I want to explain the process that led to the decision to oppose the MVP. When we first heard such a pipeline was in the planning stages, we reached out to the consortium of energy companies supporting Mountain Valley to obtain the information we needed to evaluate its likely impact on the Trail. At the same time, we began a series of discussions about the project with the U.S. Forest Service and the National Park Service, both of which have key roles in the approval process. The result was that the Mountain Valley proponents essentially ignored our concerns, while both the Forest Service and the Park Service raised many of the same issues we did.

To be frank, we are very disappointed that the MVP consortium would not engage in discussions or provide the data that could lead to a better route with much less impact on the A.T. We paid for an independent visual impact analysis of how a pipeline corridor up to 500 feet wide would affect the Trail experience from Pearisburg north to the Roanoke area. It is clear from this analysis that the scenic values from vistas such as Angel’s Rest, Kelly’s Knob, McAfee Knob, and numerous others would be degraded.

Based on this information and the unwillingness of the MVP consortium to have a productive dialogue with us, we are strongly advocating the proposed MVP route be rejected by FERC. We took this position consistent with a policy position for considering petroleum pipeline development approved by the ATC’s Stewardship Council and Board of Directors. That policy statement says: “The ATC seeks to avoid, minimize, or eliminate the visual and experiential impacts of all utilities — including oil, gas, and petroleum-product pipelines, on the Trail and its surrounding landscapes.”

It is my view that the ATC should be very careful and selective in deciding that a specific development proposal is unacceptable. We have a long track record of working with government agencies, local communities, and the private sector to assure the Appalachian Trail experience is protected for the enjoyment of future generations. This requires us to be a strong voice for conserving the A.T. landscape and the many great vistas along the Trail consistent with environmentally acceptable development that benefits our country.

received proof that the effort to encourage “flip-flopping” by prospective A.T. thru-hikers is gaining acceptance, even out here. Case in point: In Oregon, I have run into several hikers who have backpacked all or part of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and now wish to take on the A.T. I recently met a young male employee at Trader Joes here in Corvallis who noticed my A.T. logo hat, which served to initiate a conversation on a favorite shared subject. He expressed his intention to hike the A.T. next year after completing a preparation hike of the Oregon portion of the PCT this summer. In asking him where he planned to begin his A.T. hike, he immediately invoked Harpers Ferry. “Great idea!,” I intoned, followed by, “Do you realize such a plan is called flip-flopping?” He said he had and that the idea was appealing to him. We can hope that more potential thru-hikers, no matter where their home base, will similarly embrace a flip-flop hiking plan.

Karl Hartzell

note with food and drink for fellow hikers: Thank you for your efforts to welcome thru-hikers to Massachusetts this spring.  I’m sure they valued your support, and appreciated the food and drink you left by Rt 41. Unfortunately, the maintainer caring for this section of the Trail encountered the empty bottles and remnants of food that were left behind with his brush cutter and spend an unpleasant 15 minutes gathering up the scattered smelly and decaying bits and pieces, then putting them into his truck and carrying them home for disposal.  While I’m sure a few hikers appreciated your gesture (although there is ample water in this section, and access to resupply is relatively easy), the “magic” of your effort was definitely lost on the maintainer, who refers to it — perhaps more accurately — as litter.

Cosmo Catalano

bottom, an economic one. And this alone is bad enough, even in a period of so-called ‘normalcy.’ But living has been considerably complicated of late in various ways — by war, by questions of personal liberty, and by ‘menaces’ of one kind or another.”

Benton MacKaye wrote this in 1921 — when the world seemed extremely complicated and uncertain. I don’t think I’m alone in feeling we are now again struggling with much of the same fears and uncertainties. We seem to be at a pivotal point for our country and our planet. So, what can we do within the tiny space in which we have some control and certainty?

For MacKaye it was simple: “There are three things: To walk, to see, and to see what you see.” Living as we do now, in Harpers Ferry, my husband, Chris and I need only to walk out our back door to see what we see.

Beyond the hikers, there is the community. My morning constitutional will take me past Harpers Ferry National Historical Park and the Appalachian National Scenic Trail park offices, where dedicated and talented public servants are busy meeting and greeting visitors from around the world. The ATC Visitor Center volunteers work seven days a week to share the story of the Appalachian Trail to one and all passing through their door.

