The Blowdowns

On September 26, 2024, Hurricane Helene struck the Florida panhandle and clamored its way northward across land for several days, causing devastation along the Appalachian Trail in Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina. Communities and towns in the path of the storm were ravaged. SOBO’s in the 2024 thru hiking season, especially those further back in the lineup like myself, faced unique challenges on the trail as a result. In many ways these obstacles were unprecedented as hundreds of miles of trail were initially closed after the storm, and assessment in the hardest hit areas was grim. Thousands of trees were blown down and uprooted along White Blaze Avenue, making many miles impassable and dangerous. Southbounders closer to the front lines of the storm had little choice but to pause their hikes, end them, or jump down to Springer and work their way up, hoping the dust would settle in the meantime. Trail communities like Damascus, VA, Erwin, TN, and Hot Springs, NC were devastated by unimaginable flooding. SOBO morale on trail was bleak as the assumption was that we would not be able to finish our hikes due to the extensive damage, or we would have to skip around a several hundred mile section, inevitably leading to an incomplete hike. Initially, those of us who remained on trail resigned ourselves to simply go as far as we could and hope to return in the future to complete our hikes. That was a hard pill for me to swallow because I had already worked so hard and risked so much for this thru hike, saving every penny I could, launching a successful Kickstarter campaign, and quitting my job. Returning to finish my hike didn’t feel realistic, plus I wanted the true thru hike experience—the “continuous footpath” from Maine to Georgia.

A washed out bridge in Erwin, TN that is literally the trail. I would eventually be shuttled to the other side.

View of the bridge washed downstream.

A structure on the French Broad River in Hot Springs, NC

A debris pile along the French Broad River in Hot Springs, NC

A shop downtown Hot Springs, NC.

Flood damage inside the shop.

A Momentary Loss of Hope

I was just crossing into New York out of Connecticut when the storm hit and only saw one day of rain and minor residual effects from the storm. I was very fortunate to be affected minimally, but it was an odd feeling to wake up every day, venturing onto the trail in uncertainty about the future, wondering how long it would be before I’m forced to tuck tail and end the journey. I knew a few SOBO’s well ahead of me that I kept in contact with about trail conditions. One group that pioneered the new ruptured frontier told me that best case scenario, I would probably be road walking around 100-130 miles of trail by the time I arrived where they were. Not the thru hike I envisioned. So I learned to imagine a new hike and accept it as a unique opportunity on the AT. After all, just about every year on the PCT, hikers are forced to reroute or skip around sections because of wildfires, and up to this point the AT has largely been immune from these kinds of catastrophic interventions. I would just have to shift my mindset to that kind of hike; but even then it felt strange to continue my hike when so much suffering and anguish was afflicting the lives of so many at the hands of this unprecedented storm. Devastated communities around the AT were pouring all their resources and energy into helping towns and their citizens, and the trail was the last thing on the minds of these communities…or so I thought.

For Love of the Trail

When I arrived at the ATC headquarters (Appalachian Trail Conservancy) in Harpers Ferry, WV on October 30th—just over a month after the storm struck—they spoke to me and other SOBO’s in a way that categorically denied the possibility of finishing the trail this year. They lamented trail conditions as years out from recovery and communities as more concerned about investing resources into more important humanitarian efforts—understandably. It was really discouraging, especially when you look at them as the authority of the AT. “How far are you going?”, one worker asked me after taking my picture for the annual hiker log they keep. I just looked at her with a mild intensity and replied, “All the way to Springer.” She shot back that it wasn’t possible and I would have to think about how I wanted to end my hike. I remember in that moment feeling this tiny flame of holy rebellion kindling in my spirit, one that would eventually catch fire and spread through my veins to my heart, stirring a hardened resilience in me that would eventually be a crucial guide through very difficult portions of future trail. I would need that resilience later as I witnessed firsthand the devastation left behind by Hurricane Helene. It was because of this storm that I learned how important the Appalachian Trail is to a lot of people. It’s not just some dirt path to walk for fun or a superficial means of escape into nature for a spell; it is the lifeblood and rallying point of many communities, and there are a lot of people who care deeply for it. It’s like a vagus nerve coursing through the hills and mountains of the eastern seaboard, a central pillar of humanity standing tall and strong as a beacon of hopes and dreams for thousands of people. And these communities were ready and eager to wield their chainsaws, hatchets, hand saws, brute strength, and indomitable wills to resurrect the trail from what seemed like a death sentence. Not quite the story the ATC was spinning, Lord bless ‘em.

