Trail Magic: A Lesson In Kindness From The Appalachian Trail
I woke up shivering, as I pried open my eyes I remembered exactly where I was. I was smack in the middle of a row of thirteen other people sleeping shoulder to shoulder, front to back and every other way possible, some even suspended in hammocks above me. We were in a shelter huddled up after a cold night in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. We’d collectively gathered firewood in the knee-deep snow the night before and had attempted to keep warm and dry together. We were hikers on the Appalachian Trail, and loving every minute of it. After breakfast and the last swig of a shared bottle of whiskey I headed off down the trail, it was to be a town day, specifically going into Gatlinburg, or as I came to call it, Redneck Las Vegas. The trail was a wintry wonderland, with fresh snow and more coming down every second, I wanted to make the parking lot and catch a ride into town as soon as possible. After a few hours of hiking, I heard the sound of vehicles on a nearby road and soon rounded a bend and the saw the parking lot that I had been hiking towards. Almost as soon as I walked into the parking lot a spry, grey-haired woman waved me over and opened a trunk full of magic. Within was a plethora of tote containers that were packed with first aid, hygiene, snack bars, candy and instant meals. It was pretty much a portable one-stop resupply! She and her husband even had an airpot of coffee, a thermos of steaming tomato soup and a few warm grilled cheeses. On top of that, they offered to take a small group of us into town if we hadn’t found a ride by the time they had given away everything. It was absolute magic.
I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2014, from Georgia to Maine, I traversed mountain after mountain, saw beautiful scenes across ever-changing landscapes, conquered myself and nature alike. Through all that, you know what left the biggest impression? The kindness of strangers. The Appalachian Trail restored my faith in humanity, and continues to offer constant reminders, especially in the current sociopolitical climate, that people are essentially good and have so many redeeming qualities. Here is a bit more of that story.
In 2013 a good friend told me a story that caught my ear. He told me about a friend who had backpacked over two-thousand miles up the east coast and it had changed his life. He asked if I could see myself doing something like that? Of course I could.
The thing about travel is, it changes you. So much can be learned from small tweaks in how we see the world, and a physical shift in perspective can be an eye-opening experience. I learned this over and over in moving around the US and on smaller trips I was lucky enough to go on. I was curious what realizations longer travels might lead to and so desired to gain different perspectives. My friend told me he was considering taking on this audacious trek and asked me to keep it in mind. Six months later, after becoming complacent, stagnant, and half-assedly applying for a promotion I didn’t get (thank the gods), I called my friend up and asked if he was still considering. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. I told him that I was in if he was, and we started planning right away.
One of my first discoveries about the Appalachian Trail was that it had an incredibly tight-knit community. In preparing, I read countless blog posts, forums and books on the Appalachian Trail and found that the members of this community, roughly two feet wide and over two thousand miles long, were incredibly invested in each other’s success. This didn’t solely include hikers either, there was an ever-expanding group of trail maintainers, hostel owners, trail angels, and just everyday people that were heavily involved as well. I got my first experience of this on day one before even hiking my first official mile. I had read plenty about trail angels, people who provide trail magic or random acts of kindness for hikers as they take on their monstrous task, and was lucky to run into a celebrity among them at the first trailhead. I came across mentions of and articles by Miss Janet many times in my pre-trail studies. It’s said you’re almost guaranteed to meet her on the trail as she travels along it in her van, providing rides, snacks, encouragement and so much more to hikers in need, and there she was in person. I recognized her immediately. She greeted me with a warm smile and a little encouragement I’m sure I’d heard before, but this time it stuck. She congratulated me on beginning this incredible journey and posed a question, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” Such a simple little maxim and one I’ve referenced many times as I attempted any audacious task or have gotten to encourage others doing the same. She gave me her phone number and said if I ever got into a pinch, I could call her up and she’d help in any way she could. With that, I began my journey.
“It’s almost as if the trail was our religion, uniting us against it and the forces that might stop us from reaching our goal. We all wanted each other to succeed and were so willing to help in any way we saw we could. Life is a struggle, more so for some than others, and we should all do our best to help each other along.”