With just a few more steps you can follow the white blazes through town and back onto the Trail. Heading north, you walk along the C&O Canal to where the A.T. veers left up Weverton cliffs and beyond to Katahdin. The southern trek takes you across the Shenandoah River and a climb up Loudoun Heights from where Springer Mountain lies just a little over 1,000 miles.

It is a beautiful town and a gateway to the even more spectacular refuge that is the Appalachian Trail. Yet, in all honesty, and with all this literally out my back door, I too often find myself engrossed in news reports and on-line chatter. I succeed only in raising my blood pressure and reducing my spirit. In reading MacKaye, I realize that this, unfortunately, is the default human condition. He wrote: “For we need this thing wilderness far more than it needs us. Civilizations (like glaciers) come and go, but the mountain and its forest continue the course of creation’s destiny. And in this we mere humans can take part-by fitting our civilization to the mountain.” Ninety-six years later, this still rings true. I’m lucky to live in a town that has fit its civilization into the mountain. I just need to walk out my back door more often. Here’s hoping you too can take that walk, to see, and to see what you see.

Trail magic is a term that is often misconstrued. By the Appalachian Trail Conservancy’s (ATC) definition, Trail magic is a serendipitous experience on the Appalachian Trail. Mostly, it’s unplanned acts of kindness by strangers, though a liberal interpretation might include a mesmerizing sunset after days of soaking rain, or a wildlife sighting so thrilling it makes your heart pound.

I experienced this concept first hand during my 2014 thru-hike. In Hanover, New Hampshire, a nearby couple overheard my partner and me struggling to find a place to rest our aches and pains. They invited us to their home, where they fed and entertained us for two days. It was the first time they had helped hikers, and that random act of kindness will always shine through as a top memory of our journey.

In the last few years, the term Trail magic has expanded in the hiker community to encompass many other forms of kindness on the Trail, including hiker feeds, leaving a cooler full of treats by the Trail, setting up tables of food and snacks, and cooking ornate meals at shelters. No one disputes these efforts go above-and-beyond in the kindness department, but they are technically not considered Trail magic, and may do more harm than good.

“By definition, any pre-planned event wouldn’t be Trail magic because it’s contrived. It doesn’t make something planned any less of a kind gesture, but it’s not Trail magic,” says the ATC’s Trail information specialist Tenny Webster. “It’s not value laden, this definition; it just honors the random, dumb chance — the serendipity — of an experience for everyone involved. This may sound restrictive to some folks, but shouldn’t something magical require a high bar, anyway?”

car on the side of West Dover Road near the Appalachian Trail, just a few miles north of the town of Pawling, New York. A number of people were moving around the area with brisk and purposeful strides. As I stepped out of the car and walked toward the others, I was struck by a tangible energy in the air. It was a feeling of exhilaration and excitement that would set the tone for the remainder of the day. As additional vehicles began to arrive, I watched their passengers eagerly going to greet each other with the type of enthusiastic hug or handshake reserved for a good friend you haven’t seen in some time.

It was a white oak tree (Quercus alba) that had brought this group of people together on this particular National Arbor Day, but it wasn’t just any white oak, and the visitors certainly weren’t your typical A.T. visitors. The group was comprised of some of the very best International Society of Arboriculture Certified Arborists and Champion Climbers from the states of New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. They had all met here in Pawling to provide a day of service to one of the largest white oak trees in the state of New York, the Dover Oak. Standing at 85 feet in height and 81 inches in diameter, the Dover Oak is a splendor to behold. Its limbs, many of which are outstanding in their own right, stretch in all directions, first aiming skyward and then arching back down toward the ground. It is estimated that the tree is around 250 years old, but its age has long been disputed, and some suspect it is considerably older. We can only speculate as to how and why it came to be that this tree was spared when the area was heavily deforested in the mid to late 1800s.

By Clay Bonnyman Evans

series of human-made stone steps to Vermont Route 9, one of the steepest half-mile sections on the Appalachian Trail, in a torrential downpour when it really struck me how much work it takes to keep the Trail healthy, sustainable, and free of obstruction. How in the world do they get these massive boulders into place? I wondered, grateful to the anonymous rock-haulers who had eased my descent.

