My first backpacking trip was with Boy Scout Troop 44 out of Blacksburg, VA. It was the first backpacking trip for a lot of us, actually; Troop 44 was known not for hiking but for cooking. Under the tutelage of the great Arthur "Torchy" Walrath, who literally wrote the book on camp cooking (check out Camp Cookery for Small Groups at Amazon.com), Troop 44 became the Bobby Flay of the Blue Ridge Mountain District.
The hike was part of an attempt at the BSA's 50 Miler Award: if you travel 50 miles by foot or by float (or a combination of both), spend a certain number of nights out in the woods, and do a service project, then you too can get the BSA's 50 Miler Award and sew the patch onto your pack. Wear it with pride.
Our 50 miler was a combination float/foot attempt. We went about 25 miles down the New River in canoes, and would do the rest on first by hiking on the AT. On the second day of the trip we hopped out of our canoes near Pearisburg and hoofed it towards one of the mountains towering over the town, Angel's Rest.
The first day of walking was difficult. We had canoed 13 miles into the wind, had to wait for quite sometime for our packs to arrive, and then had to walk through Pearisburg to the base of Angel's Rest. By the time we got there it had started to rain (naturally). This filled me with fear, becuase the prevailing wisdom on Angel's Rest, as shared by the older scouts, was that it was akin to scaling the Matterhorn, the trail so steep in places that you could reach out and touch it. They were all exagerating of course, but Angel's Rest still does present a challenge. With all the rain coming down, how on earth would we ever make it to the top?
We were just about to start up when the trail was filled by a giant, towering over us in green rain gear with a HUGE pack. He was an older gentleman (50?) one his way into Pearisburg and he stopped for a spell to talk with us. We asked him where he was going and he told us.
Georgia.
He explained that he was thru-hiking the Appalachain Trail and that it ran from Maine to Georgia. It was the first I had ever heard of this. You may be surprised to know that, but remember I was 12, and when you are 12 there are a lot of things you don't know. Amazingly enough, I did meet some people during my hike who didn't realize the trail they were walking on extended for hundreds and hundreds of miles in both directions.
Anyway, the idea that one would chose to walk that far was mind blowing. I am not saying I vowed that day and there to hike the AT, but I thought that it must make for a great adventure. A seed definetly was planted.
I remember a lot about the first trip. The troop mothers had given every other person a stick of summer sausage, and it played havoc with our digestion and was a greasy burden. I am amazed that we were not attacked by bears. Everytime we stopped for a breather my Dad would go around with what remained of his summer sausage and knife and ask people if they wanted some, and cut you off a piece whether you wanted one or not.
My Dad also betrayed a skill for forecasting the weather, which I have learned in subsequent years is something he pays a fair amount of attention to, as do I. He became a kind of oracle. We would ask him if we should set up tents or if it would be okay to sleep under the stars, and he'd give us a judgement based on the clouds and the way the wind was blowing (or maybe he had spirited a radio along with him, I don't know). He was never wrong.
The hike wasn't easy. We didn't have the best equipment, we didn't have the most weight efficient food, we didn't know that we didn't need a good deal of what we had brought with us. One guy "got it". He was a cross country runner, a really good cross country runner, and obviously understood that in a game of distances lighter is better. You could pick up his pack with one finger. Even on my best days on the AT, I could never make such a boast.
In spite of the difficulties and many aches and pains, we were successful. To get the patch we had to camp out one additional night, and so we camped out at one of the Scoutmaster's houses. In an obvious lapse of judgement (a rare thing), they decided to show us "Deliverance", becuase one of the guys who we met while canoeing sort of looked like some guy playing the banjo on a bridge in the film. My glasses broke, and my Dad and I spent the entire movie trying to fix them. We couldn't find any screws so we had to track down some wire and tape; I think my Dad may have stalled on purpose so I couldn't watch the movie. For this I am grateful. It would have been too much. He's a good man.
So that was the first trip. There were more, and eventually there was a small group of scouts and leaders who had things pretty well figured out. When I started hiking the AT for keeps, I considered myself an avid hiker.
But as it turned out, I still had much to learn.
How is that for a cliffhanger! Stay tuned for more.
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