Date: 2018-02-07
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Miles today: 0.0

I recently flipped through the 2018 Appalachian Trail Thru-Hikers¢ Companion, seeing what town services and hostels were new this year and which had been closed. It¢s a fine publication and in combination with Guthook¢s Hiking Guide App downloaded to my iPhone is really all the information I need for a thru-hike. Guthook increasingly includes information on town services as well, with user comments providing updates and current information. I got to thinking about the old days, before ATC and ALDHA started publishing the Companion, when the primary thru-hiking resource was The Thru-Hiker¢s Handbook, edited by Dan ¢Wingfoot¢ Bruce. Wingfoot was a fierce advocate of the Trail, making many friends and some foes. His comments on specific shelters led to hikers bunching up in the ¢good¢ shelters and avoiding the mousy ones. As the number of hikers increased, this exasperated the crowding. The Companion wisely omits those descriptions now. I miss Wingfoot's short wildflower guide, sorted by flower color. I found it very helpful in the days before cellphones and wildflower apps.  Wingfoot included a lot of trail lore that became part of the common hiker culture. I miss it. The Companion still has the ghost of Little Ottie Cline Powell haunting Punchbowl Shelter in Virginia, but no mention is made of the 1916 elephant lynching in Erwin, Tennessee. The Cherokee have been relegated to a brief mention in connection with Blood Mountain and as a possible side trip to Cherokee, North Carolina from Newfound Gap in the Smokies, but not a clue is given as to the extent of their lands crossed by the Appalachian Trail or what happened to them. I understand that there is a need to keep the weight of the Companion low, especially in competition with The AT Guide, published by David ¢AWOL¢ Miller. David manages to fit a tremendous amount of information into very little space, confusing my poor old eyes. It contains even less lore and contextual information than the Companion but is probably the more popular resource. As a result, many Appalachian Trail thru-hikers today hike with blinders on, unaware and unconcerned with the cultural and natural history of the lands they traverse.  That knowledge isn¢t necessary for a successful thru-hike any more than knowledge of pigment grinding, scaffolding construction, and plaster application is needed to appreciate Michelangelo¢s frescos on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It may just be a section hiker thing, but especially with the information available on the internet, I enjoy researching the section of the trail I will be hiking and learning its history, unique flora and fauna, and even its geology. I also learn about the maintaining club(s) for the section and about trail relocations and controversies, like proposed mines or power line crossings. These layers of meaning undergird my experience on the trail itself, making me feel even more connected to the Trail. Putting names to things doesn¢t diminish the sore muscles, blisters and ecstatic oohs and aahs one bit.So in this entry and the next, I¢ll explore, quite briefly, the cultural history of the Appalachian Trail, hoping to tempt you to learn more before or during your hike. Many towns have historical societies and museums. They are delighted to have a hiker visit, since so few do. When you hike into a town, ask yourself why the town exists and see if you can discover the reason. It¢s a good way to spend a zero day. I¢ve divided my discussion into the southern and northern halves of the Appalachian Trail, because the character of the trail changes remarkably at the Potomac River. South of the Potomac, most of the land traversed by the Trail is either in National Forest or within units of the National Park System, like the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Blue Ridge Parkway, Shenandoah National Park, or the Harpers Ferry National Historical Park. North of the Potomac, the Appalachian Trail tends to be within a relatively narrow corridor of land specifically purchased to protect the Appalachian National Scenic Trail (itself a unit of the National Park System) or on state park or game lands. The trail in the South is a story of the displacement of people during the creation of the national forests and parks. The trail in the North is a story of industrial development. Wars, specifically the French & Indian, Revolutionary and Civil Wars, color them both.I love the southern Appalachian Trail for its splendid isolation, especially the sections contained within national forests, including the Chattahoochee in Georgia, Nantahalla and Pisgah in North Carolina, Cherokee in Tennessee, and the George Washington and Jefferson Forest in Virginia. There¢s a feeling that the trees go on