DiamondDoug
03-17-2008, 13:04
I wrote this for a wider audience than White Blaze, but thought you all might enjoy it here. Here goes:
I am a section maintainer on the Appalachian Trail. That means I am responsible for keeping the footpath of “my” 2.5 miles clear of downed branches, leaves and overgrowth. I lop branches when they start to hang into the trail so they might snag a pack, cut grass and briars with a whip when they grow out enough to grab hikers’ shins, and clean out the two springs on my section so the water flows clean and pure. I also have a shelter on my section where hikers tend to camp for a night, and I clean up trash around the shelter and make sure the privy is in good shape.
There is no set schedule of when section maintainers visit their piece of the Trail. It is good to make a late winter/early spring visit to check downfall from the winter before the spring rush of thru-hikers comes, and a couple of visits in the summer to clear the grass and briars that have grown. I carry a bow saw for small downed trees, but if a big one ever comes down across the trail I report that to the hiking club and they send out a crew with chain saws.
I have a pretty spectacular section of the AT. The entire length is above 5,000 feet, starting just below the summit of Big Bald, a cleared off mountain top with an unobstructed 360 degree view, and stretches north through some open fields and then a lightly wooded ridgeline. I can get a key and drive through a Forest Service gate right to my section, so I don’t even have to hike in.
Last Wednesday morning I had a meeting in Burnsville, NC, which is just below the ridge where the AT runs. When we finished up I headed for the Trail, arriving right about noon. Wednesday was a spectacularly sunny spring day, with temperatures reaching the mid sixties in Asheville and probably the low to mid fifties up on the ridge. There were a few isolated patches of snow left over from the winter here and there, but overall it was a gorgeous, mild early spring day.
I walked from one end of my section to the other, raking leaves out of the trail with my boot, kicking downed sticks and branches out of the way, and stopped three times to use my bow saw to cut out small downed trees. I cleaned all the winter detritus out of the two springs on my way out, and stopped to fill my water bottles with cold, clear, clean water on the way back. I enjoyed my lunch at the picnic table in front of the shelter, washing down my burrito with a beer I had packed in (and packed the empty bottle out).
There was no rush to my day, no hurry, no anxiety of needing to “get there” or to finish before any certain time. Darkness was my only deadline, and with the truck parked 100 yards from the trail at the end of my section even impending dusk was of no concern. This was the antithesis of my thru hike when I hiked under a compulsion to move along the miles traveled every day.
So I didn’t so much hike as did I stroll from one end of my section to the other, and then back again, without even the slightest hint of haste in my gait. I lollygagged, counted the false summits on the way to Little Bald, the northern end of my section, and took note of a spot where I remembered a field of white fringed phacelia bloomed the day I whizzed by on my thru-hike and planned to come again closer to that date (May 7). It was a most enjoyable day.
As I finished my inspection and neared the point where I had begun, the trail broke out of the woods into an open meadow. In front of me, on the next section maintainer’s part of the Trail south, rose Big Bald, the top of the hill aptly named for it resembled the cranium of some giant Titan standing inside the mountain below me with just the top of his head rising treeless from the surrounding ridge. The sun was low in the sky and the soft evening light glowed yellow and orange and mauve.
For a second, or maybe even two or three, I thought of walking out to the truck and heading for home. I knew Di was expecting me for dinner, but I knew she knew where I was and would understand if I was late. She realizes how much being on the Trail refreshes me, reinvigorates me and how my soul draws strength from being out of doors in the sun and in the fresh air.
So up to the top of Big Bald I climbed. My legs were sore and tired from the hike, and from kicking leaves and sticks off the trail all day, but the closer to the crest of the cleared bald I got the fewer aches I felt. Up I went, until on top of the summit I stood.
What an unparalleled moment! I spun all the way around, gazing south to the Smokies, north towards Unaka and Roan, and could follow the Trail across Hogback Ridge. The air was clear enough that I was able make out the towers atop Camp Creek Bald to the west, and the highway down below me leading into Erwin. In the gloaming the color of the sky was velvety peach, and while the temperature was beginning to drop it was still comfortable in the gentle breeze.
I lingered for a few moments, again in no rush to leave. The sun had not yet set, but soon, and I felt refreshed as I turned and headed off the hill. It was my birthday, and I could think of no better way to have spent my day.
