. Washington as the northern terminus, with potential extensions or 鈥渂ranch trails.鈥� One of those branches became the 330-mile route between Mt. Washington and Katahdin that hikers tackle today. It wasn鈥檛 until four years after that early map that Katahdin was labeled as the northern terminus, and the designation became official in 1928. As of 2024, Mt. Washington is the only northern terminus aside from Katahdin to ever formally be considered.

A benefit of considering an alternate terminus is that there may be fewer camping and summiting restrictions in place, which could alleviate some of the stress of finishing the trail. The ATC suggests that moving the northern terminus to a location with fewer legal limitations could resolve some of the camping and usage issues of Baxter State Park, but wouldn鈥檛 solve problems related to hiker behavior.

鈥淢oving the terminus to an area with different management mandates will likely have no impact on the behavior of the very small percentage of AT hikers causing the problem,鈥� said Beck. 鈥淭here could be fewer restrictions for them to bump up against, depending on where the terminus moves, but the problem behavior will still exist.鈥�

Despite recognizing some of the benefits of an alternative northern terminus, neither the ATC nor Baxter State Park currently has plans in place to advocate for such a monumental change. Doing so would involve obtaining trail rights in areas where they don鈥檛 already exist, and working with private landowners to acquire access in non-public areas.

Thru-hikers鈥� anxieties remain high during peak season and in October, when the park seasonally closes Mt. Katahdin to hiker traffic. Even in optimal conditions, climbing Katahdin involves light bouldering, lugging yourself up iron rungs, and tackling extremely steep terrain. When winter comes, those conditions are generally considered to be unsafe for hikers by Baxter State Park.

Even if authorities decide that a change as drastic as moving the terminus is eventually necessary, that point would be years away at least. The number of hikers on the AT has held steady or even dropped since Covid, suggesting that nothing needs to change yet. But growing interest in one of America鈥檚 most beautiful and difficult trails could flip the narrative.

The post Mount Katahdin is a Logistical Nightmare. Is it Time to Move the AT鈥檚 Northern Terminus? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Hi Tough Love readers! We鈥檙e trying something new with this column. I came across this question on , from a woman who鈥檚 not sure if she should pressure her husband to finish thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. It鈥檚 his lifelong dream, but he鈥檚 miserable, and she worries about his mental health if he quits. My heart went out to the couple. I don鈥檛 know if they鈥檒l find this response, but maybe the answer will reach someone else in a similar situation. (The post below has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity).

My husband is currently NOBO on the AT and is not enjoying the experience at all. He鈥檚 been dreaming of doing the AT since he was about 12 (he鈥檚 in his fifties now) and over the years, he has read every book, watched every documentary, done so much research, etc. He鈥檚 healthy and is under no time constraints and we are fine financially to cover whatever he needs. But he is miserable. We鈥檝e been married for almost 25 years, so I know him well, and I know that if he quits, he will seriously regret it later and that could lead to some very challenging (if not dangerous) mental health issues. So I want to keep encouraging him to continue.

At the same time, I feel like I鈥檓 almost 鈥渇orcing鈥� him to keep doing something he鈥檚 hating. So I鈥檓 not sure what the right thing to do is or how best to support him. Finishing the trail would have so many benefits for him, whereas quitting would open the door to a lot of bad things. I鈥檓 not sure where the line is between supporting him in being okay with leaving the trail and pushing him to do something I know he鈥檒l be happy with in the end. Does anyone have any experience with this on either side and could offer insight? Or any hikers have ideas of what I could do? Thank you in advance!

Before I ran the Iditarod, I was terrified that I wouldn鈥檛 finish. My husband and I had sacrificed so much: years of work, any semblance of routine, and our financial stability, all in pursuit of this goal. Most of all, I thought of the wonderful people who supported me: sponsors and fans of the team who sent letters and bought dog booties and cheered us on every step of the way. I felt like I was gambling years of our lives, and extraordinary amounts of other peoples鈥� kindness, on a dream that听 might not pan out.