Real American Heroes

I’ll fast forward at this point to the happy ending. I continued to push forward on trail, and by the end of my time in hurricane-affected sections, I only bypassed (via road walking) 9.3 miles of trail. That’s all. How was this possible after so much damage? How did roughly 131 miles of impassable trail suddenly become passable? Trail crews, that’s how. Trail crews who love and care for their own stretch of dirt along the AT. Crews, along with scores of volunteers, wasted no time reclaiming the trail. Initial strategy was to “punch through”, meaning they would clear the worst sections of blowdowns and leave what could be reasonably navigated. This left sections of trail passable at best and still required a lot of work by hikers to get through, but passable nonetheless. There were some uncleared blowdown sections I had to navigate that I later discovered are tangled up in red tape. These are the “wilderness” areas of the trail. Because of strict by-laws, any section of trail legally recognized as wilderness area cannot be cleared using power tools. So no sawyers, no chainsaws. The only way to clear these sections is by hand saw. So imagine those old sepia toned photographs you’ve seen of two burly, suspendered, sweaty men passing a long, double handled saw back and forth between them, cutting a massive log in half. This is how crews must clear these sections—with hundreds of downed trees. These runs of trail were understandably not tended to by the time I arrived to them, and may not be for many months. So that meant climbing over, around, and through fields of blowdowns. Sometimes it required hiking down or up very steep embankments and bushwhacking hundreds of yards around fallen clumps of trees that were blocking very narrow bench cut sections of hillside trail. Several days I had to do this in three to four inches of snow. One eight mile uncleared section just south of the Virginia/Tennessee border I maneuvered at night, in the rain, enshrouded in a blanket of fog that at times only allowed several feet of visibility. That was a low moment on trail for me.

A New Hope

A faint glimmer of hope first appeared to me on Thanksgiving Day. I happened to land at Woods Hole Hostel in Pearisburg, VA where they welcomed me in for a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. I was able to rest for a couple days and helped out around the farm (side note, if you’re hiking the trail, this is an absolute must stop hostel!). Someone there told me on good authority that the trail had been cleared all the way to Damascus, VA, which would mean I could white blaze the entire state of Virginia! SOBO’s ahead of me weren’t able to do that. It would be a couple weeks before I would have to make the decision to road walk or take the trail, but I knew immediately I wanted to try to stay in the dirt. The northern most part of hurricane damage starts at Elk Garden, VA at Route 600 just south of the Grayson Highlands. This is SOBO mileage 1701.6 / NOBO 495.1. When I arrived to this section, there was fluorescent ribbon and a warning sign blocking the trail, announcing this section closed until October 2025. But with a deep breath I pushed the ribbon gently toward the sky and passed under it, hoping for the best. I immediately climbed Whitetop Mountain and got my first look at the initial damage. Trees were strewn about the peak like toothpicks, some so old and big they laid across each other like fallen giants in battle. The approach had been cut through by trail crews, making access fairly easy. But I was in awe at the number and size of trees that had blown down. From this seven mile section of trail I ventured down to Hwy 58 toward Lost Mountain Shelter. The first mile into this section was smooth, but right around the bend I encountered my first large, uncleared blowdown field to navigate. From there to Damascus, the next 15 or so miles were touch and go through the Mt. Rogers recreation area with large sections of blowdowns and smooth sections of trail. Most of the eastern facing mountain sides were hit hard with damage, some of which was cleared and some which wasn’t. Uncleared areas were difficult to maneuver at times and became like puzzles to solve, climbing every way around and over debris fields, sometimes having to remove my pack to shove through tree trunks or branches. The damage quickly became overwhelming. There was something unsettling about being in a place that suffered so greatly under the forces of nature. Maybe it was my empathetic tendencies, but before long, I felt a welling sense of anxiety being in the presence of such overwhelming destruction and not fully knowing how bad things would continue to be. This feeling didn’t end for 131 miles. When I arrived to Damascus and visited an outfitters to grab a couple items, they asked me how the road walk into town was. “Oh I white blazed here!”, I replied. Someone who knew the trail well and had his finger on its local pulse said I was the first he’d heard of that took the trail into town, but I’m sure there were others before me.

Initial contact with blowdowns.

The only closure I experienced was the elation I felt getting through this section.