I am a section maintainer on the Appalachian Trail. That means I am responsible for keeping the footpath of “my” 2.5 miles clear of downed branches, leaves and overgrowth. I lop branches when they start to hang into the trail so they might snag a pack, cut grass and briars with a whip when they grow out enough to grab hikers’ shins, and clean out the two springs on my section so the water flows clean and pure. I also have a shelter on my section where hikers tend to camp for a night, and I clean up trash around the shelter and make sure the privy is in good shape.
There is no set schedule of when section maintainers visit their piece of the Trail. It is good to make a late winter/early spring visit to check downfall from the winter before the spring rush of thru-hikers comes, and a couple of visits in the summer to clear the grass and briars that have grown. I carry a bow saw for small downed trees, but if a big one ever comes down across the trail I report that to the hiking club and they send out a crew with chain saws.
I have a pretty spectacular section of the AT. The entire length is above 5,000 feet, starting just below the summit of Big Bald, a cleared off mountain top with an unobstructed 360 degree view, and stretches north through some open fields and then a lightly wooded ridgeline. I can get a key and drive through a Forest Service gate right to my section, so I don’t even have to hike in.
Last Wednesday morning I had a meeting in Burnsville, NC, which is just below the ridge where the AT runs. When we finished up I headed for the Trail, arriving right about noon. Wednesday was a spectacularly sunny spring day, with temperatures reaching the mid sixties in Asheville and probably the low to mid fifties up on the ridge. There were a few isolated patches of snow left over from the winter here and there, but overall it was a gorgeous, mild early spring day.
I walked from one end of my section to the other, raking leaves out of the trail with my boot, kicking downed sticks and branches out of the way, and stopped three times to use my bow saw to cut out small downed trees. I cleaned all the winter detritus out of the two springs on my way out, and stopped to fill my water bottles with cold, clear, clean water on the way back. I enjoyed my lunch at the picnic table in front of the shelter, washing down my burrito with a beer I had packed in (and packed the empty bottle out).
There was no rush to my day, no hurry, no anxiety of needing to “get there” or to finish before any certain time. Darkness was my only deadline, and with the truck parked 100 yards from the trail at the end of my section even impending dusk was of no concern. This was the antithesis of my thru hike when I hiked under a compulsion to move along the miles traveled every day.
So I didn’t so much hike as did I stroll from one end of my section to the other, and then back again, without even the slightest hint of haste in my gait. I lollygagged, counted the false summits on the way to Little Bald, the northern end of my section, and took note of a spot where I remembered a field of white fringed phacelia bloomed the day I whizzed by on my thru-hike and planned to come again closer to that date (May 7). It was a most enjoyable day.
As I finished my inspection and neared the point where I had begun, the trail broke out of the woods into an open meadow. In front of me, on the next section maintainer’s part of the Trail south, rose Big Bald, the top of the hill aptly named for it resembled the cranium of some giant Titan standing inside the mountain below me with just the top of his head rising treeless from the surrounding ridge. The sun was low in the sky and the soft evening light glowed yellow and orange and mauve.
For a second, or maybe even two or three, I thought of walking out to the truck and heading for home. I knew Di was expecting me for dinner, but I knew she knew where I was and would understand if I was late. She realizes how much being on the Trail refreshes me, reinvigorates me and how my soul draws strength from being out of doors in the sun and in the fresh air.
So up to the top of Big Bald I climbed. My legs were sore and tired from the hike, and from kicking leaves and sticks off the trail all day, but the closer to the crest of the cleared bald I got the fewer aches I felt. Up I went, until on top of the summit I stood.
What an unparalleled moment! I spun all the way around, gazing south to the Smokies, north towards Unaka and Roan, and could follow the Trail across Hogback Ridge. The air was clear enough that I was able make out the towers atop Camp Creek Bald to the west, and the highway down below me leading into Erwin. In the gloaming the color of the sky was velvety peach, and while the temperature was beginning to drop it was still comfortable in the gentle breeze.
I lingered for a few moments, again in no rush to leave. The sun had not yet set, but soon, and I felt refreshed as I turned and headed off the hill. It was my birthday, and I could think of no better way to have spent my day.