forever. Many times I am unable to hear any sound of civilization other than an occasional train whistle from a distant crossing. The only visible sign of humankind, other than the trail itself, are contrails far above. It¢s pleasant to think of the trees as having been there forever, like Longfellow¢s introduction to Evangeline:     This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,   Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,   Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic.The illusion is transitory, broken by stone walls, foundations of abandoned homesteads and villages, and graveyards. Patches of lily of the valley are lovely to see, but it¢s a nonnative plant that was commonly planted near homesteads. Looking closely, I can often find the foundation stones. Logging chains and broken blades are not uncommon. If you¢ve ever visited the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest near Robbinsville, North Carolina, 3,800 acres of virgin forest, you will sense the difference at once. There are remnants of old growth forest along the southern Appalachian Trail, around Three Rivers just north of Springer Mountain and a ravine north of Hot Springs, North Carolina that was too steep for profitable logging. Curiously, there may be more old growth forest along the northern Appalachian Trail: Mount Everett in southwestern Massachusetts and the Hermitage in Gulf Hagas in the Hundred Mile Wilderness in Maine.When I started hiking the Appalachian Trail, I didn¢t concern myself with these things. Finding my way and making my distances took my entire focus and effort. It was only on rehiking these sections, that I started to look around more and to stop and puzzle things out. Who were the people who lived on these lands? What happened to them? The internet made answers easy to find, and it adds another layer of meaning to the Appalachian Trail for me, often an unhappy layer.Start with the our country¢s shameful treatment of the Cherokee in Georgia and North Carolina. You won¢t leave the Museum of the Cherokee Indian in Cherokee, North Carolina without your own trail of tears. President Andrew Jackson, whose portrait currently graces the Oval Office and our $20 bill, signed the Indian Removal Act in 1930. Surely it is mere coincidence that the Georgia Gold Rush started in Dahlonega in 1929, that lands previously thought to be worthless were suddenly coveted?  Continue north to Great Smoky Mountains National Park, once part of the Cherokee homeland. With only a remnant Indian population after the forced removal, white settlers arrived, most engaged in subsidence farming, mining or logging on a small scale.  Industrial scale logging arrived In the late 19th century.  Large swaths of the present park had been clearcut by the time Congress authorized the national park in1926 and logging accelerated until the park was established in 1934. The white homesteaders, miners and loggers were gradually evicted. Additional communities were destroyed when the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam. The displaced people were promised construction of a road to access their family cemeteries. That would have been an environmental disaster and was finally averted in 2010 with a $52 million cash settlement to Swain County, North Carolina. The six miles of the road that were build, start in Bryson City and is officially designated Lakeview Drive. It is known to most as the Road to Nowhere, a reminder of the broken promise.As you walk through the Pisgah and Cherokee National Forests of North Carolina and Tennessee, evidence of the dispossessed is abundant. Pisgah National Forest, over 500,000 acres, started with 87,000 acres of land acquired from the Vanderbilt family, land that had been part of the Biltmore Estate. By the time of the Vanderbilt and U.S. Forest Service acquisitions, there had already been widespread farm abandonment and significant environmental degradation. Southern trees grow quickly and cover a multitude of sins. Private inholdings remain in the forest, often subsidence farms, some with tobacco allotments. Max Patch, 15 miles trail north of the Smokies, is maintained as open space by mowing operations today instead of by the grazing cows and sheep of a hundred years ago. The Cherokee National Forest has over 1,700 cultural properties within its boundaries. If you look carefully as hike, you will see the evidence of the Scots-Irish, German and English settlements dating back to the late 18th century, many of which were abandoned when large scale timber operations started in the 1880¢s.  About 375 miles of the Appalachian Trail pass through the George Washington and Jefferson National Forests in Virginia. The written histories of the forests on the U.S. Forest website reference land acquisitions but not the people who were displaced in the process. They left much behind.  