In the Oct. 28 issue of Encore, we profiled Gary Miller, a retired photojournalist who is hiking the 2,200-mile-long Appalachian Trail. That piece drew a number of reader emails and questions. So we asked Mr. Miller to elaborate on his experiences—and how others can tackle (as most hikers call it) the A.T.
On March 30, my 65th birthday, I began hiking the Appalachian Trail at Springer Mountain, Ga. My purpose was to reinvigorate my life. (I had let my goals atrophy to working, eating and watching television.) Each day on the trail, though, has its own, smaller purpose: to hike (depending on your abilities) 10 to 20 miles safely and comfortably while enjoying one of the richest and most diverse natural environments on earth.
Here's how to do that—and why walking the A.T. is actually two journeys in one.
Getting Ready
Each year, thousands of individuals set out to walk from Georgia to Maine (or the reverse). Some, known as "thru-hikers," stride from end to end in as little as five months. But most people, especially those age 50-plus, are "section hikers" and break the journey into more manageable chunks: two weeks here, a month there. As the saying goes: It is about the smiles, not the miles.
The author at 4,263 feet atop Snowbird Mountain in Tennessee Gary Miller
Of course, a hike of this nature requires a good deal of preparation. I spent a few hours each week walking my neighborhood streets in Yonkers, N.Y., which fortunately are steep and hilly; looking back, I should have spent more—at least four hours a day, six days a week, for two months—and carried a 35-pound pack while doing so.
Gear, including a tent, pack, sleeping bag and stove, cost about $1,600. I could have been more frugal, but at this age comfort and reliability are worth the added investment. For example, my tent, the Lunar Solo, is a tarp tent from Six Moons Design and cost $215. It was worth every penny. It weighed a mere 23 ounces, rolled up to the size of a small towel, and kept me warm and dry through many cold and rainy nights.
I also packed about $1,000 of nonperishable food items—packages of tuna and salmon, oatmeal, GORP ("good ol' raisins and peanuts," in one of many versions), rice pilaf, ramen noodles and instant mashed potatoes, to name a few—into boxes, which my wife mailed every 10 days or so to post offices in small towns along the route.
Rules of the Road
As for the hiking itself, let me offer a number of observations.
PACE: Young hikers can bolt out of the starting gate and do 20 to 25 miles a day, but they don't see or enjoy much along the way. Aim instead for 5 to 10 miles a day for the first few weeks; after your legs and muscles get stronger, shoot for about 10 to 15 miles a day. This way you can stop to smell the roses (or rhododendrons), take pictures and chat with fellow hikers. I met a few hikers in their mid to late 70s who strongly advised walking 8 to 10 miles a day and no more.
Heading to a shelter near Roan Mountain, Tenn. Gary Miller
LODGING: You can sleep in your tent or in one of the hundreds of lean-tos along the trail. These are three-sided shelters that accommodate eight to 20 hikers, often with picnic tables and cooking areas. They almost always have privies and a water supply, and are spaced a comfortable day's walk apart. So in theory, you could hike from Georgia to Maine without ever sleeping in a tent.
Or, you can spend every third night in a hostel. These are privately owned and operated and can be anything from a barn with bunk beds ($15 a night) to bed-and-breakfast accommodations ($75 to $150). Some are a stone's throw from the trail, while others require hitching or taxiing a few miles.
FOOD AND WATER: Assuming you plan for a mix of trail food and town food, you will end up carrying, on average, three to six days' worth of food, or about 6 to 12 pounds. You need to consume at least 6 quarts of water a day, which means—with stops to refill (there are hundreds of water sources along the way)—you will average carrying at least 2 quarts, or 4 pounds.
SAFETY: Many people ask: Is hiking through the middle of nowhere safe? What do you do if you need help? Navigating the A.T. is probably safer than walking down Main Street in most cities. Help is invariably close at hand because so many hikers use the trail. It was rare that I would go longer than a few hours without seeing another hiker. Oddly, in one day I participated in the rescue of two hikers who needed medical attention. (One was dehydrated; one had heart problems.) But that seemed a bit like lightning striking twice.
With trail acquaintances descending into Hot Springs, N.C. Gary Miller
BACKPACKS: In addition to food and water, you probably will carry a tent, sleeping bag, cooking gear, toiletries, cellphone and miscellaneous items. This brings your total pack weight to 30 to 40 pounds. For young hikers, this isn't a problem. For those of us with, ahem, a few miles under our belts, it is important to keep that number as low as possible.
This means learning about lightweight packing techniques and products. (You can start with the resources listed in the accompany graphic.) Yes, such gear is more expensive, but if you can reduce pack weight by 5 to 10 pounds, you can hike farther, in less pain, and in the end enjoy the journey more.
The Payoff
There are hundreds of moments forever etched in my heart and soul. Simple things like having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night but standing, transfixed, at the galaxies twinkling above. Terrifying moments like hiking in a thunderstorm, lightning striking so close you smell the ozone, thunder so loud you jump a foot off the ground, water tearing at your legs in a torrential fury. Getting up at 4 a.m. to make a 25-mile day, only to cross the top of a mountain at sunrise with George Harrison singing "Here Comes the Sun" (I kid you not!) on my iPhone. Meeting scores of fascinating people: ministers, nurses, lawyers, students, housewives, fishermen, artists, writers and on and on.
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At the 200-mile mark (Clingmans Dome, on the Tennessee/North Carolina border), the daughter of my best friend, Gary, posed a most important question during dinner at their house.
"What do you think about when you hike?" Jessica asked.
The opportunity for self-reflection was a constant, satisfying dividend of the trip—and my main reason for recommending it to you. In my case, this meant thinking about family, friends, my father's suicide, divorce, children, a subsequent marriage to a wonderful woman and companion for 30 years, writing a book, taking more pictures, teaching new classes and staying in shape, just to name a few.
"You don't know what kind of person will emerge at the end of this hike," cautioned my friend and soul mate, Carolyn, an artist and fellow sailor. "Take good notes," she encouraged, "but make sure you concentrate on the inner journey rather than on the usual 'did-this-and-went-there' diary details."
She was so right.
Mr. Miller is a retired photojournalist and writer in New York. Email: encore@wsj.com.
