Names, Names, Names

At the Speed of Foot gives a fair amount of detail on a few of the thru-hikers I was close to on the Appalachian Trail but passes over many. There were just too many of them. I included a lot of their names in early drafts, when they were all still fresh in my memory but manuscript readers found them too much and too little at the same time. Too much in that without my perspective, they could not sort them out. Too little in that the names were just that, with no detail or characterization.

So now that the book is done, I can give them some space. Here's the first installment.

The Hammock Brothers: Brian and Eric were two brothers from Pennsylvania. They slept in hammocks slung under tarps from the outset. I met them at Tray Mountain Shelter on a very rainy day. They arrived after the shelter was full but managed to stay dry under their tarps and had ample room to pack, cook and perform all their camp chores. The brothers were with us the following day at Deep Gap shelter, where we all spent the sunny afternoon drying gear. We saw them occasionally on the trail as we headed toward the Smokies and camped with them three nights straight in the Smokies. Both had long blond hair and round, not quite chubby, faces. Brian was the older of the two, a bit shorter and more stocky. He was an ambler, usually wandering into camp after Eric. Eric was taller and more inclined to bolt ahead of his brother on the trail so that he could spend time photographing things that interested him. Our three nights together in the Smokies gave us a chance to observe their interactions, characterized by a long established brotherly rivalry. There was an edge to their rivalry but it was more of an intimate dance between two very close siblings. They headed into Gatlinburg, TN after our third night in the Smokies and I saw them again only in Hot Springs, NC and during my southbound trip through Shenandoah. I saw their picture at the ATC HQ, standing together looking confident. After that, I saw their names in registers while I was soloing up to central PA. They passed us in Hanover, NH. R&G saw them at Ben & Jerry’s. I did not but I followed their progress in the registers. I figure they went up Katahdin about four or five days ahead of me.


Flatfoot & Whisper: A couple of young self-styled ski bums who work in food service at ski resorts. Whisper managed serving staff. Flatfoot was a chef. They were hiking toward winter jobs in Vermont after working in upstate New York. They were a quiet couple. Whisper had a soft voice and manner that rendered her almost invisible in the gloom of a shelter. Flatfoot, with his dark hair, eyes and beard, looked more intense. They seem to have been together for a while; they were very attentive to each other and their camp routines well established. Being with them was one of the hike’s pleasures. They were not only very nice but I enjoyed sharing the company of younger hikers and knowing that I could keep up with them. I met them for the first time in Hiawassee, GA but got to know them better during the long afternoon at Plum Orchard Gap shelter. I saw them of and on again as we made our to the Smokies. They were stuck in Fontana Village, NC waiting for a food drop when we left to head into the Smokies. We wondered if they would receive the package in time to make the first shelter with us. They did barely, arriving not long before dark. We camped together that night and the next two nights, sharing shelters with the Hammock Brothers, Sylvain and Bill and Ursula. I saw them last at Newfound Gap in the fog, heading into Gatlinburg. I expected to see them in Hot Springs, NC but did not. The Hammock Brothers said that Flatfoot was ill but didn’t know what had become of them. We wondered and worried. I heard much later that they had traveled to New Orleans for the jazz festival, finished the Smokies and returned to Massachusetts where Whisper was helping her mom with a family matter.

Sylvain: Sylvain was a French-Canadian hiker who spoke limited English so he was hard to get to know. But over time, we learned to communicate well enough. Sylvain was a solidly built individual, heavy frame and bones. He had a broad face with an infectious smile. His camping style looked chaotic to me–he seemed to just drop into whatever place he found and exploded his gear around him. His tent was a real cheapie, with a tiny fly and too little space for him to fully stretch. He carried a can of mace in a holster. Every time I saw him, I would think the mace was a pistol. We met the first night out from Springer. He was playing chess with another Canadian, Medicine Man. We camped together most nights in the Smokies and I saw him again on the way to Damascus. At that time he looked like a real Voyageur(?), with his two wooden poles and red bandana on his head. He camped in the yard at The Place in Damascus and I gave him my bunk when I pulled out. I heard after Pearisburg that he was ill with something intestinal. I saw him last during my southbound through SNP. He was about a week or 10 days behind our original group. He said that his intestinal ailment had slowed him down a lot. He looked tired when I saw him. He’d had something done to his boots at Trail Days that resulted in poor fit, so he’d sliced open the toes for relief and taped the incision over with blue duct tape. As I headed north, I wondered how he was doing. He was in Gorham, NH the day before I arrived. Montreal had dinner with him. After Harper’s Ferry, Sylvain returned home for a few weeks and then returned to the trail at Katahdin, heading south. I assume he made it the rest of the way. I hope so.

