We parked the rental car in a lot in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, slung our CamelBaks over our shoulders and stretched for a minute or two.
Then we looked around, confused.
My friend Keri and I were in Harpers Ferry to take a very specific hike – but where was it?
“Um, excuse me?” I said, stopping a passerby. “Which way is the Appalachian Trail?”
Somewhere my dad is shaking his head.
The Appalachian Trail spans 40 miles across Maryland and nearly 2,200 miles across the United States. Keri Wiginton photo
You see, the Appalachian Trail, which covers 2,200 miles and crosses 14 states, was one of my dad’s great loves. He spent several years section-hiking his way across it, starting at the bottom in Georgia and working his way up. Whenever he could find the time, he’d take off for a week or two in his red F-150, stopping to visit family and friends on the way from Texas to the trail and inviting anyone interested to join him for a hike.
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Dad chipped away at this multiyear project and ultimately covered about 1,000 miles before his unexpected death in December 2022. The last place he reached was Harpers Ferry, West Virginia — the midpoint of the trail. Although we never hiked the Appalachian Trail together, I was fortunate to hear all of his stories, most of which were likely exaggerated for effect, from the crazy characters he met along the way to the time he almost literally fell off a cliff.
He loved the trail so much that hiking was one of the themes of his funeral, and there was a sign there that said: “When life gives you mountains, put your boots on and start hiking.” In the months following his death, desperate for a distraction from the grief that was smothering me, I found my thoughts increasingly turning to the trail. Maybe, I thought, I could pick up where he left off.
I enlisted Keri as my hiking partner for the first leg of the trail because she is one of my dearest friends and favorite travel partners. Plus, we survived (and delighted in) backpacking our way across Europe together twice as broke 20-somethings – surely we could also survive a few days in the woods in our 40s.
The Appalachian Trail courts hikers of all ages and abilities. Keri Wiginton photo
Most hikers, including my dad, carry tents and cooking gear with them and camp at designated shelters along the trail, mailing care packages to themselves in advance of their hikes as needed so they don’t run out of food. While Keri and I are both solid hikers, neither of us was too keen on camping, so we decided to dip our hiking-boot-clad toes in the water by instead slack-packing, or day hiking, the Maryland portion of the trail and spending nights in an Airbnb.
We divided up the 40 miles needed to cross Maryland into three day hikes: 16 miles on the first day, 15 miles on the second day, and 11 miles on the third day. In order to make it work, we both rented cars (matching Toyota Corollas, coincidently), leaving one at the day’s endpoint, then driving together to the starting point and hiking from one car to the other. It was a little cumbersome and time-consuming, but the rewards of a lighter pack and soft bed were well worth the hassle for two newbies.
Once we actually found the trail, it only took a few minutes for me to understand why my dad loved it so much. Because being on the trail wasn’t just about the destination. It was about the journey.
Hiking the trail allowed us to trade the distractions of emails, texts, and phone calls for the simplicity of putting one foot in front of the other. It let us stave off anxiety and stress and focus solely on the important task of following the trail’s white blazes – rectangles painted onto trees and rocks that assure hikers they’re on the right track. And it taught us a new appreciation of things like granola bars, Band-Aids, and trail names, which are nicknames bestowed on hikers by fellow travelers during their journey. (My dad’s trail name was “Old Fart,” which he relished.)
White blazes guide the way for hikers along the Appalachian Trail. Keri Wiginton photo
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As we walked, the words just fell out and we conversed for hours as we moved past stunning vistas and wartime monuments and craggy inclines, pausing to catch our breath when it got a bit too steep. Being on the trail allowed us to talk, really talk, about life in the way that adult friends rarely get to, delving into everything from the pandemic’s far-reaching implications on our families to the recent overwhelming losses we had both experienced that had fundamentally changed the fiber of who we are.
In the evenings, we nursed our sore bodies with hot showers, Julia Roberts rom-coms and bowls of ice cream, topped one night with candles in honor of Keri’s birthday.
Kristin Finan and Keri Wiginton on the Appalachian Trail. Keri Wiginton photo
One day after our hike I stopped into the Appalachian Trail Visitor Center, which is located in Harpers Ferry and is a popular destination for hikers who want to have their photo taken or their name recorded at the midpoint of the trail. I felt certain my dad had must have visited it after arriving in Harpers Ferry, no doubt triumphant and excited and ready to have his accomplishment noted before enjoying a well-deserved celebratory beer at the restaurant across the way.
I spent about an hour scouring through visitors logs and photo albums for signs that he had been there, to no avail. Disappointed and teary, I made my way outside when it occurred to me that I didn’t need the visitor center’s tangible evidence to commemorate my dad.
I already had his handwriting with me, the words “love always” from one of the many cards he wrote me, tattooed on my wrist. I already had his photo, too, inside the locket hanging around my neck. And his spirit, well, I could feel that everywhere on the trail.
Life is hard. Life is tragic. Life is beautiful.
I hope to finish what my dad started someday. I hope to get my own goofy trail name and have hilarious misadventures. I hope to walk alongside those who are dearest to me and have the types of deep conversations we never get to have. And I hope that I can repay friends like Keri who were with me at my most vulnerable and made me feel safe.
When life gives you mountains, put your boots on and start hiking, indeed.
I’m so grateful for these lessons. I’m so grateful for this adventure. And I’m so grateful for the opportunity to continue the journey.
Thanks, Dad.
George Finan on his beloved Appalachian Trail.
If You Go
Getting there:
The Appalachian Train traverses 2,200 miles between Georgia and Maine, passing through 14 states. Some hikers, called thru-hikers, complete the entire thing in one journey. Others, called section hikers, complete it in pieces over a span of months or years. The Maryland portion of the trail, which starts in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, and ends at the Mason Dixon Line in Pen Mar Park, is 40 miles.
Stay:
Most hikers choose to camp on the trail at designated shelters. If you prefer not to camp, ample Airbnb’s are available in the area.
Do:
When you tire of hiking, enjoy the great outdoors off the trail at Harpers Ferry Adventure Center, which offers everything from tubing, rafting, and kayaking to zipline adventures and ropes courses. https://harpersferryadventurecenter.com/
Eat and drink:
You’ll fall in love with Harpers Ferry Brewing, which features local craft brews as well as wine and ciders and absolutely stunning views of the Potomac River. https://harpersferrybrewing.com/
Info:
Download the Farout app for detailed information about the Appalachian Trail, and learn more at https://www.nps.gov/appa/index.htm.