Hiking Virginia means coming to grips with the evidence of slavery. Going to high school in Norfolk, Virginia in the mid-1960¢s, there was little mention of slavery. I was taught that what little slavery there was in Virginia was confined to Tidewater and the piedmont. The land in the mountains, I was told, was too poor to support plantations. My younger brother¢s sixth grade history textbook even referred to slavery as a benevolent institution. ¢Why, they were even given a Christmas drink!¢ Really. On a rainy zero day in Pearisburg, Virginia, I visited the Giles County Historical Museum in an 1829 Georgian manor house in the heart of downtown. I was particularly struck by one photo taken shortly after the Civil War of two women seated on a garden bench. A proper Southern white lady, dressed to the nines, is seated on one side of the bench. Beside her is an African American dressed in considerably simpler clothes and described as her ¢long time companion.¢  It didn¢t take much imagination to realize the companion was the lady¢s servant who had been her slave just a few years previously. The War meant that they could be photographed seated together, but I wondered if much else had changed. A bit further north in Amherst County, near Lynchburg and Lexington, I hiked through the remains of the Brown Mountain Creek Community. I was told at the time that it was a late 18th century community of freed slaves, some of whom owned slaves. I recently found a scholarly article on the website of the Natural Bridge Appalachian Trail Club: https://www.nbatc.org/pdfs/Barnes_2011a.pdf. The Brown Mountain Creek Community actually started with the 1868 purchase of 220 acres by Moses Richeson, who prior to emancipation had been enslaved on the Jesse Richeson plantation there. By 1878, the African American community covered 354 acres, freely trading with surrounding white merchants. The community thrived even as industrialization came to Lynchburg. Having polluted the James River, Lynchburg turned to the Pedlar Creek basin for its water supply. Coincident with the rise of Jim Crow laws and possibly the embarrassment of having a prosperous African American community in their midst, the City of Lynchburg started purchasing land in the drainage basin in 1906 with the stated purposes of protecting its water supply and for recreational purposes. By 1920, the Brown Mountain Creek Community was history and its residents dispersed.During the creation of Shenandoah National Park in the 1930¢s, the Commonwealth of Virginia exercised its power of eminent domain and forced about 2,800 people from their homes. Walking through a cemetery near Big Meadows Wayside, I noticed an unusual family name that was shared by one of my clients. I asked her, and found that her former husband¢s family was among the dispossessed. The planning for park facilities in Jim Crow Virginia included racial segregation. All of the concessions were designated ¢whites only¢ with the exception of Lewis Mountain Campground, set aside for African Americans. The dining room at Lewis Mountain reportedly had the best food and music in the Park. Whites were allowed to dine there, but only at certain tables, and they had to be gone before the dancing started. By the early 1950¢s, Shenandoah National Park was fully integrated. Unfortunately for today¢s hikers, the dining room at Lewis Mountain is no more, but cabins can still be rented.  Walking through the southern Appalachians is more than a remembrance of displaced people and enslaved people. It¢s also walking through wars.  Blood Mountain in Georgia is said to have gotten its name from a battle between the Creek and Cherokee Nations that left so many dead that the ground ran red with blood. I prefer to think that Blood Mountain got its name from the flame azaleas that turn the mountain red in the Spring. Wishful thinking on my part. On Cold Spring Mountain in Tennessee, just north of Big Butt, is a small cemetery. Buried in a common grave are David Shelton and his nephew William, Union soldiers from Madison County, North Carolina who were ambushed by Confederate troops in 1864 while returning home for a family gathering. There¢s a third body buried in the common grave, Millard Fillmore Haire, a13-year old relative who was leading them home. In 1915, the U.S. Government erected gravestones for the Shelton boys, but because Millard was a civilian, his stone had to wait until his family could afford one and could obtain permission from the Forest Service to erect it.  At Yellow Mountain Gap, just north of Roan Mountain, the Appalachian Trail crosses the Overmountain Victory National Historic Trail that commemorates the route followed by mountain men from east Tennessee, who in 1780 marched 330 miles to turn the tide of the pivotal Revolutionary War Battle of Kings Mountain near Charlotte, North Carolina.  