Notable Entries from Trail Shelter Registers
The main source of news and information, as well as entertainment, can be found at the trailside shelters. A mere notebook left by a local, a hiker, or trail maintainer becomes one of the things that makes life interesting on the trail. Just about everyone reads them, in fact, hikers may even go out of their way to go to a shelter for a quick read. Along with the good logistical information it provides about water sources, places to stay, etc., they are a good way to keep in contact with friends. Some people have a tendency to stretch the truth a bit as they leave short stories or comics for the entertainment of others. If you would like to submit an entry from a shelter register that made you laugh, cry, or reflect on something you would like to share, send an email with the information to: info@atmuseum.org
"Anglehead Cartoon" from Don Nelan Shelter 1983
Trail Log Related stories: excerpts from the book "Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike" by John Gignilliat
We arrived at Amicalola Falls State Park in Georgia after dark and were greeted by a large sign at the park entrance stating: “CAMPGROUND FULL.” After some confusion, inquiries finally led us to a shelter reserved for Appalachian Trail hikers. Following hugs and handshakes, Carol’s daughter and her husband left us standing alone in the pitch-black parking lot with ninety pounds of gear. We shouldered our packs and began walking, as boot leather was now our only means of propulsion. We finally found the shelter hidden behind the Visitor's Center.
Exhausted and somewhat overwhelmed, we were soon asleep tucked into our brand-new sleeping bags. I was surprised that no other hikers spent the night with us in this shelter. The first of April is a popular starting date for thru-hikers attempting to walk from Georgia to Maine. The trail is dotted with numerous three-sided shelters available for hikers to stop for the night. Each shelter contains a spiral notebook or log in which hikers can leave comments. After packing up to begin our eight-mile climb to the Appalachian Trail terminus (beginning for us) atop Springer Mountain, I found the shelter log and wrote, “Where is everyone? Are we the only April Fools?”
===
Thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail turned out to be much more of a social event than we had ever imagined. We were part of a close-knit extended family stretching up and down the narrow two-thousand-mile strip of pathway. Few people hiked at the same speed or pace, so there was a constant shuffling and reshuffling, mixing and unmixing of hikers along the way. Even if we had not been with someone up ahead for over a month, we still knew of their doings. Likewise, those following behind could find out how we were proceeding. The glue that held this ribbon-like extended family together was the shelter logs . . . nothing more than a high school spiral notebook with an attached pen or pencil. Not only were there logs in shelters, they were often found in trailside restaurants, banks, campgrounds, hostels, bed & breakfasts, motels, and so on. We even found one in a laundromat. Joys and tears, complaints and concerns, trail humor and trail gossip, trials and tribulations were passed up and down the trail via log entries like a traveling soap opera. They contained the daily emotions and accounts of hikers, allowing those behind to read and follow the thoughts of those ahead and they were a constant source of information and entertainment. We always enjoyed the cartoon entries of Toon Man (A B-52 bomber dropping New Jersey rocks onto Pennsylvania trail, or a trail town characterized as a giant magnet holding hikers back from returning to the trail).
===
We had taken a day off the trail to visit with friends in Mt. Gretna, PA. After finishing our scrumptious desserts at Jiggers Ice Cream Parlor, I mentioned to John that there was a near fanatical search for Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream by thru-hikers. I was surprised when he commented that he owned stock in Ben & Jerry's. Before we returned to the trail, he showed me their annual stockholder's report. It looked like your standard stock report except for two things. The entire report was presented in a third-grade printed font, and the last page was a tear-out section of postage stamp size Ben & Jerry stickers with colorful cartoons highlighting all their different flavors. I asked John if I could have the stickers, and when he agreed, I put them in a Ziplock bag for use in the trail logs to go with our entries.
===
After our delightful lunch, we headed down to the small Bear Mountain Post Office for our mail. Earlier I had mailed to Ben & Jerry's corporate office a postcard with a map of the AT on it. I had checked off the many points where we had stopped for their ice cream, and told them I had run out of my supply of their stickers that I used in the hiker logs. We had become trail famous for our Ben and Jerry stickers affixed next to our log entries. One hiker even told me that he had tried to lick the stamp for Cherries Garcia, it looked so good. I was pleased to receive a new batch of stickers.
===
While we were cooking our dinner, Frenchy and Straight Talk came up the trail. Like so many other hikers we met for the first time, they both exclaimed, “So you're Port and Starb'ard! We've been trying to catch up with you for so long.” Hikers behind us would read our entries as they followed in our tracks, getting closer and closer to our turtle-like pace.
Both Starb’ard and I had very neat writing, and we printed all our entries. We never made them too long but kept them short and often light and humorous (i.e., saw a momma moose and her baby . . . no bull). Also, I had developed a special logo for our entries that turned the words “Port and Starb’ard” into a sloop and a schooner sailing on a sea of waves from Georgia to Maine (Carol was Starb’ard, claiming she was always right). All this, combined with our eye-catching Ben and Jerry's stickers, made our log entries very noticeable and often the first ones read.
Frenchy, a short stocky man with flaming red hair, an infectious grin, and an outrageous French accent; was actually from Central France. He explained to us how he had attempted a thru-hike last year, but his visa had expired. He was back to try again. Straight Talk asked me a question he seemed to have been pondering for some time. He inquired why, when I drew my logo in the registers, I had Maine on the left side and Georgia on the right side? He was reading left to right and felt Georgia should be on the left and Maine should be on the right. I explained that I had the bows of my two boats were the first letters of Port and Starb'ard. This made them sailing towards the left side of the page and therefore I had to put Maine to the left. I hoped this explanation satisfied him, although he still looked confused. We said good-bye as they continued on their way. They were both fast hikers, so I assumed we would not see them again.
