It was a chilly day in Austin, so over his long-sleeved T-shirt, he layered his beloved 1980s-era red puffy vest, a fashion item that had for years garnered him great teasing within our family.
Coffee in hand, cozy in his favorite vest, he walked outside to his truck and suffered a sudden heart attack right there in the front yard.
In an instant, his heart stopped and his life ended, all before his morning coffee went cold.
The suddenness of my dad’s death and my resulting grief-riddled devastation reframed my entire life. As I searched for answers, I found myself increasingly called to the Appalachian Trail, which my dad had been hiking in sections – starting at the beginning in Georgia and making it to the midway point in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia – in the four years prior to his death.
In summer 2023, six months after my dad died, I did my first leg of the Appalachian Trail, picking up where he left off in Harper’s Ferry. At the time, I thought my motivation for heading to the trail was solely to pay tribute to my dad, who would have turned 80 that August. In hindsight, though, I think what I really needed was an excuse to grieve and process this earth-shattering loss on the trail, on my own, without the inevitable noise that comes with raising six kids, corralling two barking dogs, and working several jobs.
Kristin Finan on the Eastern Portion of the Pennsylvania Appalachian Trail in April 2025. Kristin Finan photo
Since that first trip, I’ve fallen in love with the AT, returning multiple times and covering hundreds of miles, learning more about the trail, and myself, with each step. Most recently, I returned in early April to do my sixth leg, a 75-mile stretch notorious for being one of the most challenging parts of the entire 2,100-mile trail due to its incredibly rocky terrain.
In prior visits, I had never really contemplated my ultimate goal in hiking the AT; instead, I would simply focus on completing the next section at hand. This time, however, the knowledge that I was about to tackle such a difficult portion by myself stirred something new in me. If I could make it through this treacherous 75 miles to the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border, then maybe, just maybe, I could eventually make it to the trail’s ultimate endpoint of Mount Katahdin, Maine, too, and finish what my dad started in Georgia.
A mural marks the start and end points of the Appalachian Trail. Kristin Finan photo
ON THE TRAIL AGAIN
I should pause here to acknowledge something: I am, by no means, an elite hiker.
I don’t use any specialized equipment, I consider gummi bears the ideal trail snack, and I stay in Airbnbs every night instead of camping in shelters on the trail. As such, my trips to the trail can include some headaches, unexpected expenses, and, frankly, logistical nightmares.
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For example, since I don’t camp (I find that having a bed, a shower, and reliable electricity nightly greatly improves my personal progress and potential on the trail), I instead rent a car, park it at my anticipated endpoint for each day’s 12- to 15-mile hike, take a shuttle or an Uber to my starting point, then hike to my car.
White hash marks, also called “white blazes,” guide hikers along the very rocky Pennsylvania portion of the Appalachian Trail. Kristin Finan photo
For those unfamiliar with the AT, there are several ways to navigate it. The most basic way, and perhaps the most iconic, is to simply follow the line of white vertical hash marks – or “white blazes” – that are painted along the entirety of the trail. You can spy them on trees, predominantly, but also sometimes on rocks, signposts, bridges, or anywhere needed to keep hikers on the right track. As long as one is in view, you know you’re headed where you need to go.
Hikers leave notes in log books in shelters along the Appalachian Trail. Kristin Finan photo
In addition to the white blazes, there are several apps that provide guidance to the trail, including FarOut, which offers GPS tracking for hikers as well as relevant information such as mileage points for upcoming shelters, water access, parking areas, lookout points, and more.
It should be noted that portions of the AT are picture-postcard perfect. Think rolling green hills, bucolic pastures, babbling brooks, twee wooden bridges, and idyllic farmhouses. It should also be noted that Eastern Pennsylvania, nicknamed “Rocksylvania,” is not this way.
The view of the river from the Lehigh Gap portion of the Pennsylvania Appalachian Trail. Kristin Finan photo
Sure, certain parts are still breathtakingly beautiful, but thanks to its insanely rocky terrain, you can’t take a single step on this portion of the trail without worrying about rolling an ankle, stumbling, or falling down. It’s as if someone took the world’s largest and most diverse rock collection, dumped it in a long line on a mountaintop, and called it a trail. Unlike the Maryland portion, where I could do sub-20-minute miles due to the ground being relatively flat, Pennsylvania hiking is slow and unsteady, as you have to be looking at your feet constantly or you will definitely trip.
Perhaps no portion of the trail illustrates this point better than Lehigh Gap, a famously difficult section of the AT that involves bouldering, rock scrambles, and, at times, actual rock climbing. I tackled Lehigh Gap on my fourth day of the trip and, despite having been warned, still found myself clinging white-knuckled to a boulder’s facade in complete disbelief, muttering to myself, along with a few expletives, “Who calls this a trail??!” as a vulture circled above.