The Future Trail

If you’re planning a 2025 thru hike or are just generally curious about the trail damage I encountered, this section’s for you. Like I mentioned above, the good news is that I only had to skip around 9.3 miles of the AT by road walking, but it was by no means an easy hike through hurricane ravaged stretches of trail. There were still hundreds of blowdowns that I encountered and had to navigate. The even better news for the 2025 hiking class is that conditions will be better by the time they dig heels into the trail. So by way of insight, these are some of the sections of trail I maneuvered through. First, I’ll break down the parts I road walked, as these were the most impassable sections of the trail I encountered:

IRON MTN GAP, TN/NC to BEAUTY SPOT GAP, TN/NC

Going SOBO, Iron Mountain Gap at TN 107/NC 226 was total decimation. This is mile 1832S / 364.7N and includes Unaka Mountain. From here south to Beauty Spot Gap is a stretch of trail that is truly impassable, about eight miles total. Entire mountain sides were blown down as if they were being logged. I heard this section also experienced avalanches that washed out some of the trail, but having bypassed it I obviously didn’t witness that with my own eyes. When I arrived here, I could tell that work had already begun on the trail, but I also knew it didn’t go very far. I would be surprised if this section is opened for 2025, but hey, trail crews are full of surprises!

SPIVEY GAP, TN TO WHISTLING GAP, TN

This section is mileage 1863.4S / 333.3N to 1865.6S / 331.1N. When I arrived at Spivey Gap, I had some loose intel that this section had been cleared, so I ventured in SOBO but only made it 1.3 miles. Down trees were cleared up to this point, but after that when I arrived at a bend in a hollow, I was met with a massive blowdown field, almost a mile long with hundreds upon hundreds of fallen trees. It was impossible to tell where the trail was without using the GPS in the Far Out app. At the time there was three inches of snow on the ground and it was actively snowing, so not the best conditions for climbing over and under blowdowns. But there was something eerily beautiful about all the hundreds of snow covered blowdowns lying gently around the hillsides as if in deep sleep. After initially attempting to make it through this field, I thought better of it and bailed, turning back after about a hundred yards and doing a forest road walk up to Whistling Gap. I know of a couple hikers who made it through this section, but it’s definitely perilous and I wouldn’t recommend it if it’s not cleared. From Whistling Gap SOBO, there were lots of difficult blowdowns to navigate until around Bald Mountain Shelter (1869.1S / 327.6N) where it cleared up.

The root ball of a blown over tree. The uprooted section is the trail.

 

PISGAH NATIONAL FOREST

This situation was tricky. North Carolina and Pisgah National Forest were late to the trail clearing party. For whatever beuracratic reason it might entail, PNF sections in NC were not cleared but Cherokee National Forest sections in Tennessee were. Beginning just south of the Roan Highlands in Tennessee (1804S / 392.5N), the trail meanders in and out of these territories without any indication of where you are. Hikers were told to stay out of PNF, but it just wasn’t a realistic demand given the lack of defined borders and the reality of the trail criss-crossing throughout Cherokee and Pisgah forests. So most SOBO’s just sent it through Pisgah without a hitch. I could tell when I was hiking through PNF because it was a jungle gym. But I’m sure it will be cleared by the 2025 hiking season.

DENNIS COVE ROAD

This is mile 1776.5S / 420.2N. I only include this section because it’s a good story. When I arrived here, all intel pointed to the next eight to eleven miles as uncleared and mostly impassable. I was hiking with two other SOBO’s at the time, Peacefoot and Carmen San Diego. When we pulled up to the trailhead, we veered off left to begin a road walk on Dennis Cove Road, knowing it wouldn’t be worth an attempt to bushwhack and tree hop this difficult section. When we got about a mile down the road, a car stopped to talk to us. There were two men in it, part of the local trail crew. They informed us that they had just finished clearing all but about 3/4 mile of this section earlier in the day. Peacefoot and Carmen decided to continue the road walk because Carmen was nursing an injured ankle and could use a smooth surface to walk on for a bit. I turned back to the trail, and right before I reached it, a second car pulled up, in it a man and his son. They informed me that they had just come off the mountain and finished clearing the last 3/4 mile! I was amazed at the work these crews and volunteers had accomplished in this section as I walked through giant fields of blown down, chain sawed trees. In some areas they rerouted the trail entirely because they couldn’t find the original footpath!

View of Moreland Gap Shelter south of Dennis Cove Road, TN. It was completely destroyed by Helene.

View from inside Mountaineer Falls Shelter, TN, which miraculously survived despite being completely surrounded by blowdowns.

I call white blazed down trees “fallen soldiers”.

Year of the SOBO?

