While he fully admits he did not technically or properly prepare, Derick wants people to know that anyone can follow their curiosity, not to thru-hike, but to experience a new and inspiring adventure outdoors. “I was just telling my story. I would have to say that the little Derick playing kick ball in the streets of NYC, or Philadelphia, or any urban kid that has never heard of the A.T. before, should try to experience the wonders of the outdoors,” he says. “When I think back at little Derick and his curiosity, I know he would have loved to hike and camp and just take in nature. It saddens me that he missed that, yet I now have the voice to help spread the word of this amazing Trail and maybe help lessen the number of unlikely hikers out there.”
His story seems to also appeal universally. “I get messages from people who have read the book and some reveal that they were not sure if they were going to relate to a hiking book because they are not hikers or outdoorsy people, but after reading it, they were inspired and enjoyed the stories,” he says. “The A.T. is the stage in this act, readers will obviously get that and hopefully want to experience it’s wonders as well, but I mainly want people to see that The Unlikely Thru-Hiker is more than just a hiking story; it’s a story of relationships, of stepping out of your comfort zone and of achieving what may seem unachievable by yourself and others.”
He does have some advice though for ambitious dreamers who may want to tackle the entire Trail. “I would say to be smart. Don’t start your first ever hike as a thru-hiker. Luckily, I learned that I actually loved hiking on my thru-hike,” he says. “Not ideal; and it could have backfired. Start with way smaller hikes, learn the way of hiking and camping. It can be more enjoyable if you gradually work up your miles.” And as far as advice and his overall take on his experience, he explains, “I’ve always been a people person, but now I am much more open, patient and giving with others and with strangers.”
“Since my thru-hike, I discovered that I live only 45 minutes to an hour away from the Appalachian Trail (Bear Mountain / Harriman State Park) and I’m out there as much as possible,” he says. “My NYC friends, who have never or rarely hiked and thought I was bonkers for attempting a thru-hike, now join me on my hikes.”
Rebecca Harnish set out on her thru-hike with the lofty plan to document her hike by packing watercolor paints and paper to fit in her backpack’s shoulder pocket. The result is her whimsical postcards depicting some personal highlights – and iconic mile-markers — of her hike. “While planning my mini art kit — debating over the colors for my palette, deciding on tools, cutting watercolor paper to fit in my backpack’s shoulder pocket — I daydreamed about plucking it out whenever a mountainous view or interesting plant struck me with inspiration,” she says. “While I found out that most of my hike was not ideal for creating art, all of it was perfect in the context of the Trail. For all of its natural splendor, it tests every kind of endurance; it’s dirty, sweaty, painful, full of imperfect moments of despair, but also full of wonderful people to laugh about them with. As an anxious perfectionist, both my hike and attempt to paint along the whole Trail was a lesson in embracing the imperfect.” Her postcards capture it all: The beautiful, the ugly, the fun, and silliness of Trail culture. The result is a series of artwork she created in postcard format. “After all,” she says, “sending someone a postcard about sink laundry says a lot about your life on the Trail.”
Rebecca Harnish set out on her thru-hike with the lofty plan to document her hike by packing watercolor paints and paper to fit in her backpack’s shoulder pocket. The result is her whimsical postcards depicting some personal highlights – and iconic mile-markers — of her hike. “While planning my mini art kit — debating over the colors for my palette, deciding on tools, cutting watercolor paper to fit in my backpack’s shoulder pocket — I daydreamed about plucking it out whenever a mountainous view or interesting plant struck me with inspiration,” she says. “While I found out that most of my hike was not ideal for creating art, all of it was perfect in the context of the Trail. For all of its natural splendor, it tests every kind of endurance; it’s dirty, sweaty, painful, full of imperfect moments of despair, but also full of wonderful people to laugh about them with. As an anxious perfectionist, both my hike and attempt to paint along the whole Trail was a lesson in embracing the imperfect.” Her postcards capture it all: The beautiful, the ugly, the fun, and silliness of Trail culture. The result is a series of artwork she created in postcard format. “After all,” she says, “sending someone a postcard about sink laundry says a lot about your life on the Trail.”