Then Again: The Long, Fast Trail

This is the first in a two-part series about the first people to hike Vermont’s Long Trail from end to end.

During the summer of 1927, two groups of hikers prepared for arduous treks through the wilderness. They planned meticulously, leaving behind anything that wasn’t worth the weight and shipping ahead food they would need farther along the route. The lure was the Long Trail,

which had recently been extended so that it now ran from the Massachusetts state line to just shy of the Canadian border. One group was composed of a military veteran and a speed-walking champion; the other featured an 18-year-old woman who had just graduated high school, and two women teachers in their mid-20s. The hikes would generate newspaper headlines, as well as controversy within the hiking community.

The Long Trail, America’s oldest long-distance hiking trail, was the brainchild of James P. Taylor. As a teacher and administrator at Vermont Academy in Saxtons River, Taylor had loved taking students on hikes, but found few trails that reached the state’s mountain tops. By his count, there were only eight such trails, though historians put the number at closer to 40. So Taylor spearheaded the founding of the Green Mountain Club in 1910. The club’s goal was to create “a long trail” through the heart of the state that would make “the Vermont mountains play a larger part in the life of the people,” he explained.

Taylor himself would also play a larger role in the state’s economic development, soon becoming secretary of the Greater Vermont Association, which eventually became the Vermont Chamber of Commerce. He would remain in that role for the rest of his life, nearly four decades. A gifted promoter, Taylor saw positive press coverage of the Long Trail as a cornerstone to luring tourists to Vermont.

By the summer of 1926, the Green Mountain Club had arranged for the route to be extended all the way north to Jay Peak. (A crew would extend the trail to the Canadian border in 1930.)

The military veteran preparing to hike the trail was 37-year-old Irving Appleby. Although he was American, Appleby had eagerly volunteered to serve in the Canadian army, even claiming that his birthplace was New Brunswick when in reality he’d been born in Syracuse, New York. Both of his parents were Canadian, which could explain his decision to join Canada’s army. During the First World War, Appleby had fought in France, been wounded six times—by bullet, shrapnel and gas—and received a medal for bravery. He was also said to be the fastest long- distance runner in the Canadian army. Now a civilian, he found work as a salesman for the Hood Milk Company in Boston, but Appleby thirsted for fresh adventure. He set his sights on the Long Trail.

Appleby had made headlines the previous summer when he became the first person to hike the then roughly 255-mile-long trail from end to end. Traveling from north to south, he took two weeks to complete the hike. Appleby declared his true time to be 12 days and five hours, because he faced hours of delays beyond his control. Those interruptions included time he spent helping his traveling companion, a Harvard professor who fell ill, to hike out from the trail, as well as an evening he spent attending a dinner in his honor hosted by the Green Mountain Club in Bennington, as he neared his journey’s end.

Appleby’s dedication for putting in the hard miles was impressive. As he explained to reporters, he hiked 16 hours a day and slept six. The other two hours he spent setting up and taking down his camp, and eating. To fuel himself, Appleby ate four times a day—at 4 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 4 p.m., and shortly before he went to sleep at 10 p.m.

“Only the most hardy of New England mountain climbers attempt the journey over ‘The Long Trail’ that stretches over the peaks of the Green Mountains,” the Associated Press stated in an article on July 30, 1926, so Appleby was “confident that he had set a record that would stand for a long time.”

But Appleby changed his mind. He knew someone who could better that time: himself. He announced to the press that he would return during the summer of 1927 and complete the trek in 10 days, this time traveling from south to north.

Replacing the Harvard professor as Appleby’s companion was F.C. Jameson, said to be a champion heel and toe walker, as racewalking was then known. Some newspapers reported the man’s first name as Robert, while still others referred to him as George Jamieson. In the end, it wouldn’t really matter. Readers wouldn’t have long to get to know him.

Accompanied by several students from Williams College, the pair left at first light on Saturday, July 2 from Williamstown, Massachusetts. The college students stopped after about 15 miles and left Appleby and Jameson to complete the remaining 240 miles.

