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The grand old “father” of the Appalachian Trail, Benton MacKaye, challenged the nimble-footed sojourners who sought the solitude of the Appalachians “to see, and to see what you see.” Doubletalk? Not on your life! After three thru-hikes of the Appalachian Trail, I came face to face with the dismal conclusion that I really had no clue as to what the great man meant. True, I had “seen,” but I had miserably failed to rise to the second part of Mr. MacKaye’s challenge. Belatedly, I discovered that I’d done the miles and had the smiles, but the real “meat” of the trip remained in the grip of the mountains, firmly locked in a time vault to which I had no key.
But there is another side of the coin. Consider the thru-hiker’s “curse”: Grind out the harsh, unforgiving miles day by day, state by state, with Mount Katahdin’s mid-October closing deadline always hovering in the near-consciousness like a voracious beast. What else can one expect? Most often the hiker pauses, casually remarks, “Hmmm…I wonder what that’s all about?” and continues on. Occasionally, a sparse entry is made in a dirt-smeared journal: Check this out when I get home.
It seldom—if ever—happens. The “real world” quickly grips the jubilant thru-hiker (Dang! I did it! I’m a 2000-miler!) in a mental vise that soon squeezes all motivation to pursue those little innocent journal entries into gooey mush. Over time, good intentions fade and all that’s left are the “miles and smiles”—and a guilt-gilded vacuum that bespeaks of something missing.
"Walkin´ with the Ghost Whisperers" lets the reader step across the threshold of history and walk with the men and women of yesteryear, whose lives impacted on the mountains through which the Trail goes. It’s all here: Native American history that crisscrossed the Trail and the myths that birthed legends which flame the imagination…the pioneers who tested the waters and paved the way for future generations of hikers …horrific Civil War battles that were fought where hikers now trod, their boots scuffing ground consecrated by blood and indomitable will…ghosts that refuse to stay buried…Mary the Elephant whose demise sullied a town…the good, the bad, and the ugly. And much more!
Whether the reader hungers for a platter of historical entertainment or seeks to nourish the “miles and smiles” from a previous hike, "Walkin´ with the Ghost Whisperers" is the book. Both trails lead to the same destination: To see, and to see what you see!
Author’s Note
Benton MacKaye was a remarkable man. His “beyond the horizon” vision of a footpath stretching along the high crests of America’s Blue Ridge eventually became reality when the Appalachian Trail opened to “foot travel only” in 1937. He admonished those who wound their way over peaks and valleys heretofore accessible only to the most hardy and daring to “…see, and to see what you have seen.” Well, when I first read these words, they made about as much sense as dribbling mustard on a jelly doughnut. If you saw something, you just saw it. Period.
What an idiot I was! On a fine summer day in 1998, on my third thru-hike, I stopped at a spring in a pretty little glade to air my aching hoofers—Pennsylvania rocks are murder, you know. While I sat there guzzling cold sweet water, my eyes strayed to a nearby aged stone marker. Its sparse wording let me know that my gratification came from Pilger Ruh Spring, where Count Zinzen-something-or-other and one Conrad Weiser had also quenched their thirst in 1742. Model-T, my pesky alter ego, whose sole mission in life is to make mine miserable, piped up, Hey Diddlebrain, what’s a Pilger Ruh? Damned if I knew, but I wasn’t about to let him—or “it” (I’ve never gotten a handle on our weird relationship)—have the satisfaction of calling me an ignoramus. Well Mr. Stupid, if you knew anything at all, you’d know it’s a German term meaning “place to cool your beer.”
And that’s when the realization suddenly penetrated my Kentucky tow-headed cranium. Not only did I not know what a Pilger Ruh was; I didn’t know diddly about most of what I’d seen—and yet had not seen, as strange as it sounds—between Georgia and Maine.
Hence, this book. An apology of sorts to Benton MacKaye, if you will. It’s also an effort to bring closure to my hikes along the Trail, where I’ve stumbled in awkward ignorance. My Appalachian experiences could have been so much more! Hopefully, this book will help others to be better prepared, not only to enjoy the soul-gripping experience that comes from the power of the mountains, but also to see what they’ve seen.
Comes the disclaimer: "Walkin´ with the Ghost Whisperers" is certainly not all-inclusive. Far from it, for if I had tried to research and write about each item of interest on the Trail, I’d be well on my way to breaking the record for drawing Social Security before I finished the book. Also, I freely acknowledge that factual information is only as good as the source. By necessity, a great deal of the research that went into this book was gleaned from the World Wide Web. I have tried to cull out erroneous or speculative information; to verify facts where possible when conflicts exist; and when unable to do so, to make known differing positions in the manuscript.
A note to the reader: Please don’t look upon "Walkin´ with the Ghost Whisperers" as a history book or boring travelogue. I’ve tried to make it entertaining and refreshing, bringing to light little known facts and some of the pertinent historical significance. This has taken me down some blue-blazed trails, and I’ve rambled on at times like an old, gray-bearded goob—which I happen to be.
All that said, now a few words about Model-T. Granted, we all are afflicted with alter egos. I suspect that mine happens to be stronger than most. (Gospel truth, I don’t have a split personality.) Model-T basked in the limelight of authorship with his account of our first thru-hike in "Walkin’ on the Happy Side of Misery: A Slice of Life on the Appalachian Trail." He pulled the strings, spiced up the tale with words that I would never use (embarrassing), and gave me short shrift throughout.
Now it’s my turn to grab some of the gravy. Ghost Whisperers is my book, my words, no Model-T cluttering up the pages with inane hiker drivel—unless I choose to throw him a few crumbs. Okay, give the devil his due. Both books are tied together with literary duct tape, just like our contentious, conjoined, inseparable relationship. On occasion I’ve gritted my teeth and referred to "Walkin…," in order to clarify or bring into perspective something that I’ve written about. But then, writing, like politics, sometimes creates strange bedfellows.
But the objective remains pure. For when you take to the Trail, may you "…see, and see what you see…"
J.R. “Model-T” Tate
Woodlawn, Tennessee
Summer, 2005
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