I encountered countless other trail angels as I made my way across the 14 states and 2,165 miles that made up the Appalachian Trail. So many, that I can’t even hope to remember them all, yet they each had a huge impact on my success in meeting the goal I had set out for. As hikers on the AT, we didn’t expect people to help us along the way, most of us set out with some grand ideal that we would be camping under the stars every night, never staying in hostels, and only going into towns when we absolutely needed to. What we didn’t realize was that we would need every bit of help we could get. Everyday people took us into their homes, fed us, clothed us, did our (awful, terrible, no good, very bad) laundry, and provided a restful sanctuary, all because they too wanted us to reach our goal. They offered encouragement, or most often just lent an ear, they wanted to know what we had seen and experienced, not just on the trail, but in life. The experience was truly awe-inspiring. People just doing good because they can. We needed this on the trail, just like we need this in real life. We each need to practice these small, yet grand, kindnesses in our daily lives. The smallest gesture at the right moment can make a world of difference. Just listening to people for the sake of listening or making ourselves available, can go such a long way in this mixed up world where we all vie for just a little bit of human connection.
The most obvious part of the Appalachian Trail community has to be the hikers, specifically thru-hikers (those who are attempting an end to end trek in one go) and section hikers (those attempting to complete the trail bit by bit as time allows). Each individual hiker has their own reasons for wanting to complete this hike. Among thru-hikers, I’d wager that each and every one was in a moment of transition and needed to get away from their lives to consider all the options laid out to them. Maybe they were in between high school and college or undergraduate and graduate and couldn’t make up their mind on what they wish to pursue under mounting pressure. There were those who were in moving out of the workforce into retirement and needed space to consider what the rest of their lives would look like. Others, like myself, were at a stand-still and having trouble seeing what steps they might take to move forward. Some were running from something, the law (I met a few), a bad relationship, responsibilities and any countless number of things that one might need to step away from to consider what they should do next. Just as in the real world, we each had our own ideas and purposes for this undertaking and were very much individuals, but as a community shared something. We shared a struggle, a want to know what we were capable of, a change of pace and scenery, a want to know ourselves on a deeper level.
It truly was a shared struggle. We all dealt with a sudden storm or turn of weather, mice getting into our food, not packing out enough food or water for a certain section of trail. Maybe it was blisters, a sprain or even a broken bone. We also got to share in the rewards of the trail, conversation around the fire at night, the majestic views we passed each day and a night sky full of stars we got to sit and gaze at in wonder. It was amazing to see how quickly hikers would offer food, first aid, advice, shelter, a listening ear and even in some cases, money or gear to those who hinted at even the slightest bit of need. The shared struggle and goal united us, making a crucial difference. We looked out for each other, despite being strangers. This, having each other’s best interest in mind, went a long way and is something I find severally lacking, especially now, in the real world. It’s almost as if the trail was our religion, uniting us against it and the forces that might stop us from reaching our goal. We all wanted each other to succeed and were so willing to help in any way we saw we could. Life is a struggle, more so for some than others, and we should all do our best to help each other along.
The community I found on the Appalachian Trail truly changed my life. As hikers, we had such a unique opportunity to step out of our daily lives to be alone, yet together, all at once. Community is such an important part of our lives. As humans, we need to feel connected by something, anything, and often take drastic steps to unite ourselves by any means possible. In traveling and on any journey, large or small, we get the chance to literally see things from a different perspective. The more I travel the more I see that we are all just trying to do the best we can with what we are given. This shared struggle unites us in a global community. If we could each step back and realize the things that bring us together, maybe it would be easier to act in each other’s best interest, taking the time to consider how the smallest action or word can make lasting change in another life, for better or worse. I’ve come to think that most journeys are like a condensed version of life. We start with great anticipation, wonder and excitement. As we move along, we hit roadblocks and unforeseen challenges, but also have exhilarating experiences and chance encounters that keep us moving forward. In the end, when we reach our goal and think back we realize that we gained more from the journey than the destination. The Appalachian Trail and the people that made and continue to make up the community surrounding it restored my faith in humanity and have given me the tools to change the world, one word, kindness and step at a time.
This blog was written by the fabulous adventurer, Coley Hines. Coley is an intelligent, outdoor enthusiast who loves reading, cooking and Pokemon. He has travelled and lived all over the U.S. of A and has enjoyed international adventures in Canada, Mexico, and Europe. Coley pursues his love for adventure by spending his free time backpacking, and skiing. You can read more about his adventure on the Appalachian Trail on his website.
