Introduction

One year ago today was the last day of my former life. The last day before I could (tentatively) begin to call myself a thru-hiker. The last day before my identity would be forever changed. One year ago today, I was an aspirant but untested outdoorsman. An out of shape 29-year-old falling into a mountain stream at the base of one of New England’s legendary mountain summits. I had never forded a swollen mountain stream, climbed the face of a mountain, or sheltered outside in 10 degree weather. One year ago today was the beginning of something incredible.

My name is Skymall (Adam), and this is my Appalachian Trail story.

I grew up in a post-industrial steel and mining town east of Pittsburgh PA. My childhood was spent climbing trees, building tree forts, and playing in streams. Our family camped throughout Pennsylvania for our yearly vacations. In my early teenage years, I was an avid hunter and fisherman. But like I imagine many people in my generation, I fell away from my love of the outdoors in my late teenage years. As I started college and experienced the freedom of having my own car, outdoor reaction was no longer my only form of entertainment. I never stopped loving the outdoors; I just stopped putting in the effort to get out there and enjoy it.

That’s where West Virginia comes in.

After graduating from occupational therapy school in 2015, I became a traveling therapist. I tried to stay relatively close to home at first, attempting to maintain a relationship which ultimately did not work out. I found myself taking work contracts a bit further from home, and ended up in southern West Virginia for nine months in 2018. As it turns out, rural West Virginia isn’t exactly bustling with entertainment, night life, and events. Searching for something to do, I decided to go for a hike. I had seen an interesting looking old fire tower on the West Virginia tourism Instagram that was about an hour’s drive away. I gathered my old camera equipment which I hadn’t used in a few years, and took off early on a winter morning to see the sunrise there.

Frosty morning atop Peters Mountain, West Virginia.

I didn’t have appropriate clothing for the conditions, my old camera batteries died before I could take many pictures, and I almost got frostbite, but watching the sunrise over those mountains changed me. I knew in that moment that I needed to watch more sunrises and see more of the mountains. So I updated my camera equipment and began hiking nearly every weekend. I traveled to the Blue Ridge mountain range and to the southwest corner of Virginia in search of more beautiful overlooks. I frequently found that some of the most beautiful locations I could find were all on or near the Appalachian Trail.

I was vaguely familiar with the Appalachian Trail. I knew it was a really long trail that traveled much of the east coast. I knew it went through Shenandoah and Great Smoky Mountains National Parks. I knew it traveled through remote countryside and mountaintops. I had seen the Appalachian Trail sign crossing over the Pennsylvania Turnpike as a child. I didn’t know people hiked it end to end. I didn’t know that backpacking could mean going out for more than a week. And I didn’t know that I was about to get a backpacking dream that I couldn’t shake.

Summer sunrise above the Blue Ridge Parkway, Virginia.

Soon I found myself going down the rabbit hole of watching videos from prior thru-hikers (those who hike the whole trail end to end) and reading stories about what it’s like to live in the woods for weeks at at time. It didn’t sound pleasant or appealing, yet the thought of walking 2000 miles through the mountains still called to me. I’ve always been one to enjoy an absurd-sounding challenge. Hiking the entire Appalachian Trail at once certainly fit the bill.

I read a few books, bought a few hiking guides and tried to talk myself out of such an endeavor. This was a crazy idea. It would make so much more sense to continue working, make money, experience fine dining and a comfortable living. I tried to shake the idea any way I could, but it just kept coming back. I wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail. I needed to hike the Appalachian Trail.

So one year ago today I found myself climbing into a sleeping bag at the base of Maine’s tallest mountain. I was a few hours away from the most difficult mountain ascent I had ever attempted, followed by a trip into 100 miles of wilderness, and then I planned to just keep walking until I stepped into Georgia. The journey before me boasted an 80% failure rate. A year ago today I had no idea just what I was in for. But one year ago today was the day before the best experience of my life. ◾️

The Preparation