This is the first of my series of 2025 transcriptions of my journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Thru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes between the finish of the AT in August and heading off to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. Photos are scans of my original prints.
March
13, Frosty Mtn. Bivouac, 3.2 miles
I
think it is fitting that my guidebook failed me even before I got to the trail.
I flew down to Atlanta from Providence (with my parents and sister who were
headed to Florida for a more conventional spring break) and then took an
airport bus to the main bus station. Neither Greyhound nor Bonanza had a bus
heading to Dawsonville (as advertised) and the closest I could get was
Gainesville. (The important lesson here was that guidebooks are not always up
to date, particularly with respect to man-made features).
While
on the bus to Gainesville I got into a conversation with another guy with a
backpack. His name was Lance, and he was also on his way to the Appalachian
Trail to hike. When we arrived in Gainesville, we agreed to split cab fare to
Amicalola Falls State Park. The fare for me was $10. This was the point where I
realized that the AT might cost me much more than I had thought. But
considering some of the other stories I heard later about hitchhiking to Amicalola,
I was glad I’d paid the money.
The
driver was kind enough to take us to the top of the falls. While Lance
reorganized the food he’d bought along the way, I went back down to the bottom
of the falls to get stove fuel. I couldn’t have brought fuel on the plane, and
had forgotten to stop along the way to fill up. I was lucky to catch another
ride back up to the top of the falls.
I
was really impressed with the falls. I think Laurel Fork Falls in TN was the
only one along the trail that could match it.
With our late start, we only hiked three miles that day. I set up my tarp/tube tent at the site of the old Frost Mountain Fire tower. Lance was better than I at setting up the tarp, I never got the hang of setting it up. (This was another important lesson; except for a short stretch in the middle of the trip, there were enough other thru-hikers around for company and support). The night was a little colder than I expected, but I had enough clothing to stay comfortable.
March
14, Hawk Mountain Shelter, 10.3 miles
My
first day on the Appalachian Trail. It seemed to be a long walk just to get to
the top of Springer Mountain. Lance took a picture of me on top at the Southern
Terminus. There were a lot of hikers coming down Springer, one of whom was Alan
Heinrich, who I would meet later in the trip.
I
spent the night at Hawk Mountain Shelter (and would spend most of my trail
nights in similar shelters). The highlight of the hike was the falls at Hickory
Flats. The falls didn’t compare with Amicalola, but still was pretty. I also
noticed the deep red soil of Georgia. The red clay seemed especially prominent
in the lowlands where the rhododendron flourished.
When
Lance and I reached Hawk Mountain we found another hiker set up in the corner
of the shelter. We got to talking and he told me his name was Eric Heinrich,
and that he was also planning to hike to Maine. (My journal does not note it
here, but Eric was a 1975 thru-hiker looking to repeat the trail. He was about
my age and obviously in position to be a huge help to me in my AT how-to.) Eric
had some very non-essential equipment including a spatula, a recorder, and more
food than he could eat. We agreed to hike together the next day. (“Hiking
together” on the AT usually meant more like camping together. I think we all
like to have some company in camp, though we most often hiked apart at our own
paces.) The next day Lance planned to go into Titus for food. My journal noted
“Spent a few hours here since we got in early. Washed up and feel great.”
(Putting in a ten-mile day with no problems early in the hike was a great
sign.)
 |
| Springer Mountain and the start of the Appalachian Trail. |
March 15, Gooch Gap Shelter, 9.1 miles
This
was my first rainy day of the hike. I made two important, if not profound,
discoveries. First of all, I needed a longer rain cover for my backpack. Mine
was an older model that I used with my old backpack (a canvas Camp Trails frame
pack that I had got at summer camp.) My new Kelty Tioga was a lot larger, and left
much of my sleeping bag was exposed to the elements. Eric had a new rain cover
with a drawstring at the bottom. My second discovery was that I didn’t like to
hike in the rain.
During
the night we were woken up by the sounds of a battle. A US Army Ranger Group
was training in the area. The sounds were quite realistic. Luckily, I’d read
that these training exercises were common, so I did not panic. However, Lance
was not aware of this, and spent the whole night wondering what was going on.
My journal contains an entry about my breakfast of granola and Tang. I found it “quite satisfying.” But my under planning of my food supplies had not shown up yet, and we had only covered nine miles. The trail was typical of the Georgia AT. There were no long steady climbs, but a great deal of up and down, The trail seemed to go over every knob in the area.
March
16, Tesnatee Gap Bivouac, 20.2 miles
This
was the worst day of the entire trip. My problem was that I walked 20 miles
(easily a record for me) in freezing cold weather only to find that my planned
shelter for the night had been torn down.