During the Civil War, the Blue Ridge gaps in central and northern Virginia saw frequent troop movements and skirmishes, with major battles in Front Royal and throughout the Shenandoah Valley. The present Appalachian Trail marks the western border of John S. Mosby¢s Confederacy from Snickers Gap to Manassas Gap.   Robert Harper purchased the land that would be known as Harpers Ferry from Lord Fairfax in 1751. It is ironic that a town founded by a Quaker would become an armory operated by the U.S. Government, producing in excess of 600,000 muskets, rifles and pistols and pioneering the use of interchangeable parts in firearms manufacture. In 1859, abolitionist John Brown seized the armory in a failed effort to spark a slave rebellion. The raid ended with his capture by U.S. Army Colonel Robert E. Lee and his hanging two years later.  During the Civil War, Harpers Ferry changed hands eight times. The lower town of Harpers Ferry is a National Historical Park. Heading south from Lower Town, the Appalachian Trail threads between St. Peter¢s Roman Catholic Church and St. John¢s Episcopal Church. Both served as hospitals during the Civil War. St. Peter¢s survived intact and remains an active parish. St. John¢s stands in ruins. Go figure. The headquarters of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy is located above the historic town, adjacent to the campus of Storer College, an historically black college that operated until 1955. The campus is now used as an interpretive center for the National Park Service. The first meeting of the Niagara Movement on U.S. soil was led by W. E. B. Du Bois at Storer College in 1906. Founded in 1905, the Niagara Movement was opposed to the accommodation and conciliation policies of African-American leaders such as Booker T. Washington and is viewed as the precursor to the NAACP.  In 2005, I served as treasurer of Appalachian Trail Conservancy. One of my fellow board members was Robert Stanton, retired director of the National Park Service, the first African American to hold that position and the last director to have been a career civil service employee. The board meetings were held on the Storer College campus. I was between committee meetings and was clearing my head by walking around the campus. Bob arrived late and apologized, saying that it couldn¢t be helped, that he had just delivered the keynote address at the centennial cerebration of the Niagara movement. He asked if I knew what that was.  I answered in detail, having just read the historical marker at the Storer College gates. He asked, ¢How do you know that?¢ I responded, ¢It¢s my history.¢ He looked at me closely and asked, ¢You black?¢ I answered, ¢No, but it¢s my history.¢ And that¢s the way I feel about everything I¢ve written above.  A story that is largely forgotten among hikers is the Hanging Elephant of Erwin, Tennessee. In September 1916, The Sparks World Famous Shows Circus played Kingsport, Tennessee. The star of the show was Mary, the largest circus elephant of the day. A homeless man without any experience was hired as the assistant elephant trainer and assigned to lead the elephant parade, riding on Mary¢s back. At one point, Mary stopped to reach down and nibble on a piece of watermelon, and her new trainer reprimanded her, striking her with an elephant hook. Previously, Mary had always been treated with kindness, and she didn¢t react well to the cruel treatment, snatching the new trainer off her back with her trunk and throwing him to the ground. She then stepped on his head, crushing it. The crowd chanted, ¢Kill the elephant; kill the elephant!¢ Five shots were fired to little effect, and rumor has it that attempts were made to poison Mary and even to electrocute her. By then Mary was becoming suspicious. The following day, Mary was brought by train to the Clinchfield Railroad switching yard in nearby Erwin and hanged by the neck from a railcar-mounted crane. As bad as the elephant hanging was, two years later, the citizens of Erwin lynched Tom Devert, an African American man accused of grabbing a 15 year old white girl. The remaining African American citizens were driven out of Erwin. Today, Erwin is ashamed of its role in the lynching of the elephant. African Americans comprise 0.29% of the population of Erwin. By comparison, Kingsport and Johnson City, Tennessee are 4.22% and 6.4% African American, respectively. As Wingfoot put it, ¢Erwin is an increasingly friendly town for elephants.¢I¢m neither Cherokee, a mountain man, a Son of the Confederacy, a murderer of elephants, nor enslaved. In hiking the Appalachian Trail, I become all of these things and they become my history. I regret that so many hikers see the Trail only as a path to adventure. It is so much more, even if the stories are not always happy ones.