intro: seth is section hiking the appalachian trail

let's get outside!

When I was in college, just a wee geology major (I know — can you believe it?), we used to drive to southwestern Virginia every other week each summer to spend a few days hitting rocks with hammers and recording their locations on a geological map. It was both the happiest and least happy time of my life. (For one, I didn’t know I had bipolar disorder, and I was not properly medicated.) But being out in the woods, eating apples I polished on my dirty shirt, crushing ticks with a sledgehammer, hiking across property lines to reach an outcrop glinting in the distance (I looked it up, the statute of limitations on trespassing in Virginia is 5 years, you absolutely cannot come for me) — that, I loved.

We were out in the field one day, traipsing through a lush green meadow, when we crossed a footpath about 18 inches wide. I was like, who the hell made a little path all the way out here?

“That’s the Appalachian Trail,” my professor replied, and he did not add, “You fucking idiot,” but he would have been well within his rights to do so.

So that was the AT — the ~2,200-mile-long trail that winds its way from Georgia to Maine, passing through 14 states, up mountains and across rivers, through vibrant small towns and 100-mile stretches of wilderness. I had of course heard of it and even hiked on it at various times throughout my life, but seeing it in Virginia made it feel real for the first time. It was just a footpath, and it was one that I could walk. I kind of lazily thought it might be nice to hike the whole thing one day.

For years I thought about the AT the same way I might think about an ex I might have parted from too soon. I read A Walk in the Woods, I occasionally thought about ambling down the trail. But life, as it always does, got in the way. After college, I moved away from the East Coast — first to Sacramento, then Chicago, then LA. When I moved back to Philly I thought: should I? (Could I?) I did some research. Thru-hiking the AT (i.e., hiking the whole trail at once) takes roughly four to six months, and my job — which claims to offer unlimited PTO — was like, you can absolutely take six months off, but there’s no way we’re going to pay you that whole time (totally fair, but also a dealbreaker, I famously need money to live).

But there’s another way you can hike the AT: a section hike, which is exactly what it sounds like. A hike you do in sections. I talked to HR and they agreed to give me two three-week breaks each year that I could spend hiking. Originally I planned to start this spring, but then I decided to get my top surgery first (can’t recommend getting top surgery enough. Boob sweat = HANDLED). Then this summer was busy. Every time is busy. Money is tight, always. I thought about pushing my first hike to spring 2026.

And then I was like… there’s never going to be a good time. You can walk outside your house and get hit by a bus at any minute. You’d better get busy living or get busy dyin’, etc. So: all this is to say: I’m going to start my section hike of the AT this September (beginning with the Pennsylvania section, and possibly some of NJ), and I’m going to be writing about the leadup to the hike, and I’m going to be posting my journal entries from the hike when I get back, and I’m excited! I hope you’ll join me on my first ~230-mile chunk of the world’s greatest trail.

Here are some questions I got about my hike when I posted about it on IG:

Are you going to do geology stuff while on the trip

Sure, I’ll look at a rock or two if there’s time. Geologically speaking, I am mostly excited to hike through my old field area in Mount Rogers, VA, where I plan on reconnecting with some of my old friends (rocks).

Ok but how will you get your Philly cheesesteaks???

There are actually a lot of small towns scattered along the AT where hungry hikers can get a room for the night or wolf down a cheeseburger for lunch or something. I don’t plan on eating any cheesesteaks (I have learned from my mistakes and no longer order cheesesteaks when I’m more than 20 miles outside of Philadelphia) but I am curious to see what I end up craving on the trail. (Usually I emerge from the woods feverish for Reese’s or, on the other end of the spectrum, fresh fruit.)

How did you decide the location and length

For my first hike, I wanted to stay relatively close to home for ease of getting on and off the trail. I also considered the time of year (September is late enough in the year that I didn’t really want to be hiking very far north) and difficulty (northern PA is known for being intensely rocky, but southern PA is relatively flat, which will be a nice way to start my hike). I have a rough goal of how many miles I want to do each day, but I’m planning on seeing how fast I can go once I’m on the trail and adjusting as needed.

Are you seeking cryptids

Yes; I’m going to fuck the Jersey Devil, marry the Mothman, and kill Bigfoot.

How r u feeling/ preparing for the mystical elements of the Appalachian woods

I am excited to commune with nature again. Every time I’m in the woods I feel like the tension that keeps my shoulders hunched up by my ears melts away and I can actually relax. I haven’t had a lot of time to think about the mystical aspects of the woods, since I’m mostly fixated right now on the practical ones, like what to do if a transphobic black bear decides to use my body for swatting practice (current plan: die quickly, so as not to be a bother).

Will you be using a trail name ?

For those of you who don’t know, trail names are a big part of the culture of the AT. Most peoples’ nicknames are like, someone saw me eating Cheetos so now my trail name is Cheeto. I would love to have a trail name, but I’ll wait for someone to bestow one upon me. (Unfortunately it is one of my core beliefs that giving yourself a nickname is very sad/uncool.)

Be our Bill Bryson

Not a question, but an excuse for me to rant for a second! No disrespect to Bill Bryson — I truly really like him and his writing style — but I did just re-read A Walk in the Woods and was really struck by two things: 1) the remarkably uncharitable way he writes about any body that’s larger than his (it was the 90s, I do get it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it), and 2) the fact that by the end of the book, he’s only completed 40% of the trail. Forty percent! Which is totally fine — not everyone finishes their hike, it’s deeply fucking hard — but it’s pretty wild that the best-known book about the AT is one that doesn’t even cover half of it.

That’s it for me, I have to refine my packing list and go try on 50 different pairs of hiking boots until I find the ones I want to be buried in! Happy trails!