I’ve heard the idea floating around that trail crews are asking hikers to consider a flip-flop hike for the 2025 season, starting north out of Damascus. This would allow trail crews more time to work free of interruption instead of having hundreds of hikers constantly pumping the brakes on progress. I guess the idea here is that hikers can still get their hang tags at the ATC center in Damascus then start heading north. The problem with this approach is that you immediately begin in a section that is supposedly closed until October 2025. Admittedly, I went through it, but I was one hiker at the tail end of a fledgling remainder of SOBO’s. I can’t imagine a whole class of thru hikers going through what is already dismantled chaos. So essentially, the expectation would be to road walk around the first twenty plus miles of the trail up to Elk Garden. Who wants to begin a thru hike like that? It makes sense to me to start a traditional flip-flop out of Harpers Ferry, WV like most hikers do, head north to Katahdin, then flip back down to Harper’s Ferry and go south to Springer. This frees up time and space for trail crews to work. A traditional mass NOBO start at Springer Mountain certainly won’t allow trail crews the time and space they need to revive the trail back to its former glory. BUT, going SOBO might just be the answer. Think about it: you generally start 3-4 months after a NOBO, so you’ve already bought yourself that much time. Then it takes 2-4 months to reach affected areas, depending on your pace. So just by virtue of going south, you can give yourself a 5-8 month buffer guaranteeing a clearer trail and smoother hike. Plus, we all know by now that SOBO is the right direction anyway!

The End Grain

If thousands of trees fall in the forest and nobody is around to hear them, do they make a sound? Probably. But I’ll tell you for sure what they do make—communities of people who rally around a disaster and refuse to let it dampen the spirit of a trail that brings so much goodness and vitality to hikers and communities surrounding it. The Appalachian Trail is a special place, and any who journey across it, no matter the distance, participate in its spirit and carry with them the joys, sorrows, happiness, and awe that thousands of hikers have packed with them over many decades. To participate in that sacred march is to create a system of generative renewal that somehow always speaks to those who continue to come down trail. Every hiker who walks this path between Maine and Georgia leaves behind them a sliver of their spirit that preserves this hallowed trail, by keeping worn a path that needs keeping worn and participating in the ever unfolding story of the trail. I owe a debt of gratitude to the trail crews and volunteers who cleared so much of the trail that allowed me passage through and kept me writing my own story. Even though there were still many obstacles to overcome, I couldn’t have succeeded in getting through these sections without their work. When I passed through what I knew to be the last of the blowdowns, I felt a heavy burden lift from me that I had unknowingly been carrying for 131 miles. Continually not knowing what to expect and having to navigate very difficult and strenuous sections of damaged trail took a mental toll on me through very physical efforts. It was a relief to get through such difficult conditions. One of my favorite images to see in the midst of fields of fallen trees was the “AT” symbol carved by sawyers into the grainy end of a chainsawed blowdown. It’s the ultimate act of rebellion and reclamation and a symbol of resilience in the midst of hardship. Every time I saw one of these I felt a little jolt of encouragement and a reminder of why I was still out here—to face and overcome my own inner blowdowns along this rugged trail of life and carve in them my own version of an “AT”. The experience of overcoming what seemed at first to be insurmountable obstacles and then emerging hopeful and hiking on the other side is a lesson I’ll take with me down every trail I wander from here out, beginning to terminus.

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Comments 3

  • Warren Edward Doyle : Jan 17th

    Bravo!
    Great reporting on an unusual hiking season.
    I’m glad you didn’t obey the ATC’s corporate liability-infused statements.
    They have been ‘Debbie Downers’ for thru-hikers since March 2020 and I don’t think they will ever change.
    I second your kudos for all the volunteer trail maintainers working so hard, despite dealing with unreasonable policies courtesy of the USFS, NPS, NRA and ATC.
    You are to be commended for your individual resistance to keep on going despite all the institutional blowdowns.
    I’m glad you found a haven (i.e. Woods Hole Hostel) from these type of bureaucratic barriers to your personal pilgrimage.
    Onward!

    Reply
  • Jules in NY : Jan 17th

    This is a fantastic article. Congratulations on your perseverance in completing your hike. And even more so, you’re showing other hikers what is possible in adversity. Very well done!

    Reply
  • Jane McCarter : Jan 28th

    Beautifully written coherent and detailed piece truly conveying the current AT hiking experience post Hurricane Helene destruction. Appreciated the perseverance and problem solving you shared in navigating the washout, blowdown, and missing trail parts. Please keep writing as your writing is so very worth reading. Thank You.

    Reply

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