The
rain stopped early in the morning. But when Eric and I got to Slaughter Gap,
the wind started to blow. By the time I got to the summit of Blood Mountain the
weather had turned cold. I thought it was our elevation 4461’, that was making
it cold.
Both
my fact sheet and the guidebook noted that there was a shelter at Tesnatee Gap.
Eric told me the shelter had been moved down a side trail. I decided to push on
while Eric decided to stay at the shelter at Blood Mountain. (I’m not sure why
I didn’t stay with the experienced guy.)
The
descent off Blood Mountain was tricky. Ice was forming on the rocks. One step
onto the ice was likely to produce a fall. When I got to Neels Gap the store
was open. I got a hamburger and tried to call my parents, but the pay phone was
out of order. The walk to Tesnatee Gap was so cold I didn’t stop the whole way,
and was getting really cold.
When
I got to Tesnatee I saw a small figure inching down the trail. The people at
Blood Mountain had told me that a girl had spent the night there and was
heading north. We talked a while about where the shelter might be. I walked a
while down a well-travelled side trail and decided that it must lead to the
shelter. But, after I walked about two miles, the trail ended at a stream. I
walked back up to the main trail. The girl, whom I found out later was called
S.G., had set up her tent near the trail.
By
now it was almost dark. I set my tarp down in the parking lot by the highway,
which was the only level area I could find. I was so tired that I skipped
dinner and just crawled into my sleeping bag to go to sleep. I had walked over
20 miles on the trail, plus whatever miles I had done looking for the shelter.
The wind ripped through the gap. It was freezing. It was so cold that I just lay in my bag, not wanting to crawl out and look for a better spot.
March
17, Rocky Knob Shelter, 12.1 miles
I
guess I managed to sleep some that night. I got up early so I could get moving,
and try to warm myself up. However, Mother Nature had other plans for me. My
boots were so cold overnight that they had frozen solid, and I couldn’t even
get them on. I wedged them down into my crotch to warm them up. My sleeping bag
was covered in ice from condensation. When I got up to go to the bathroom my
urine froze on a nearby rock.
Fortunately,
it wasn’t as cold as the day before. The shelter I had looked for was a few
miles up the AT. I was ready to kill Eric for telling me it was down in the
valley. The shelter was also a long way off the AT. I walked part way down the
trail toward it, but finally warmed up and returned to the AT.
I
ate lunch at Low Gap. The shelter was full of people, the first crowded spot
I’d seen on the trail. I ate a large lunch, especially since I’d had no dinner
or breakfast.
I
spent the night at Rocky Knob for a total of about 12 miles. I spent most of
the day lying in the sun (and trying to shake off the prior night’s cold). I
had a gross looking blister the size of a quarter on my left heel (my first
blister report of the hike) which bled through two pairs of socks. Now, I am
just lying in the sun planning dinner. Most of my things were thawed out,
except for my jeans and some of the ice in my canteen.
Much
of the crowd I’d seen earlier at Low Gap showed up at Rocky Knob Shelter. Lance
was there when I arrived, and Eric pulled in not long after me. Two other thru
hikers wee from Bristol, NH, Bill Morrison and Randy Wade. I didn’t hear from
either again until the Hurd Brook Lean-to in Maine. Bill Morrison had signed in
sometime in June, which led me to think that they might have quit their
thru-hike relatively early. S.G. also showed up. Bill had to work her stove for
her and lend her some food. I thought she wouldn’t make the whole hike, but saw
later that she had made it at least to Damascus.
 |
| Icicles along fire road. |
March 18, Addis Gap Shelter, 11.9 miles
This
was a day for a big surprise. Eric and I were talking about the rest of the
trail. He seemed to have been just about everywhere on the trail. Finally, I
asked him, “How do you know all this?’ He showed me the trail register from the
previous November, showing he had walked from Maine to Georgia. My mouth just
moved up and down, but nothing came out. I knew he was a very experienced
hiker, but to have done the whole trail before; I couldn’t believe it. (Eric
was from central Florida and had financed his trip by picking oranges in the
groves back home).
I
also got a good lesson in how fast the weather can change in the mountains. It
was 32F when we got up, but later in the morning I was hiking without my
t-shirt. This was the only time on the trip I tried hiking without a shirt. (I
never got comfortable with the feel of pack straps on my bare skin,)
The
trail offered a few good views, especially on Tray Mountain. This section was
well maintained, except for a few blowdowns. However, as is typical of Georgia,
the trail went up and over each and every knob. My feet were starting to feel
the punishment of the relentless hiking, but my legs were holding up. The cold
weather left me feeling good.