The Appalachian Trail is comprised primarily of rocks in Eastern Pennsylvania. Kristin Finan photo
Although I’ve had friends join me for other segments of the trail, this time, much to my mom’s chagrin, I did six days completely alone. And although I now feel confident hiking by myself, I will admit that there are inherent dangers, and scary moments, that can arise. My dad, for example, came back from one of his sections having barely survived a partial fall down a cliff. And last year, I was two inches from stepping directly on a rattlesnake before the unforgettable shake of its tail gave me a final warning.
Various creatures, including this Eastern newt, greet hikers along the Appalachian Trail. Kristin Finan photo
This time, I made it to the last day of my trip and was 5 miles from the Pennsylvania border when trouble arrived. Despite being careful and watching each step, I still managed to stumble on a jagged rock and fall, catching myself on both my hand and my knee before also smacking the left side of my face on a basketball-sized boulder. I sat up to find cartoon stars circling my head and faced a harsh reality: Even if I didn’t want to finish the remaining 5 miles, I had to. Because if I didn’t, there might not be anyone to come find me.
Thankfully, I made it to the Pennsylvania border a few hours later, but not without a massive black eye and an enormous bruise that took up the entirety of my left cheek serving as souvenirs and sobering reminders that no one leaves Pennsylvania, or the trail, completely unscathed.
OFF THE TRAIL
The label-maker motivational messages were everywhere. And, by the end of the week, I needed them.
“Don’t stop “‘til you’re proud” graced the coffee-pod container.
“Guess what? You’re on vacation” adorned the bathroom mirror.
“Today’s mood is up to you” stood post near the front door.
My home base for this leg of the trail was a beautifully updated lakeside tiny house built in 1891 in Kempton, Pa., near the part of the trail I was hiking. It was comfortable and brimming with amenities ranging from dozens of said motivational messages to a fridge stocked with breakfast fixins to a foot-soaking tub provided by owners Mark and Diane after they learned the reason for my visit.
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In addition to the innate challenge that comes with hiking the AT every day, another thing I love about these trips is the rare opportunity they afford me to explore and decompress during my time off the trail. I spent my evenings at the tiny home watching the sunset at the lake, catching up on podcasts, books, and playlists I’d missed, and chatting with friends about the day’s adventures.
The view of Leaser Lake in Lehigh County, Pennsylvania. Kristin Finan photo
I also made a point to explore the local area, eating out at restaurants each night. I was on a burger kick this go-round and was elated to relish perhaps the best burger of my life at Copperz Brewing Co., located, fittingly, in Hamburg, Pa. I also enjoyed the burger and giant pretzel at 1787 Brewing Company, named for the year the town of Hamburg was founded.
Perhaps my most memorable meal, however, came at Cooper’s Seafood House in Scranton, Pa., which I visited at the urging of my kids, who, like me, are big fans of the TV show “The Office.” You see, more than just a restaurant, Cooper’s is an “interesting dining tour experience” (their words) that includes, among other things, a bathroom completely decked out in Elvis memorabilia; an expansive, glass-cased toothpaste collection; and The Office Gift Shop, which offers a surprisingly delightful tribute to the iconic show.
Pam, Jim, Michael, and Dwight greet visitors to The Office Gift Shop inside Cooper’s Seafood House in Scranton, Pa. Kristin Finan photo
To step inside The Office Gift Shop is to be gifted the opportunity to take home tangible evidence of your favorite episodes. For example, “Dundie” trophies line a shelf inscribed with honors such as “best boss” and “worst salesman.” There are T-shirts with sayings such as “Scott’s Tots” and “Straight Outta Scranton.” And, of course, there’s plenty of “That’s What She Said” merch.
I should also mention that, although I went with yet another burger, the restaurant does, in fact, have a wonderful and broad seafood menu that includes Maryland crab cakes, coconut shrimp, lobster mac and cheese, fresh oysters, and seafood crepes.
THE ROAD AHEAD
I wore my sunglasses on the flight home in an effort to shield fellow passengers from my black eye and bruised, swollen face.
Normally, I would have started planning out the next leg of the trail as soon as I got home, but my body was so wrecked and my brain so exhausted that my recovery period was significantly longer than usual.
In fact, my thoughts didn’t turn to the trail again until two weeks later, when I was in my dad’s office and spied on his desk a stack of maps. My dad, an Air Force navigator, had loved maps and had apparently torn these six out of a Rand McNally U.S. Road Atlas.
Black marker lines started in Harper’s Ferry, which was circled, made their way up through Pennsylvania and continued up through the East Coast states to Mount Katahdin, Maine, which was underlined.
Map of the Pennsylvania portion of the Appalachian Trail drawn by George Finan. Kristin Finan photo
Suddenly, I understood. Once my dad had made it to the midway point in Harper’s Ferry, he had plotted out on maps the entire second half of the Appalachian Trail.
I know my dad had every intention of making it to the end of the AT in Maine. I also now know that life can change quicker than you can finish a cup of coffee.
As I continue walking north in my dad’s footsteps in the months and years to come, I’ll find solace in the fact that I don’t have to chart the course alone.
My dad already did it.
For himself. And, now, for me.
If You Go
Getting there:
Stay:
Do:
Eat and drink:
