I’ve hiked a teeny tiny bit of the Appalachian Trail — although I’m using the word hike rather generously. Words like stroll or amble or saunter would be more accurate, since the part of the trail I “hiked” was in the heart of Hot Springs, a town of about 530 in the mountains of N.C. In other words, I wasn’t roughing it.
Most people are at least somewhat familiar with the Appalachian Trail — or “A.T.” as it’s commonly known — although many may not be aware of the specifics, so here goes: The trail is almost 2200 miles long, with the official distance in a state of flux, due to trail modifications and ever-more accurate measurement methods. It stretches from northern Georgia well into Maine, including a total of 14 states in its run.
I like to hike, and I’ve done my fair share of it in years past, but I know my limits. I can see myself hiking — really hiking — parts of the A.T., but never in a million years would I attempt to hike the entire length over one continuous period of time, a feat known as thru-hiking. Over 3000 people set out to try it each year, according to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, an organization dedicated to protecting and managing the Trail; approximately one-quarter of those succeed, generally over a span of five to seven months.
One person who resolved to attempt a thru-hike of the A.T. was author Bill Bryson. At the age of 44, Bryson decided, almost on a whim, to give it a go. The thing is: Even though Bryson was no stranger to hiking, he’d never attempted anything even approaching this scale before, and he was spectacularly unprepared. What’s more, his childhood friend, referred to in the book as Stephen Katz, signed on to accompany him, and he was even more unprepared than Bryson. The two had traveled around Europe together 25 years earlier and to say they hadn’t gotten along great on that trek would be an understatement. Stir all these elements together and you’ve got a recipe for a lot of adventures — or misadventures — which Bryson recounts with great humor in his book A Walk in the Woods.
Bryson and Katz hiked the Trail — and whether they completed it, I’ll leave to your imagination (or you can read the book or google it) — in 1996, and Bryson’s book was published in 1998.
Bryson describes their first day hiking thus: “It was hell.” It’s a sentiment he reiterates two pages later. And though not necessarily repeated verbatim throughout the book, it’s often implied. His and Katz’s mismatched personalities and combined ineptness, along with the actual arduous challenges of hiking the Trail, make for a string of entertaining stories. And, not surprisingly, the worse the situation was for Bryson and Katz, the funnier it was when retold.
Still, the book is more than just one guffaw after another. Bryson uses his and Katz’s experience as the consistent, evolving narrative throughout a book that also contains information about the flora, fauna and geology of the Trail and a whole lot of Trail history. There’s nothing better than a book that lets you laugh and learn at the same time.
You don’t have to be a hiker to enjoy this book. You just have to be someone who appreciates a good story. I happen to be both.