I
walked 12 miles to Addis Gap Shelter, one of the nicest in Georgia. This was
the first shelter I had used that had bunks. Even though I had only been out
for six days I could feel the effects of all my exertions. By then I realized
that I had vastly underestimated my need for food.
For company I had both Eric and Lance. But in the shelter with us there was a guy with a revolver, a big black dog, whiskey in a brown paper bag, and some hashish. He was paranoid about seeing bears, but the rest of us were much more afraid of an armed paranoid drunk than of any bear. Why he was out on the trail we didn’t know, but he scared the hell out of me.
March
19, Plum Orchard Gap Shelter, 10.0 miles
I
walked ten miles to Plumorchard Gap Shelter and took the afternoon off.
Throughout the first half of the thru-hike I took a few afternoons off. Taking
this time allowed me to catch up on chores that I’d been putting off such as
catching up with my journal, washing clothes, and writing letters. This time I
was also avoiding a Sunday arrival in Franklin, when the post office would be
closed.
Plumorchard
was my last night in Georgia. I was getting a little bored with the terrain, up
and over all the little knobs. It was still winter, and everything was gray or
brown. Since there were few evergreens, the only green was from the
rhododendrons. Georgia also seemed to have a lot of litter and few hikers.
I
took some time to fix my blisters and enjoy just being alone in the shelter.
Lance had gone off the trail for food and Eric had pushed ahead. I planned on
what gear I could ship back from Franklin. I had planned for fewer miles
through Georgia, but from now on I’d have to average 15 miles per day. I was
anxious to get rid of anything I did not need. Eventually I mailed seven pounds
of excess equipment home. (but did not bother to note what that was!) However,
I felt strong enough to be able to manage the 15 mile pace. My only physical
problem was a minor case of diarrhea. I went to sleep with the sounds of birds
singing (and must have had the shelter to myself.)
Plumorchard Gap Shelter.
March
20, Carter Gap Shelter, 18.1 miles
After
my short day yesterday, I was ready to put some good mileage behind me. The day
started out well. A few miles down the trail I cut off one of my pairs of blue
jeans to make shorts. From that point on I almost always hiked in shorts for
the cool comfort and ease of movement.
I
also crossed in North Carolina (putting that important first state behind me!).
This was my first significant milestone of the trip and gave me a boost. But, Mother
Nature had other plans for me. As soon as I got into NC it began to rain. I
quickly put on my raincoat and rain pants. The rain pants over shorts were a
good combination that kept my legs warm without making them sweat and caused
little condensation. (After the AT I’ve had very little occasion for rain
pants, more often just allowing my legs to get wet, or managing to stay home on
those rainy days.)
I
stopped for lunch at Standing Indian Shelter where I met three members of the
Dartmouth Outing Club. At the time I was an applicant to Dartmouth College
(which was my first choice for colleges). I’m afraid these three DOC jocks
thought little of my chance of getting to Hanover, or Katahdin.
After
a quick lunch I was off to Carter Gap. The climb up Standing Indian was very
easy. From the top the trail wound gradually downhill to Carter Gap. I think the
trail from Standing Indian to Wallace Gap was some of the fastest walking on
the AT. It was a nice gradual downhill, and perfect for getting out of the
rain.
I
was really bummed when I heard all the people gathered at Carter Gap. There
were 15-20 people, including about ten going southward. Fortunately, I was
welcomed, though not enthusiastically, in the shelter. My boots and socks were
soaking wet, and I was cold and stiff. I wasn’t up for pushing on to the next
shelter. (The unofficial policy at shelters was usually first-come, first-served
for shelter spaces, but in cases like this, hikers with tents would often cook
in the open space of the shelter and then move to their tent to have enough
room for a restful night. Late coming hikers with sodden gear were tolerated,
and though everyone dreaded having to accommodate them. These latecomers were
usually the people (like me in this case) that needed the shelter the most.
But
there were people spread all over Carter Gap Shelter. Cooking was an exercise
in quickness. I had about a square foot of space to cook in.
Eventually only 12 of us slept in the 8-man shelter. Some people had tents and set those up. The situation at Carter Gap showed how hikers were willing to help their fellow fanatics. My total mileage for the day was about 19 miles.
March
21, Wallace Gap/Franklin, NC Hotel, 12.3 miles
It
was good to get back to civilization again, on the first resupply day of the
trip. The only difficult part of the day was the short hike down Albert
Mountain. Otherwise, the trail was easy trucking. I did the 13 miles to Wallace
Gap by noon. At the time I thought that was amazing speed.