Nine months later, strapped like a mule to a six-hundred-pound chunk of granite near the crest of Yellow Mountain on the Georgia-North Carolina border, I have my answer: inch-by-inch, via teamwork, with plenty of thick, mud-grimed yellow webbing, sheer muscle, and lots of grunts and groans. “One … two … three!” barks Justin Farrell, crew leader with the Appalachian Trail Conservancy’s (ATC) storied Konnarock Trail Crew. Five guys hoist the rock a few inches off the ground and I drive my legs hard, tugging it forward a couple of feet. A dozen such efforts and we’re ready to maneuver the boulder into position for a single French drain on this one small section of the 2,189-mile Trail. “Working on the crew really makes you realize how hard it is to keep the Trail maintained,” observes volunteer Haley Holiman, a 20-year-old wildlife sciences student at Mississippi State University.

By Andrew Davidson

therapy to Navy Sailors, SEALs, and Marines returning from war, I thought I knew about grief. When my son was killed in a motorcycle accident, I knew nothing until I picked up my pack and started to walk. “If you aren’t at Katahdin, you ain’t nothing,” a hiker told me. But I found that it’s not about the destination, it’s the journey. It was the 2,198.2-mile journey from Georgia to Maine that took me to up the tops of mountains and down to deep despair. Tears of happiness during the day and tears of loss flooded my heart at night knowing that Aaron wasn’t here to walk with me.

I dealt with the void left from the death of my son the year before by filling it with hope that I found along the Trail. With the lightest gear I could afford, one pair of shorts, two shirts, and a floppy hat, I took to the Trail after an eleven-hour bus ride.

My gray beard grew as my clothes got baggier. I looked like something that climbed out from under a Grimm’s fairytale bridge. The Trail gave me the space to have a talk with the one I was most angry with — God. God’s world opened up when everything I owned was on my back and my only concern was the next white blaze.

Development is doing its own version of a NOBO (north-bound hike) — as we hosted and will host events in Atlanta, Washington, D.C., Pawling, New York and, of course, the Kathadin of all gatherings, the ATC Maine 2017 Conference in Waterville. It has been wonderful to see so many of you, old and new friends, come together to celebrate our beloved Trail and all the people who work hard to protect it. As interim director of Membership and Development, the conversations I’ve had have inspired me anew to listen, engage, and respond to our members and donors as well as to the needs of the Trail and its surrounding communities.

There have also been exciting happenings coming from our Harpers Ferry headquarters. As a result of conversations with the Appalachian Trail Conservancy’s (ATC) Next Generation Advisory Council, we’ve launched the Next Generation Membership program: a “pay your age” fee structure for members ages 18 to 30. Many young hikers and friends we met at Trail Days in Damascus, Virginia told us how much they liked it and were quick to join the ATC under the new fee structure.

Also, in response to many requests from members and friends looking for a meaningful way to honor a hike, a hiker, a volunteer, or memorialize a loved one, we are planning to break ground on a Memorial Garden adjacent to the Harpers Ferry Visitor Center. Plans include a “named brick” path with benches, shade trees, and native plants and flowers that will provide a peaceful stopping place for visitors as well as a living testament to the Trail’s meaning for so many who have walked its path. Please see page 20 for more about the garden.

We are thrilled that the ATC has been invited to participate in the National Scouting Jamboree in West Virginia. Over ten days in July, ATC staff and volunteers will be sharing information about the Trail, hiking and camping, conservation and resource management, Leave No Trace ethics, and short and long-term volunteer opportunities with an estimated 50,000 Jamboree attendees. The ATC is also developing an agreement with Girl Scouts of the Nation’s Capital to promote and encourage involvement of Girl Scouts as stewards, hikers, and members.

We are, as ever, grateful to all the donors, members, partners, and volunteers who support the Appalachian Trail Conservancy in our mission to protect and manage the Trail.

two years ago that I decided to take my oldest daughter to hike the A.T. with me. It was to be a bonding moment for she was to be leaving for a new job out of the city where we lived and I realized it would be a long time before she would return.

As a long-time hiker, Damascus, Virginia has always been a favorite town stop for me — easy to access, with multiple parking areas close to the Trail. I decided to do a quick overnighter north of town, driving to Elk Garden at Va 600 to park and hike in about 4.5 miles. It would be a fairly easy hike to the Thomas Knob Shelter and then set up camp surrounded by picturesque mountains and panoramic views.

I wanted this to be a special time that she would remember. I also wanted her to realize why I enjoyed hiking the A.T., what makes the Trail so special, and its importance. I wanted her to enjoy being out and being with me but more importantly I wanted her to get it, to connect to the Trail.

The hike was complimented by warm sunny weather and blue skies. Along the way, she took pictures of the wild ponies, the special fauna growing along the Trail, and the beautiful landscape surrounding us.