the Appalachian Trail as a national treasure.

The year was 1968, the year the lava lamp and the 49¢ McDonald’s Big Mac were introduced. That year, Time magazine honored the Apollo 8 astronauts and Virginia Slims boldly promoted cigarettes to women with the catchphrase “You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby.” On TV, “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In” reigned. On the airwaves, the Beatles’ song “Hey Jude” rocketed to number one.

the Appalachian Trail as a national treasure.

The year was 1968, the year the lava lamp and the 49¢ McDonald’s Big Mac were introduced. That year, Time magazine honored the Apollo 8 astronauts and Virginia Slims boldly promoted cigarettes to women with the catchphrase “You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby.” On TV, “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In” reigned. On the airwaves, the Beatles’ song “Hey Jude” rocketed to number one.

The year was 1968, the year the lava lamp and the 49¢ McDonald’s Big Mac were introduced. That year, Time magazine honored the Apollo 8 astronauts and Virginia Slims boldly promoted cigarettes to women with the catchphrase “You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby.” On TV, “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In” reigned. On the airwaves, the Beatles’ song “Hey Jude” rocketed to number one.

In 1968, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were assassinated within months of each other, prompting thousands of people to join civil rights demonstrations and to gather along railroad tracks to honor Kennedy’s funeral train. The nightly news reported on Viet Nam War fatalities and anti-war protests; and street violence and tear gas took over the Democratic National Convention. Both political parties were split on matters of policy. By all accounts, our country seemed divided then, as it seems now.

Culturally, there was also grave concern that the increasingly ubiquitous lure of television was pulling Americans away from outdoor pursuits not so unlike current concerns about social media, online gaming, and the portable, 24/7 distraction of the smart phone.

So how was it that Congress unified behind the Appalachian Trail, pointing to its “maximum outdoor recreation potential” and its “nationally significant scenic, historic, natural, or cultural qualities?”

Perhaps it is no surprise that the Appalachian and Pacific Crest National Scenic Trails — which eventually inspired the designation of an impressive network of national trails in our country — were conceived and congressionally authorized during a time when people seemed to need places of retreat and refuge. Just as we seem to need places of solitude and beauty now.

I can’t help but think that we’re in a good moment of time to talk about the importance of the Appalachian Trail in the populous eastern United States, and to offer up unifying dialogue on how we can join together in enhancing our care for the last significant contiguous open space east of the Mississippi.

In this National Trails System Act anniversary issue of A.T. Journeys, we examine our history as we explore the future, showcasing some of the important milestones of the Appalachian Trail and providing you a peek at a forward-looking initiative called “Geotourism,” which marries Trail-town tourism promotion with vibrant stewardship.

While it cannot be denied that our united and collective perspective of our past and future is vital to the protection of the remarkable Appalachian Trail, we must not overlook our enjoyment and respect for the Trail right here and now. I speak from experience. The moments I carve out on the Trail — hiking under a canopy of trees that gently filters the sunlight or standing along a ridgeline surveying the countryside below — inspire and fuel me for our important work in preserving and protecting the Trail.

Summer 2018 articles focusing on women on the Trail. As a young child, I met a 16-year-old girl hiking by herself on the A.T. in Massachusetts. I talked to her for a while and remember thinking to myself that someday I wanted to hike on the A.T. for a length of time. In 1982, my now husband and I hiked for five weeks on the Trail heading south from Virginia. Throughout that period, we only passed two other women, hiking together, and quite honestly, I was so excited to see them! I also recall stopping at a firehouse advertising that long-distance hikers could take a shower at their department. When we arrived, the firemen looked at me in disbelief. They said, I was the first female hiker to take up their offer. The men were ordered out of the firehouse while I showered. Over the years, I’ve noticed that more and more women are hiking the Trail and it constantly brings a smile to my face.

Debra Wasserman

A.T. Journeys would run a feature story about Delaware Water Gap (“A.T. Communities”/ Summer 2018) without even the slightest mention of Presbyterian Church of the Mountain. We have provided hospitality, accommodation, counseling, medical assistance, and meals at no cost, for thru-hikers for over 40 years; and over 900 hikers this season alone.

William “Mr. Ed” Edward Kendall

October 2, 1968, the Appalachian National Scenic Trail was born. Not with the nailing of a sign or the tread of a boot, as one may have imagined, but with the stroke of a pen. On a busy day of bill signing engineered to distract or, less cynically, unite the nation during a time of anti-war protests and a hotly contested presidential election, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the National Trails System Act into law, officially designating the Appalachian Trail as America’s first National Scenic Trail.

have hearts of service. As Jeffrey Huffman, director of Military and Veteran Affairs at University of Central Missouri perfectly sums up, “Anecdotally, when you volunteer to join the military, you automatically have a service heart. You’re literally saying, ‘I’m willing to write a check up to and including my life, for my country.’”

Of course, that willingness to serve something larger than yourself comes with some costs. For example, the National Center for PTSD, part of the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, estimates that 30 percent of Vietnam veterans have had PTSD in their lifetime, as well as about 20 percent of those who have served in the more recent Iraq and Afghanistan wars. But organizations like VetsWork and Warrior Expeditions are helping veterans transition back into civilian life — with or without a PTSD diagnosis — and find a new way to serve and protect our country and its precious resources like the Appalachian Trail.

Peter Parsonson retired from his position as professor of engineering at Georgia Tech, he sent a letter to the Georgia Appalachian Trail Club (GATC) to inquire about becoming involved on the Trail with the club. The letter Peter received in response, and which Peter has never forgotten, told of the depths of pleasure Trail maintainers derive from their work. The letter writer spoke of the esprit de corps when working as part of a crew on bigger projects, as well as the satisfaction of looking after one’s own, “Trail section,” often alone.

through Massachusetts, I lost my map. Dumbfounded, I sat on a gravel road in the middle of a field, taking a break after those mighty three miles I’d walked past my starting point at Shay’s Rebellion. Tired already, there was no way I was going to go back to search for the map. For a few long minutes, anxiety threatened to swamp me like a tide; I didn’t have the names of the shelters where I was stopping written anywhere but on the map, nor I did I have a way to measure mileage or the elevation profile. I did have a guidebook, which at least contained some of the aforementioned information. Berating myself, I stood and continued walking, resigned to my mapless fate. Surely this was a practical joke: me, ever goal-oriented, always wanting to know what was coming next, being forced to continue without any indication of what lay ahead.

Shaffer hiked the Trail again in 1965, from the other direction, and once more as a 50th-anniversary trek in 1998 at age 79 — complaining bitterly all the way about route changes from roads up to mountaintops away from towns.