At
Rocky Knob Shelter, just before Wallace Gap, I met two more thru-hikers. They
were Bill Loeper and Chris Walker. Eric had met them earlier. Coincidentally,
they aimed to finish on Aug 22, the same date I had planned for. I mentioned
that I’d probably be standing along the road all day (trying to hitch a ride
into Franklin) so I’d probably see them again. Amazingly, the first car I saw
stopped and gave me a ride all the way to Franklin. Unfortunately, though, this
was likely the highlight of hitchhiking career.
I
checked into the Franklin Motel, which had been recommended to me by a couple
staying at Carter Gap. When I called my parents (likely collect) they were as
glad to hear me as I was to hear them. They were glad to know I reached
Franklin and that I was a little ahead of schedule
I
took a badly needed shower and did some laundry (Laundry was always awkward as
you had to leave something on as the rest of your clothing went through the
wash.) On my way to the coke machine, I met the couple who had suggested the
hotel. We talked a while, until I realized that I had locked myself out of the
room. The $14.50 for the room was pretty steep (unless you are used to 2025
prices!) Combined with an extra $9 for groceries, I thought I’d need to find
cheaper accommodations in the next town.
View of Albert Mountain,
 |
| Standing Indian Mountain. |
March 22, Siler Bald Shelter, 6.9 miles
Back
to the woods again. I woke up and checked out of the hotel. It took me a good
while to find the post office, though I must have walked by it a couple of
times. My fiberfill vest was in my package so I mailed home the down parka
along with the rest of my unwanted gear (again it would have been nice to have
noted what else was mailed back.) (The typical drill here was to retrieve a
package that was mailed from home to me for general delivery. I’d empty the box
and then reuse it to return any unwanted items back home. These rural post
offices were not open on Sunday, which often left me speeding up or slowing
down to arrive in town on an open day.)
After
catching two quick rides I was back on the AT. I couldn’t believe the
difference that all that food made to my pack weight. (This was the first time
I had ever resupplied with a full load of food in the middle of a trip). While
yesterday I boogied down the trail, today with my added weight I felt like I
was wading through peanut butter. At Winding Stair Gap a new superhighway was
coming through. The trail was hard to find, but I imagine things will be even
more complicated once the construction is complete.
Because
of my late start I decided to stop for the evening at Siler Bald Shelter. My
distance for the day is an unimpressive 7 miles. I spent the rest of the
afternoon organizing my pack. At the post office I had just thrown everything
in. I hoped that it was this tumble of munchies that made my pack feel like it
was easily on the far side of a hundred pounds.
My
dinner was supposed to be a Rich-Mor Cheese Romanoff. I must have added a
little too much water, because it came out like soup. It tasted so bad I
quickly threw it out and worked on some peanut butter sandwiches (thru-hikers
almost never discard food).
Lance
pulled into the shelter later in the afternoon, He was surprised to see me and
his first remark was something like “How did you get here? I thought I passed
you somewhere back there” (Even though I
was hiking “with” both Lance and Eric we each hiked our own distances and our
own speeds, and were usually separated during the day. Anyone behind the others
could usually track their progress by looking at the shelter register book
where we often note when we had arrived and where we were planning to stay in
the short term.)
I must have been making better time than I’d thought. A group of three guys I’d seen at Carter Gap also showed up. It had been so crowded at Carter Gap, that none of us had spoken to the others.
March
23, Wesser Creek Shelter, 18.2 miles
The
Nantahala National Forest remains one of my favorite places on the AT. The
views from Wayah and Wesser balds were outstanding. The stone tower on Wayah
Bald is especially impressive. When I arrived, Lance was sitting atop the tower
looking like an English knight from the fifteenth century. In my original notes
I compared the view stretching from Standing Indian to the Smokies to that of
Mt Carrigan in NH’s White Mountains.
In
general, the hiking wasn’t too difficult. The trail was well graded and wove
around the contours of the mountain instead of following the ridge crest over
all the small knobs. My heavier pack was still slowing me down and making me
work for those miles.
The
ascent of Wesser Bald at the end of an eighteen mile day seemed like Everest to
me. Lance, who had to wait on me all day, and I got into Wesser Creek Shelter
at dusk. I was worried that I wouldn’t make it in by dark. (I don’t remember
having to do any night hiking on the AT.) My feet were killing me and that didn’t
help my progress any.
Despite
the beauty of the Nantahalas, the area was not crowded. Today I saw 20 people,
but on most days, I saw just a couple of people. 
Lance on the tower at Wayah Bald.