"Anglehead Cartoon" from Don Nelan Shelter 1983
Trail Log Related stories: excerpts from the book "Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike" by John Gignilliat
We arrived at Amicalola Falls State Park in Georgia after dark and were greeted by a large sign at the park entrance stating: “CAMPGROUND FULL.” After some confusion, inquiries finally led us to a shelter reserved for Appalachian Trail hikers. Following hugs and handshakes, Carol’s daughter and her husband left us standing alone in the pitch-black parking lot with ninety pounds of gear. We shouldered our packs and began walking, as boot leather was now our only means of propulsion. We finally found the shelter hidden behind the Visitor's Center.
Exhausted and somewhat overwhelmed, we were soon asleep tucked into our brand-new sleeping bags. I was surprised that no other hikers spent the night with us in this shelter. The first of April is a popular starting date for thru-hikers attempting to walk from Georgia to Maine. The trail is dotted with numerous three-sided shelters available for hikers to stop for the night. Each shelter contains a spiral notebook or log in which hikers can leave comments. After packing up to begin our eight-mile climb to the Appalachian Trail terminus (beginning for us) atop Springer Mountain, I found the shelter log and wrote, “Where is everyone? Are we the only April Fools?”
===
Thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail turned out to be much more of a social event than we had ever imagined. We were part of a close-knit extended family stretching up and down the narrow two-thousand-mile strip of pathway. Few people hiked at the same speed or pace, so there was a constant shuffling and reshuffling, mixing and unmixing of hikers along the way. Even if we had not been with someone up ahead for over a month, we still knew of their doings. Likewise, those following behind could find out how we were proceeding. The glue that held this ribbon-like extended family together was the shelter logs . . . nothing more than a high school spiral notebook with an attached pen or pencil. Not only were there logs in shelters, they were often found in trailside restaurants, banks, campgrounds, hostels, bed & breakfasts, motels, and so on. We even found one in a laundromat. Joys and tears, complaints and concerns, trail humor and trail gossip, trials and tribulations were passed up and down the trail via log entries like a traveling soap opera. They contained the daily emotions and accounts of hikers, allowing those behind to read and follow the thoughts of those ahead and they were a constant source of information and entertainment. We always enjoyed the cartoon entries of Toon Man (A B-52 bomber dropping New Jersey rocks onto Pennsylvania trail, or a trail town characterized as a giant magnet holding hikers back from returning to the trail).
===
We had taken a day off the trail to visit with friends in Mt. Gretna, PA. After finishing our scrumptious desserts at Jiggers Ice Cream Parlor, I mentioned to John that there was a near fanatical search for Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream by thru-hikers. I was surprised when he commented that he owned stock in Ben & Jerry's. Before we returned to the trail, he showed me their annual stockholder's report. It looked like your standard stock report except for two things. The entire report was presented in a third-grade printed font, and the last page was a tear-out section of postage stamp size Ben & Jerry stickers with colorful cartoons highlighting all their different flavors. I asked John if I could have the stickers, and when he agreed, I put them in a Ziplock bag for use in the trail logs to go with our entries.
===
After our delightful lunch, we headed down to the small Bear Mountain Post Office for our mail. Earlier I had mailed to Ben & Jerry's corporate office a postcard with a map of the AT on it. I had checked off the many points where we had stopped for their ice cream, and told them I had run out of my supply of their stickers that I used in the hiker logs. We had become trail famous for our Ben and Jerry stickers affixed next to our log entries. One hiker even told me that he had tried to lick the stamp for Cherries Garcia, it looked so good. I was pleased to receive a new batch of stickers.
===
While we were cooking our dinner, Frenchy and Straight Talk came up the trail. Like so many other hikers we met for the first time, they both exclaimed, “So you're Port and Starb'ard! We've been trying to catch up with you for so long.” Hikers behind us would read our entries as they followed in our tracks, getting closer and closer to our turtle-like pace.
Both Starb’ard and I had very neat writing, and we printed all our entries. We never made them too long but kept them short and often light and humorous (i.e., saw a momma moose and her baby . . . no bull). Also, I had developed a special logo for our entries that turned the words “Port and Starb’ard” into a sloop and a schooner sailing on a sea of waves from Georgia to Maine (Carol was Starb’ard, claiming she was always right). All this, combined with our eye-catching Ben and Jerry's stickers, made our log entries very noticeable and often the first ones read.
Frenchy, a short stocky man with flaming red hair, an infectious grin, and an outrageous French accent; was actually from Central France. He explained to us how he had attempted a thru-hike last year, but his visa had expired. He was back to try again. Straight Talk asked me a question he seemed to have been pondering for some time. He inquired why, when I drew my logo in the registers, I had Maine on the left side and Georgia on the right side? He was reading left to right and felt Georgia should be on the left and Maine should be on the right. I explained that I had the bows of my two boats were the first letters of Port and Starb'ard. This made them sailing towards the left side of the page and therefore I had to put Maine to the left. I hoped this explanation satisfied him, although he still looked confused. We said good-bye as they continued on their way. They were both fast hikers, so I assumed we would not see them again.