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Partly cloudy. A stray shower or thunderstorm is possible. High 93F. Winds SW at 5 to 10 mph..

Partly cloudy skies. Warm and humid. Low 74F. Winds light and variable.

Accomplished hiker Beacon (left) takes a break with Crazy Frogg at the Wise Shelter near Grayson Highlands in Virginia. The shelter, where wild ponies roam free, sits at the 500-mile mark on the Appalachian Trail. (Ed Riggs photograph)

Accomplished hiker Beacon (left) takes a break with Crazy Frogg at the Wise Shelter near Grayson Highlands in Virginia. The shelter, where wild ponies roam free, sits at the 500-mile mark on the Appalachian Trail. (Ed Riggs photograph)

An interesting phenomenon in the world of long-distance hiking is that of trail names. While the idea likely stemmed from a bunch of Appalachian Trail hikers, it is now common among hikers of other long-distance trails to give each other nicknames as their main moniker.

The first known trail name was given to the first known thru-hiker of the A.T. That was Earl Shaffer in 1948, and his trail name was ‘Crazy One’. As in, one would have to be crazy to think that they could hike from Georgia to Maine.

Or, instead of knowing someone as Peter Kilgore from Duluth, they may become ‘Minnesota Pete’ on the trail. The overweight fellow who just keeps plugging away at a very deliberate pace may be known as ‘Slow and Steady’. His counterpart, the young woman who fairly flies down the trail, may earn the name of ‘Rabbit’.

Anything goes, as a trail name is most often bestowed upon the hiker by others. It is rare to pick your own name. I spent my career teach health and physical education, so my trail name naturally became ‘Phys Ed’.

One of the most interesting characters I ever met while hiking was also one of my favorites. The young man who had dropped out of college (temporarily?) to hike the Appalachian Trail was unique, smart, fun-loving, and quick to smile. Every day I ever saw him, he was wearing either a neon-yellow or neon-orange hiking shirt, either of which could be seen from a long way away in the woods. Even before I had met him, he was dubbed as Beacon.

I first met Beacon in Tennessee, about 15 miles south of the Virginia line. I was staying at the Double Springs Shelter with two friends, having taken the previous two days to make it there from Kincora Hostel, near Hampton, TN, a distance of nearly 32 miles. The next day would take me 19 miles into Damascus, the first town in Virginia.

Many hikers do their first “marathon”, over 26 miles, into Damascus. I had only done 20 miles once up to that point, so I never even entertained the idea of a marathon.

While I was setting up camp at Double Springs, this tall, dread-locked, handsome dude walked up to us at the shelter. He had met my two friends previously, and said he had come 31-plus miles that day from Kincora. I was very impressed.

As we were talking, he never took off his pack. The reason was, he wasn’t done hiking yet. He said that he was going to try to make it to Damascus, another 19-plus miles, before it got “too late”. I just thought he was crazy, and said goodbye as I continued to set up camp.

The next day, all the way to Damascus, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Beacon’s day had been like on his way into Virginia. If he had in fact made it to Damascus, that would have meant he had walked nearly 51 miles in one day! That would have taken him nearly 20 hours, and my opinion of him being a crazy man was solidified. Perhaps he should have shared Earl Shaffer’s trail name.

As I walked into Damascus and down the main street of the uniquely A.T. town, I spotted Beacon, sitting on a park bench. He was slumped over, and did not have quite the same gleam in his eye that he had the previous afternoon. I stopped to talk and wanted to hear more about his incredible day.

As it turned out, Beacon did not make it to Damascus the previous day. He said that when he got to the Tennessee-Virginia border, his body quit on him. He threw down his sleeping bag right next to the trail and went to sleep. When he arose, he trudged the final four miles into town, and had not left that bench since he got there.

So, Beacon, attempting the ridiculous and impossible, came up four miles short. He ‘only’ hiked 47 miles in one day, but in my eyes, he had become a legend.

This 22-year old free spirit continued to amaze me as I got to know him. Although he was set to complete a successful college stint at Texas A&M, he dropped out to hike the trail. Though he could debate with anyone, and seemed smart beyond his years, he chose to spend five months with smelly, tired, but interesting fellow hikers. And he had never hiked a day in his life.

This column has from time to time emphasized the importance of preparedness when setting out into the wild. Beacon just dove right in. He decided to hike, dropped out of school, bought some gear, and off he went, just to see what the big fuss was all about.

What he found out was, that the big fuss was all about the people. Well, and the views, the challenge, the change in lifestyle, and the fine cuisine.

The last time I saw Beacon on the trail was in the middle of Virginia at the Woods Hole Hostel near Pearisburg. I had been struggling up a 1,500 -foot climb, when he caught up to me. He pulled me along to the top, where we took a long break taking in the amazing view. Down the other side, after 19 miles, we decided to check out a hostel we knew of down a dirt road, and it was the perfect place. We shared living space with Foxtrot, Pearl, Sooty, Hoops, King, and Slip. And each trail name had a story attached.

The next morning, he was off for 17 miles, but I was going to stop at Pearisburg, where there was an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. As he left, I said goodbye, not even imagining that I would not see him again on trail, but I never did.

The next spring, Beacon and trail friend Stumbles (yes, she fell a lot), stopped in Gettysburg while riding their bicycles from the Atlantic to the Pacific. They stayed overnight with us, and it was great to see him again, with abundant trail talk and catching up. At the time, I told my son that he was going to meet one of the nicest guys in the world, and one of my favorite people.

And I said to him, just don’t be like him!

Beacon, for all his positive traits and general likeability, just seemed to be directionless. He had dropped out of school, spent his summers traveling on unique journeys, and didn’t seem like he would ever be able to settle down. I wondered how he did it.

As it turned out, he did have a plan. For the next four years or so, Beacon worked hard for three months a year on a fishing boat in Alaska. He earned over $30,000 for that work, and then spent the rest of the year experiencing the world. He hiked in Europe, visited friends and family around the country, and spread his joy of life to all he came in contact with. Who was I to say he was directionless? He has seen more of this world than most, and he is nicer, more free, and happier than most.

Last year, Beacon got his realtor’s license, and now has a full-time, ‘real’ job. And he just got engaged to be married next spring. Beacon certainly hiked his own hike while out on the A.T., and he continues to hike his own hike in life. While he earned his trail name because of his bright clothing, he has become a ‘beacon’ of happiness and joy. And I never even knew his real name until after the last time I saw him.

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