One Gallon Bill & Ursula: They crossed our path at Wayah Bald just south of the Smokies. They looked odd together. Bill is a big man–over six feet and broad chested–who can cover large chunks of the trail in a single step. Ursula is much smaller and has to hustle to keep up with him. My first impression of Bill was not favorable due to his booming voice and enthusiastic talkativeness. He and Ursula camped with us at Wesser Bald shelter on the first day we met. His voice filled the shelter and carried some distance. I named him Bellowing Bill for that reason. But as time and miles passed, he was an interesting and pleasant companion. Our first night together also introduced us to their unusual diet: dinner was corn meal cooked with cocoanut flakes, pudding and maybe something else. It looked pretty gruesome, especially the idea of eating the left overs cold the next morning. Bill thru-hiked the trail in 1982 and got his trail name for eating a full, rather than a mere half, gallon of ice cream at the halfway point. He carried the same equipment he did in 1982, including a well used Kelty Tioga pack with metal buckles. His load also included some improbable items, such as a map of Canada, which he whipped out during a long discussion with Sylvain in the Smokies. Bill & Ursula were part of our shelter crew during the first few nights in the Smokies. After that, we saw them off and on along much of the trail. However, the rarely stayed in towns; I think they were on a limited budget so they would usually take care of business and get back to the trail. They were just ahead of us through much of Virginia but had to take a week off to travel to Canada so Ursula, a German, could re-enter the US for another six month visa. I last remember seeing them in Kent, Connecticut at the IGA. We crossed Schaghticoke Mountain together. Although I never saw them afterward, I saw their entries in the trail registers into Maine and am pretty sure they completed the trail.

Syracuse Pete: first appeared at Peck’s Corner shelter in the Smokies. He’d come in for water but decided to stay and dry out gear after a very wet night. He looked old when I first saw him: gray beard, braces on both knees. Took a while to get to know him. He kept to himself or the people he knew so my interactions were limited at first. He was part of the large crowd at Cosby Knob shelter our last night in the Smokies. He spent much of that time sitting on a log talking to Pushing Up Daisies, putting up his tent only at the last minute. A group of women section hikers saw him sitting by himself and were worried about him but he did finally find a place and set up. Got to know him most in southwest and central Virginia. Shared a B&B room with him and Radar and he was at the Village Motel two nights later when we pulled into Atkins. We leapfrogged and camped with each other all the way to Rockfish Gap, VA. Pete was one of the big slackpackers, especially on the section leading to Damascus He also slackpacked a couple days out of Troutville, VA. It always caught me by surprise to see him just appear on the trail heading south. I last saw him in Waynesboro, VA. He was having trouble with his boots and feet. I saw a shelter register in SNP where he said he was dropping out for a while and would return to the trail at Katahdin and head south but I never saw him again and don’t know what became of him.

Take Care: A young blond man from New Jersey (or was it New York). I first saw him on the last night in the Smokies at the “refugee camp” at Cosby Knob shelter. He was camped in what Gary called the mine field, where many previous campers had dug their cat holes. It was one of the few flat spaces available, so he and a few others had little choice. I walked with him a couple days later as we went over Max Patch and Roaring Fork shelter. He was a pleasant companion on that day. Never really hiked with him again–he was usually ahead of me, trying to cover 14 miles per day so that he could reach Katahdin on schedule–but I continued to see him occasionally and read his entries all the the way through Maine. He had worked as a consultant (in computers, I think) but was laid off and decided to hike the AT while he had a chance.

Redwood: A tall young man who stood about 6'8" who wore UNC-Asheville basketball trunks. He was hard to miss, with his head towering above everyone else and his frame pack poking over his head. First met him south of the Smokies and hiked with him in NC and TN. He had a smooth, deep voice, a southern accent, a very pleasant manner and was a genuinely nice guy. His long face, prominent nose and jaw and thick brown hair reminded my a lot of Al Gore. Redwood was a writer and had worked as a reporter in Asheville until he was laid off. That’s when he decided to hit the trail. We used to joke that, with his long legs, he could cover more trail in a single step than the rest of us could in several steps and he would reply that the trail was as challenging for him as any of the rest of us. This was particularly true in that he had knee problems that bothered him at several points in the trip. He pulled in to Laurel Creek Lodge in Tennessee for an extra day to recover at one point but the pain persisted through much of the hike. Spent time with him at the Dairy King in Damascus but saw him only a few more times in Virignia after that. We met again at Glen Brook shelter in Massachusetts. He was ahead of me after that until he showed up at Goose Pond cabin a few days later, heading south trying to intercept Tin Tin to arrange a place to stay in NYC for a concert. Last I saw of him was in N. Adams, MA where he was waiting at the trailhead to return to Dalton to pick up something. Never saw him again but I heard that he finished the trail a few days after I did.

Now or Never: He walked into the Duckett House B&B in Hot Springs, NC the day R&G left. He was traveling light and making good time, having started 11 days after we did. Now or Never was a businessman from Charlotte, NC who had decided that 02 was the year to hike the trail. It must have been a difficult decision because it meant that his income would take a real hit at the same time his daughter was in college. I saw very little of him for most of the hike, just his register entries. He was leaving Pearisburg, VA as we walked in. I saw him again in Shenandoah NP in June and again on the morning we left Kent, CT in late July. We camped with him that night but he pulled away from us until Bennington, VT where we encountered him at the Autumn Court Motel. After that he was a day or two ahead of us until we reached Katahdin Stream campground our last night on the trail. As a result, we summited with him, or more correctly, he was at the summit when we arrived. Being part of our summit crew makes him one of the special people on the trip–he was there for the final event of a long march. He was also at the motel–along with the rest of our summit crew–in Millinocket that night and the following morning when we all parted.

More to come.