Soren West - Northbound With Theo: A Man and His Dog Thru-Hike the Appalachian Trail at Ages 75 and 8

Cover and page design by Cliff Snyder

Northbound with Theo

Copyright 2022 by Soren West

Book photos by, or supplied by, Soren West, except: photos on by Mike Mayberry; and back cover by Jenny Schulder.

All maps, except is from the Appalachian National Scenic Trail Resource Management Plan.

Paperback: 9781947597464

PDF, EPUB, and Kindle: 9781947597471

Library of Congress Control Number: Data available.

Northbound with Theo is published by Walnut Street Books, Lancaster, Pennsylvania

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations in connection with reviews written specifically for inclusion in magazines or newspapers or limited excerpts strictly for personal use.

To my wife, Bonnie, and our five children, Soren, Christopher, Emily, Nathan, and Marian, whose love and support was like a slow-burning fire igniting my resolve to fulfill a life-long goal of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail.

The Appalachian Trail is a long ribbon of dirt, rocks, roots, fields, woods, hills, and valleys stretching from Springer Mountain in Georgia to mile-high Katahdin in Maine. For some of us, it lives inside like a song you cant stop singing. Its challenges and scenery capture our imaginations. But few of us can articulate clearly why we want to hike the Appalachian Trailthe AT. Its just out there, tugging at something within like gravity, ever present to those who just have to climb.

People who do the whole trail in one year are called thru-hikers. More than 3,000 people attempt such a hike every year, but only a quarter to a third finish. While there are more men than women on the trail, that margin is disappearing.

About 80% of thru-hikers are northbound. The remainder are southbound. Or they flip-flop, meaning they hike to or from somewhere in the middle to the north or south end of the trail, and then do the other half. Many start a flip-flop at Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, the home of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) whose mission is to preserve and manage the trail. The ATC keeps a picture and log of every thru-hiker who stops, helping make Harpers Ferry the psychological center of the AT.

The trail passes through 14 states: Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. One-fourth of the trail is in Virginia.

A direct flight from end to end of the AT is 1,100 miles. The long ribbon of dirt, however, is twice that, at close to 2,200 miles, up and over, but rarely around, some 510 mountains. While the distance changes because of necessary rerouting, the hike is longer than a crows flight from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to Caracas, Venezuela, or to Calgary, Canada, or to Kangerlussuaq, Greenland. The elevation change is the equivalent of 16 ascents up Mount Everestfrom sea level!

Typical 3-sided shelter, inside and out

There are approximately 180,000 white blazes marking the trail, each two inches by six inches. They are found on trees, rocks, fence posts, and roads. Sometimes the distance between blazes is long enough to cause hikers to wonder if theyve gone off the trail. And sometimes they have. There are 260 shelters on the trail, most three-sided structures of log or stone.

By far, most thru-hikers are in their 20s. The next largest group are in their 50s or 60s, with very few 70 or older. I was the fifth person to finish at 75 or older. As of the end of 2020, there are ten of us.

Of course, there is a good bit of wildlife on the trail. Certainly deer, bears, and snakes. Rarely seen are wild boars, bobcats, and coyotes. In Maine there are moose. In general, there is little danger from wildlife because they want to avoid you as much as you want to avoid them, except to see them at a safe distance. But care must be taken with food.

Maybe one percent of hikers bring a dog. I count myself very fortunate to have hiked with my eight-year-old golden retriever, Theo, who carried saddlebags with his own food and my water.

Theo posing in Tennessee

Those who take to the AT have Benton MacKaye and Myron Avery to thank. MacKaye studied forestry and planning at Harvard College. He was a dreamer who, in 1900 atop Stratton Mountain in Vermont, envisioned a trail along the peaks of the Appalachians. He wanted to provide wilderness recreation for congested East-Coast city-dwellers. Myron Avery, a Harvard-trained admiralty lawyer, was a get-it-done kind of person who frequently bucked heads with the dreamer as he pushed hard to get the trail built.

The dreams and hard work of these two men have helped countless people come down to earth to climb toward the heavens. Join Theo and me for all four seasons in the wilderness of the AT.

Ive always been in search of somethingsomething beyond the confusion inside and the struggles of daily life. Mountains stand there. You dont argue with them. Humans tear them down and run riot over and around them in off-road vehicles, but a mountain is permanent, grand, and eternal. It may be shot through with an underground highway, yet still it stands.

Mountains call to many of us in a way we simply cant resist. They may ask that we reach into our depths to join them, especially those that stretch into the heavens. They require that we take the long view, past endless obstacles. They offer us a vision and stir a deep and consuming hunger that will not relent until we reach and struggle to attain their heights.

As I spent myself climbing all 510 mountains of the Appalachian Trail, I was not alone. Another being came with me, not two feet off the ground, always at my heels, muzzle in my lap, by my side or leading the way. One who almost always kept me in his sights, following me no matter how far I went or how high I climbed. Never mind the snows or rain or heat or rivers to ford, Theo was always with me.

Ive come to accept that Theo often knows me better than I know myself. He can look at me with a steady gaze, his kind face evoking the child within me. My long-ago inner self wakes up to the gentle presence of this creature who loves me with minimal judgment. He is steadfast, ever-present, totally dependent, and completely devoted. Our affinity was instantaneous. Our 250 days on the trail together simply cemented our bond with mutual adoration.

I grew up in suburban Connecticut. My dad commuted into New York City where he worked as a salesman for a large paper company. He had gone to Mount Hermon School in northern Massachusetts, and then to Yale, and from there followed his classmates to New York. He had high aspirations for my only sibling, an older brother who had ADD before anyone knew what that was. He had a high IQ, but school was not for him, even though seeing that he had a good education was a great source of pride for our father, whose heart was riveted to his firstborn.