Happy Hikers

As I struggle to keep up with the Strollers Club here at Assisted Living I am reminded of the three very happy years I spent with the Happy Hikers. We were a dozen women (age 35-80) who hiked almost every Thursday on the Appalachian Trail.

Though it is difficult for me to push my walker around the building here, I am amazed to recall how far we walked on the AT. A journal I kept recorded (“I walked six miles uphill today”), and a couple read (“I walked ten miles today”).

Flipping through the journal, memories are triggered as I read the names of some our trails… Cole Mountain, Crab Tree Falls, Peaks of Otter, Flat Top and Short Top, Parker’s Gap, Tar Jack Mountain, Bear Wallow Gap, Bluff Mountain, and the most challenging, the Priest’s Mountain.

The area of the trail we followed, the Natural Bridge portion, was 88 miles. Our goal was to complete this area and also maintain a portion of it. We had individual maps that we filled in on each hike with the portion we had covered that day. Because of intriguing sidetrips and detours off the trail, it took me three years to complete my map, and receive my patch from the National Bridge Appalachian Trail Club.

Our second goal was to name and record all the wild flowers we saw. A retired botanist from Sweet Briar College was a member of our group, and she helped us identify these flowers. That portion of the AT was a botanist’s paradise. One day we counted 200 lady slippers. We learned to spot trillium, and tiny bleuets, and dozens of other wild flowers. We walked through banks of wild azaleas and rhododendrons. The aroma was intoxicating and exhilarating.

This was our scenario. We would gather at a given spot around 9:00 a.m., and then carpool to our hike for the day (decided the week before). We hiked as a group at a steady pace carrying our water bottles, backpacks, ground covers, and lunch. At around noon, we chose a scenic spot, and ate our lunch, colored our map, and recorded our wild flowers. We were invigorated by the fresh air and sunshine, though sometimes we walked through clouds, sometimes rain, and even a few times through snow.

It was always amazing to see how close we were to a wilderness with all its natural beauty. Towering trees, wild life, abundant ground cover, bird calls, and in some places deep silence.

Tales from the Trail

Sometimes while hiking the AT, we would come upon something that hinted of a story. It would be just a clue to an incident long past. Once, we were doing a hike up Bluff Mountain. It was a strenuous hike through mist and light rain. Though only four miles, the path was steep, rocky with dense overgrowth alongside. When we reached the top, we were surprised to see a bronze marker. It read,

This is the exact spot where little Otie Cline Powell’s body was found April 5, 1891 after straying from Tower Hill School, Nov. 9, 1890 a distance of seven miles age 4 years 11 months There were so many questions this marker raised. Where had she been for six months? How long did she survive, and how? Who were her family? When was this marker set up, and by whom? We were a somber group as we ate our lunch besides the marker and pondered these questions.

On another occasion, we were taking a deep woods walk when we came across the remains of an old whiskey still. No house or remains of a house were in sight. We were deep into the woods and wondered about the story his old still could tell.

Tar Jacket Mountain was a favorite five-mile hike, and we enjoyed it even more when we heard the tale of how it got its name. An early settler was chased by a swarm of bees. In running from them, he tore his jacket. Because of his mountain accent, he told the store of his “tar jacket” and the name stuck: Tar Jacket Mountain.

Another puzzling incident we came across was in a clearing high on a mountain. Scattered in this clearing were hundreds of buttons–all sizes and colors. Where had they come from? Why were they here? One hiker said she had heard they were from a button salesman who traveled to the early scattered home sites in the mountain selling his buttons. But when had he emptied his entire contents of buttons here, and why?

The Appalachian Trail contains many more tales, and raises more unanswered questions, but it keeps its secrets, and we can only wonder.