March
24, Sassafras Gap Shelter, 8.9 miles
My
struggle to do 16 miles (actually 18 miles) yesterday was matched during the
night by a battle with an unseen foe during the night. Some creature was making
a terrible racket munching on garbage on
the other side of the shelter. Eventually through perseverance, and by throwing
some hefty lumber at it, I persuaded it to finally leave. (animals in shelters
were a problem on the AT even back in this era as not all hikers packed out
their trash. Mice and chipmunks were most common, but racoons and especially
skunks could be a real problem in both the remote and crowded shelters.)
Lance
with his usual energy was off to a quick start in a flurry of feathers from his
old army surplus sleeping bag. Lately, I had been loaning him my polypro vest
at night to hold off the chill.
The
first part of the hike to Wesser was a pleasant little country road. But it
soon turned left onto a paved road. This was my first experience of having cars
and huge trucks flashing by while I struggled along the shoulder carrying my
heavy pack. I didn’t look forward to doing any more of that. But later on, I
realized the balance of road walking was less scenery, but often much easier
walking.
Wesser
was barely a town (I think now all of it is part of the Nantahala Outdoor
Center). But there was a hostel, outdoor shop, and restaurant. Lance had just
finished breakfast and went over to the store for food. I did some drooling
over the backpacking equipment, but wisely limited myself to just a candle to
help with my journal writing and reading in the evening.
After
some chocolate milk and some candy bars, I set out to challenge the Stecoah
Range. This, along with Maine’s Mahoosuc Range, has the reputation of being the
hardest section of the whole AT. Unlike the Mahoosucs which save their ace for
the end, the Stecoahs gives it to you right away. The main climb is called the
“Jump Up.” As I started up Swim Bald I vowed to make the climb without taking a
break as a test of my fitness as a thru-hiker. By the time I reached the Jump
Up I had already rested twice. Soon the sweat was pouring off my back and down
my legs, and my breath was coming in gasps.
Near the top I stopped again with the excuse of fixing my blisters. Disgusted with the performance of my molefoam that I had applied previously, I tore it off my heals. One heel sported the most impressive blister I’d ever seen. It took me a full five minutes just to drain it. Fortunately, then I had just a short walk down to Sassafras Gap Shelter. I staggered into the shelter with a big 7 (9?) miles behind me. To further destroy my ego, Lance told me that he had made the Swim Bald climb without a rest. Needless to say, it was early to bed that night.
March
25, Fontana Village, NC Hotel, 21.1 miles
I
can say without question that this was my most tiring day on the entire trip. I
hiked all of 21 miles to Fontana Village. All day it was straight up one
mountain, and then straight back down it. Not only were the climbs steep, but
the footway was rough. The only break was the section between Brown Fork and
Cable Gap shelters.
I
left Sassafras Gap before Lance, but he caught me at Stecoah Gap. Highway
construction had obliterated the trail. We spent a good hour looking for the
trail. We got to Cable Gap about dinner time and started to settle down. But
there were three guys already in the shelter. Lance said he was getting “bad
vibes” from the place and was going to move on. Later we would learn from Eric
that both Cable Gap and Blood Mountain shelters were rumored to be haunted.
Since Eric and Lance would both be in Fontana, I decided to walk the extra five
miles.
Those
five miles seemed to last forever, but the gray asphalt of NC Highway 28
finally appeared through the trees. Since we figured Eric would already be at Fontana
Village we headed there by our own separate routes. Lance, though it strained
credibility, decided to walk in, while I lay spread eagle along the highway
waiting for a ride. I decided I’d have to move when no cars came by, and I
figured no one would see me lying on the ground anyway.
I
walked down the road and leaned my pack up against a road sign. As I sat down
to wait for a car, a figure emerged from the trees and began walking towards
me. From my now prone position I was surprised to see Eric. He was camping in
the parking lot and had heard me crunching through the trees as I had walked
down to the road. He went back to get his pack and joined me back at the road.
In a short while another hiker stopped, picked us up, and then dropped us off
at the village.
We
met Lance in town and looked for a place to stay. After a long, and tiring
search, we realized that the Fontana Inn was the only place open. Showers were
the first order of the day, followed by ping pong. I was proud to say I used up
the last of my energy whipping them both.
Since
our room was so expensive, dinner was just some candy bars and a coke. The
final note of the day was that we had the whole wing of the Inn to ourselves.
Can’t let those smelly hikers freak out the rest of the guests!
(I
didn’t have a food drop at Fontana, so this stop was all gravy. My wait time
hitchhiking rides into the trail towns was variable, but I always got into town
and never had any bad experiences.)