Plus, I had a second fear: that after all that exhausting, extraordinary effort, if I didn鈥檛 finish the Iditarod, I wouldn鈥檛 be able to rest until I did. And I was tired! I wanted to rest. It wasn鈥檛 that I was averse to running the race a second time. But if I did, I wanted it to be for the experience alone; not because my life felt unfinished without it.

And so, as we drove to the opening banquet, I asked my husband to not let me quit. As long as the dogs were happy, I told him, he should pressure me to keep going. I assumed he鈥檇 be happy to oblige. But he didn鈥檛 answer for a long time. He kept his eyes on the road.

The longer we sat in silence, the more nervous I felt.

鈥淚t鈥檚 not up to me,鈥� he said finally.

鈥淚 know,鈥� I said. But I also knew that I wouldn鈥檛 let myself stop if he asked me not to. We鈥檇 prepared everything together. It felt like our race, not just mine.

He shook his head firmly now. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want that to be my role. If you want to scratch, that鈥檚 not a choice you鈥檇 make lightly. I鈥檓 going to support whatever you choose. I want you to know I鈥檓 always on your side.鈥�

Right now, you鈥檙e in the same position that my husband was imagining (and dreading). You want to be on your husband鈥檚 side鈥攂ut which side is that? The side he鈥檚 on now, or the side of his imagined future self?

Here鈥檚 some mushing wisdom: never, ever scratch from a race right after you reach a checkpoint. That鈥檚 when you鈥檙e depleted. You鈥檙e freezing. You鈥檙e not thinking clearly. You should get yourself back to baseline, or as close to it as you can. Care for your dogs. Eat. Warm up. Above all, sleep. Let the clock run. And only when you鈥檙e full, dry, and rested should you approach the question of continuing.

When does your husband most want to quit? Is it while he鈥檚 hiking? At night? When he wakes up in his tent? The times that he fantasizes most about quitting are exactly when he should avoid making that decision. So when he talks to you about , assure him that he can, but now鈥檚 not the time to do it. Do his feet hurt? Is he covered in mosquito bites? Figure out his limiting factors, and address them first. Get him a hotel room in town, where he can soak in a hot bath and take a few days off. Let his body rest before his mind has to decide.

Once he鈥檚 rested, does he still want to quit? If so, see if he鈥檚 open to shortening his goal distance, rather than stopping outright. Maybe he doesn鈥檛 need to finish the whole dang trail at the summit of Mount Katahdin. He could, for example, aim for the thousand-mile mark instead. Or he could try to cross the border into the next state, then reconsider stopping. Looking back, there鈥檚 a huge difference between 鈥淚 quit the AT,鈥� and 鈥淚 hiked 1,000 miles of the AT鈥� or even 鈥淚 walked across three states.鈥� Reaching a smaller goal鈥攖hat鈥檚 still a goal!鈥攇ives him an accomplishment he can tell people about, and a story that matters.

And of course, once he achieves that feat, he can choose to continue too. One hundred more miles. One more state line. Then, when he gets there, he can quit with pride鈥攗nless he chooses, once again, to keep going. Step by step, goal by goal, with countless little victories along the way.

Finally, he should know that if he quits outright, that鈥檚 okay too. But more importantly, if his mental health is truly precarious, then working on that should be his鈥攁nd your鈥攑rimary goal. Hiking the AT isn鈥檛 a band-aid for mental illness, and finishing the trail might be a triumph, but it鈥檚 not a short- or long-term solution.

I鈥檓 incredibly proud and grateful that I finished the Iditarod. But my primary fear about dropping out鈥攖hat doing so would mean letting people down鈥攑roved unfounded. A few hundred miles into the race, a musher I admired made the hard choice to scratch. I saw how devastated she was鈥攁nd I also saw the outpouring of love and support she received for making such a difficult choice. It touched my heart deeply. I realized that the folks who supported us athletes did so because they cared about our journeys, our adventures, and our best judgments, not just our finish lines. I felt, too, deep admiration for her choice to scratch. It wasn鈥檛 a weak decision, I saw. It was a brave one.