On the night of July 4, some fishermen tenting at an abandoned lumber site just north of Stratton Mountain witnessed two exhausted hikers limp into camp. The hikers were “in pitiable condition,” according to one news report. “Jamieson was almost unable to walk because his feet were cracked and blistered, and Appleby was suffering.”

Deciding that Jameson needed to see a doctor, the pair hiked out to Manchester Depot, with Appleby carrying both 35-pound packs. In addition to blistered feet, the doctor suspected Jameson might also have diphtheria, symptoms of which include weakness, swollen lymph nodes and fever. He “forbade him to continue,” newspapers reported.

Having also lost his hiking companion the previous summer, Appleby was used to hiking alone. Although he himself had suffered fever and some intestinal trouble, Appleby soldiered on. Soon, newspapers were reporting that Appleby had covered 118 miles of trail in 50 hours. (For some reason, many news articles stated that the Long Trail was 278 miles long, adding nearly 25 miles to the Green Mountain Club’s own calculation.)

News about Appleby became sparse for several days, until the Associated Press reported on July 13 that Appleby had telephoned James P. Taylor of the state Chamber from a forester’s lodge north of Belvidere Mountain. Appleby expected to reach the end of his route in North Troy by 1 p.m. the following day.

Heavy rains and thunderstorms delayed him, but Appleby reached North Troy at 8 p.m. on July 14, where he was greeted by Chamber officials and given a celebratory dinner. Subtracting the time he spent in Manchester while Jameson was being treated, newspapers reported Appleby’s total hiking time as 10 days and 10 hours. He said he hoped to return again the next year and hike the trail in nine days. Appleby also said he would be returning to Boston with three fewer teeth, lost in a fall near Sterling Mountain.

Appleby was the hero of the hour. Thanks in part to the publicity efforts of Taylor and the Chamber, articles and photographs appeared in newspapers around the country. He looked to parlay his minor celebrity into endorsement deals and even spoke about possibly starring in a movie that would document his next Long Trail hike.

For all the overwhelmingly positive press coverage, Appleby was surely stung to read the Bennington Banner’s stern editorial criticizing him for his haste on the trail and his self-promotion off it.

While conceding that Appleby “is a man of tremendous vitality,” the paper wrote, “his description of the achievement did not put him in good favor with the officials of the Green Mountain Club.”

In recounting his trek, Appleby had emphasized the hardships he faced. “His story was one qualified to keep people away from the Long Trail,” the Banner declared. “He pictured the greatest part of it as a dense wilderness and almost impassable, miles from civilization and beset with dangers with which only the experienced woodsman could cope….In short, the Long Trail was painted as a tortuous and unmarked trail through the wilds with Death in many forms stalking those who dared to challenge it.”

The Banner said the Long Trail could more accurately be described as a well-marked, well-maintained path that passes “swift mountain trout brooks” and “several of Vermont’s beautiful lakelets,” while crossing “wooded ridges with frequent outlooks.” Hikers are never far from “camps, hotels, lodges and farm houses,” so they are never “in danger of losing touch with civilization.”

The newspaper also took issue with the speed of Appleby’s trek. “Vermont’s Long Trail was never intended as a marathon course for such vigorous hikers as Mr. Appleby,” the Banner declared. “It is a thing of beauty and a place for contentment and is supposed to be enjoyed at leisure. If Mr. Appleby takes any pleasure in tearing over the length of the Trail in 12 days, well and good, but he misses the whole purpose of the project and nothing of any value is accomplished.”

The rebuke foreshadowed criticism Appleby would soon face.

Just days after he completed his hike, a very different group of trekkers took to the trail. Like Appleby, they intended to hike the entire route, but they planned to do it at a far more meditative pace. At Taylor’s urging, the nation’s press publicized the all-woman trio’s adventures, introducing more readers to Vermont’s Long Trail and making the women minor celebrities.

This spelled bad news for Appleby. Not only would he have to share the spotlight, but by viewing the trail as something to be savored, not conquered, the women were inadvertently strengthening the arguments against his hurried style of hiking.

Read the story on VTDigger here: Then Again: The Long, Fast Trail .