Professor gets out of the classroom, into nature during breaks from JMU
Posted on September 4, 2008
Deep in the backwoods of northern Maine stands a 4,292 foot mountain called Katahdin. This illustrious bump in Earth’s surface marks the end of the Appalachian Trail for many northbound hikers, including Katherine Kessler, a writing and rhetoric professor. Surrounded by cone-shaped evergreens, it is not only fenced in by beauty, but it is the subject of the hiker’s final quest on an epic journey through more than 2,200 miles of wilderness. The expedition to the foot of this beast is a magnificent one that spans across a 14-state stretch of terrain containing flatlands, mountains, boulders, valleys, lakes and rivers.
The Appalachian Trail is a slice of geographical heaven, but only for the few people who are willing to challenge its beauty. Only slightly more than 10,000 brave souls claim to have hiked this monstrous trail since the 1930s — many start out, few finish.
Kessler is a proud member of this fraternity of hikers and vagabonds who have completed the trail in its entirety. She finished two years ago at the zenith of Mount Katahdin. Kessler hiked the trail in sections over the course of half a decade. Starting at her home in south central Pennsylvania, she hiked south, reaching the Maryland border only to head back north to the lip of the New York line, finishing the 265 miles in Pennsylvania. Once that was completed, she knew she was onto something.
“I never had any intention of doing the whole thing,” she said. But Kessler finds it difficult to quit something once she’s started.
A goal was then established: to hike every inch of the Appalachian Trail. Kessler set off in northern Georgia at the foot of Springer Mountain with nothing more than an old boy scout’s external-frame pack containing a headlamp, a fleece jacket, a sleeping bag, a foam mat, one pound of granola, a couple industrial-sized trash bags, one water bottle, a pen and a paperback.
“I made sure my pack never weighed more than 15 pounds,” she said.
Her work cut out for her, she decided to attack the trail in sections, completing it whenever she had free time. Over the course of the next five years, she would hike for weeks at a time during school breaks at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and summer. The benefit of this approach is that she is one of the few people to have experienced the trail in all four seasons.
While many hikers decide to hike the Appalachian Trail in couples or groups, Kessler decided to hike alone.
“I tend to be rather cautious around other people. I mean I’m shy by nature and introverted. I guess I tend to think the world is a dangerous place,” Kessler said. “But I found that on the trail, that is just not the case. Almost everyone out there on the trail is out there because they’ve got their own journey, they’ve got their own thing that they’re doing, and they really understand somebody who likes to be alone.”
Using her trail-name (a pseudonym that every AT hiker gives himself or herself), “Semi-Sweet,” Kessler was on a personal journey to Mount Katahdin. Along the path she met many single-serving friends, but also said that she could go for days without seeing another person.
Unique to the trail culture, people find that fellow hikers will more often than not drop their birth name entirely and go strictly by their trail names.
“I never met one person that did go by their real name,” Kessler said. “It just saves time, and you just end up adopting a totally different persona anyway.” A man who plays the drums in the real world is called “Thumper” on the trail. A woman beginning a new life with nature is named “New Leaf.”
In addition to naming rituals and other unique aspects of trail culture, there are what some would call “trail extremists.” There is a place called “Rusty” south of Harrisonburg where AT hikers are allowed to rest their ailing bodies at a comfortable cottage in the woods. The catch is that it’s strictly exclusive to thru-hikers, or hikers who aim to complete the trail in one attempt. Meaning that the people who choose to do the AT in sections are simply not welcome. People take this really seriously, and it’s no joking matter, Kessler said.
It’s common for many hikers to forgo bathing entirely for months on end. You’re just going to get sweaty and dirty anyway, Kessler said. Woodsmen will grow their beards to Civil-War-general size. Kessler, however made a point to bathe regularly and wash her clothes on a daily basis, bringing some sense of cleanliness to an otherwise wild lifestyle.
Besides the people on the trail, Kessler was lucky enough to be graced by the wonders of wildlife in its natural habitat. Wild moose drinking from the shore off of a lake in Maine, Coyotes silhouetted against a bright full moon, wild horses prancing in an open field, rattlesnakes napping in a dirt hole, black bears, hawks, eagles, the list goes on. Some of the wildlife presented some fearful experiences.
One night, Dr. Kessler was lying in her sleeping bag under a moonlit sky, when she was awoken by the weight of an unknown creature pressing on top of her chest. She immediately felt panic set in as she figured it was most likely a rattlesnake. Working up the courage to grab her headlamp with a free hand she flicked it on only to be pleasantly surprised. A convoy of dozens of thumbnail-sized Hop-toads were inching their way across her chest in a neat-lined formation.
Years in, and many miles behind her, Kate approached the most arduous section of the whole trail: Mahoosuc Notch in southern Maine. This one-mile stretch of land proves to be the most difficult for most hikers. This section takes hikers through a crevasse of two collapsed mountains and its deceased remains that lay jumbled in a maze of house-sized boulders. Even with a blue sky above and all the elements at bay, this still takes a half of a day to complete. Despite this painful crunch of terrain, Kate trucked on with confidence.
“At no point did I ever question myself, at no point did I ever think, ‘this is too difficult,’” Kessler said.
Eventually, after five years of trudging through backbreaking terrain, Kessler stood atop the mighty peak of Mt. Katahdin, crying. She had completed a task that so few have.
More than 2,200 miles of land to her back, she continues to look ahead to a future with more goals yet to be accomplished. Currently, she has two projects she’s chipping away at: obtaining a pilot’s license, and learning to sail. She’s a full time university professor on top of it all.
Hiking was just a part of her ambition, and she boils it down in raw terms.
“Hiking is so simple,” she said, “Just walk.”