I still desperately wanted to finish, but not because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn鈥檛. It took risking the heartbreak of failure to realize that as long as I cared for myself and my team, I wouldn鈥檛 be letting anyone down鈥攊ncluding myself. I hope that, with your help, your husband can reach the same clarity.

If you or a loved one are experiencing a mental health crisis, you may call or text 988 for 24/7, free and confidential support from the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. For more information, visit .

The post Want to Quit Your听Thru听Hike? First, Do This. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

In late May, published her memoir about hiking the Appalachian Trail. A week later, Curtis, who is also known by her trail name 鈥淒ragonsky,鈥� completed the final leg of the 2,190-mile pathway.

Her journey had begun nearly four years earlier. In 2020, Curtis鈥攗nemployed after COVID-19 ravaged the veterinary office where she worked, her longtime struggles with mental health then spiraling鈥攈ad heard about the iconic American footpath during a stroll in a New York state park. The idea of walking from Georgia to Maine filled her with wonder and intrigue, providing a sense of possibility during that deeply bleak spell. But as she began to explore the logistics of a thru-hike, the barriers to entry for a Black queer woman who had long struggled with suicidal ideation and hospitalization seemed immense, from encountering potential racism to affording the privilege of not working. After solidifying a clutch of sponsorships and a gig writing for the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, Curtis, then 28, set out from Springer Mountain in February 2021, finishing the bulk of the trail by that November.

shares the story not only of the trail but the travails that led Curtis to it. One of the most unflinching and candid Appalachian Trail memoirs in recent memory, it frames the trail as a kind of existential test, a gauntlet by which you can decide if you want to carry on鈥攏orthward to Maine, onward with life. And so, when Curtis, now 32, knocked out those final miles just after releasing Pack Light in May, it was its own kind of happy ending, a proof of a life sustained and enhanced by going outside.

OUTSIDE: Your journey on the Appalachian Trail began, at least in part, with a question you posted to Facebook that generated lots of attention: 鈥淪hould I be concerned as a Black woman hiking in the South?鈥� Now that you鈥檝e finished it, how would you have responded to your own question?
I would not do the AT again. It鈥檚 not the trail where I feel safest. I would section hike it, yes, but I don鈥檛 feel safe hiking through Eastern Tennessee, Georgia, or southern Virginia. But the Continental Divide Trail is the best experience of my life, and I want to do it again and again and again. I remember starting in East Glacier, Montana, and I was sitting around with all these queer thru-hikers, people of color, international people. People were looking out for me on the CDT鈥斺�榃atch out for Lincoln, watch out for this town.鈥� They had my six. And in New Mexico, people were hugging me, telling me I鈥檓 beautiful, giving me water. There is such a difference between the West and the history of the Appalachians鈥攖he heavy Civil War history, the history of enslavement, the Confederacy. On the AT, I would still be concerned about my safety.

How early in your Appalachian Trail hike did you first feel threatened?
I was setting up my tent within the first two weeks, and a white man comes over to me and says, 鈥淗ow can you say the word 鈥榥___鈥� and I can鈥檛?鈥� I don鈥檛 know who this man is, and he immediately starts talking about how he has a Black niece. I was flabbergasted, mouth ajar. He said, 鈥淚 just want to have this conversation, because you鈥檙e the first Black person I saw on trail.鈥� And then I was featured in the Appalachian Trail鈥檚 magazine, and someone saw it. 鈥淚 know who you are,鈥� he said, immediately just mad. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e the racist that writes about racism, and you get handouts.鈥� And another white hiker was in the corner, and he says, 鈥淚 understand what it鈥檚 like to be you, because I am white and poor.鈥� I went off, because everyone in this room had just said they were allies. But they were sitting in silence, looking at me like I鈥檓 the villain for speaking up.

You have suggested compiling a for hiking, similar to the 鈥淏ible of Black travel鈥� that guided folks to safe resources during Jim Crow. And on the Continental Divide Trail, you would sometimes leave comments on the FarOut app advising people of color not to visit certain places. What would a Green Book look like on trail?
On the AT, I was very careful about what I was writing in FarOut or trail registers. That was my first hike, so I was not as outspoken. When I saw one hostel with a Confederate flag, though, I said that. But I wasn鈥檛 like 鈥淗ey, BIPOC LGBTQIA, this is a good place. Look out for this!鈥� But I got injured in 2022 on the CDT, so I thought about how I could create awareness on trail. I was also hiking with two trans folks, so I thought I needed to take a stand, to use my platform to say what these towns are like. The things they have to think about, I don鈥檛 have to worry about. People were looking out for me, so I wanted to look out for people.

I show up on trail. I hike. But, as an individual, I can only do so much. I have a platform. I can call out companies, like talking about access to gear. But looking at the Green Book and what it was used for in the past, I thought, 鈥淗ow can I create change?鈥� There are places that are sketch. But there are places like Woods Hole and Angel鈥檚 Rest in Virginia and The Notch Hostel in New Hampshire where you have real allies. I don鈥檛 want people to get into a situation like I got into鈥攖ired and hypothermic, at a hostel with a Confederate flag and people following me. 鈥淥K, what do I do now?鈥� The Green Book is a project that would entail me going back through the trails, but I feel very passionate about it. I want other people who look like me to have good experiences, to feel welcomed. I want to say, 鈥淗ere are safe places, people who will really advocate for you.鈥� We鈥檙e not going to continue a cycle of silence.

Your hiking life also began with this childlike wonder at the very possibility of walking from Georgia to Maine. You鈥檝e done that now, as well as the CDT. So why do you hike right now?
The mountains show me that I want to live. Any time I take a step on a mountain, I know there鈥檚 a drop right here. But I am being cautious, because I am choosing to live. That鈥檚 what mountains and the AT really taught me about life: When I鈥檓 feeling depressed and I have suicidal ideation, I think, 鈥淕o to the mountains. If you鈥檙e standing on the edge, you鈥檙e not going to want to fall off that ridge.鈥� When I started the AT, I thought it was about representation for me. That鈥檚 still true, but I had to dig deeper into myself to say, 鈥淲hat do I want?鈥� It was thru-hiking that first taught me that I really want to live. No matter what, I can run to the mountains, scream, throw rocks, hug trees, stick my face in the river, dance. That makes me choose life.

The Appalachian Trail Conservancy helped fund your first hike after a staff member saw that first Facebook post about race. You鈥檝e talked about how much that changed your life and sense of possibility. Are these direct diversity grants, scholarships, and gigs the fastest way to boost representation on trail?
The Appalachian Trail Conservancy really gave me wings to fly. I鈥檇 just lost my job. It was COVID. I was mourning my job. I didn鈥檛 know how life would make the way to hike. But I felt heard. And that is how you make change, pouring your money into representation of people you don鈥檛 normally see on trail鈥攓ueer people, people of color. If you want to see representation, you have to meet people halfway.

But I wouldn鈥檛 say it鈥檚 the fastest route. I don鈥檛 think you can just throw money at anything and fix it. It鈥檚 more in combination with education about representation. I wouldn鈥檛 have gotten on trail if I hadn鈥檛 researched if Black people actually did this and come across and . Seeing someone that looks like you in conjunction with funding in conjunction with reflecting [diversity with] your staff. I grew up in north New Jersey, so this was white people shit. I was even in Atlanta last week, and people were still like, 鈥淏lack people don鈥檛 hike!鈥� I do.

The post Shilletha 鈥淒ragonsky鈥� Curtis Wants to Write a Green Book for Thru-Hikers appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

In a fast-changing world, the permanence of our favorite hiking trails is comforting. Apart from the occasional closure, reroute, or , most of us could go back and hike the same miles again and again, and enjoy the enduring views. But decades from now, will that still be true?

With the help of the National Park Service鈥檚 historical photo archive, we鈥檝e collected nine photos of popular American trails taken between 1930 and 1996. You鈥檝e probably heard of most, if not all, of these well-visited spots. See if you can recognize what they looked like back in the day; you鈥檒l want to pay attention to geological formations, the skyline, and the few clues we鈥檝e offered you. Scroll to the end for the answers.

1.

This trail is a household name in the US and around the world, with more than 10,000 people having finished it. But it wasn鈥檛 always that way, especially in the decades before the hike enjoyed the amenities it does now.

2.

This burly hike is the most straightforward way up one of the National Parks鈥� most iconic peaks, but that doesn鈥檛 mean it鈥檚 easy. Hikers who brave it still need to keep an eye on the weather and watch out for snow that could send them tumbling down a steep drop.

3.

Want to hike this popular trek in the desert southwest? Hope you鈥檙e ready to get wet. Whether you do it as a dayhike or an overnight, you鈥檒l spend miles wading up a river and marveling at the geological scenery.

4.

This might as well be America鈥檚 national hike. In the 100 years since construction began on it, it鈥檚 drawn millions of day-, section-, and thru-hikers, and has become a byword for finding yourself.

5.

As you might guess from the retro-casual apparel, this hike is more of a stroll than a true wilderness experience. But the wildlife鈥攚hich is bigger and toothier than most national parks鈥欌�攊s enough to capture your attention.

6.

It鈥檚 still possible to traverse this iconic, steep trail by mule. But today most visitors who brave it carry their own gear, with a few hardy souls attempting to run it.

7.

Look hard at this black-and-white snapshot, and it may begin to look familiar: Some of the most famous scenery in one of America鈥檚 most beloved national parks is visible in this mid-trail picture.

8.

You鈥檒l need a permit nowadays to hike this famous high-country trail, which crosses through three different national parks over its span.

9.

All right, so it鈥檚 not technically a hike. But this ultra-classic (and ultra-ultra-popular) lookout is accessible by a number of different trails. (Start early, and carpool if you can.)

Answers

1. Pacific Crest Trail. In this undated archival photo, hiker Dick Kerns poses next to Tunnel Falls on an Oregon section of the trail which doubles as a beloved local dayhike, the Eagle Creek Trail.
2. Keyhole Route, Longs Peak, Rocky Mountain National Park. The rock formation that gave one of RMNP鈥檚 premier hikes its name is visible in this undated archival photo.
3. The Narrows, Zion National Park. A group of hikers enter the Narrows via Deep Creek in this 1955 snapshot.
4. Appalachian Trail. It鈥檚 a little hard to tell where on the AT photographer Richard Frear snapped this undated photo, but it鈥檚 a safe bet that hikers are still enjoying that scenery today.
5. Anhinga Trail, Everglades National Park. This 0.8-mile boardwalk, pictured in 1971, traverses a freshwater sawgrass marsh. A variety of birds鈥攁s well as alligators鈥攁re common sights there.
6. Bright Angel Trail, Grand Canyon National Park. Bright Angel was considerably quieter in 1930, when this photo was snapped.
7. West Rim Trail, Zion National Park. Visible from left to right, eagle-eyed viewers will spot the Great White Throne, Angels Landing, Gothic Arch, and East Temple, all snapped in 1932.
8. John Muir Trail. The alpine lake and peaks of Evolution Basin tower over the trail, which runs concurrently with the PCT at the spot, in this 1976 photo from Kings Canyon.
9. Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park. Back in 1996 when this photo was snapped, anyone could drive to the top; starting in 2019, however, the national park began requiring reservations. Yet another reason to hoof it.

Lead Image: A snowy scene high on the Pacific Crest Trail

The post Can You Name the Trails in These Historic Photographs? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.