The end of the line for Berg

Editor's note: Retired attorney and long time North Forker Steve Berg is hiking the Appalachian Trail. The world's longest footpath, Berg plans on hiking its length from Springer Mountain, Ga., to Katahdin, Maine, over the next few months. He is e-mailing us reports as he goes along. We give you his last report, with some sadness …

Hello to each of you once again. This report is sent to you with much regret because I have injured my right knee, left the Appalachian Trail and am typing this from the Atlanta home of Jerry and Libby Bukiewicz. You will recall it was Jerry and his son who dropped me off near Springer Mountain, Georgia on March 12 from which I started hiking the trail. In other words, I'm back at base camp. Here's the story:

Before taking a day off in Asheville, I noticed my right knee was becoming tight and painful not only on the downstroke (hiking downhill), but more alarmingly on fairly level terrain and, worse, on the upstroke where the knee is not normally extended as much as it is on level terrain or downhill. Having had three arthroscopic repairs of the meniscus cartilage of the right knee, the third in April, 2006,

I was sensitive to the possibility my knee might find the AT, with its many elevation gains and losses in Georgia, North Carolina and Tennessee, a little rough. I'm generally aware of several tests to determine whether the meniscus has been damaged as distinguished from a soft tissue injury to a ligament. Before the rest in Asheville, I was getting positive results in a couple of these tests. Still I thought rest can't hurt, could help.

I hiked another 70 miles after Asheville to Hot Springs, and took another day off there. These rest days helped in general, but the continued movement north into Tennessee - rugged high mountains - aggravated the knee problem.

After much thought - and there's no shortage of time to think about this - I decided I was damaging the knee, the symptoms were the same as I had experienced prior to the preceding three scopes (plus a scope on the meniscus of the left knee for a grand total of four prior scopes on my knee cartilages), rest was not likely to improve things, anti-inflammatory drugs would be ineffectual because the problem didn't involve soft tissue and there was no significant swelling, and that I should leave the Trail.

Another factor in this decision was my strong desire to avoid the bone-on-bone situation that can develop as the meniscus shrinks due to surgical repair and inexorably creeping old age. I will now stop boring you with my physical maladies, and give you the bottom line: My desire to continue to hike and climb in Glacier Park, which I do each summer with great joy, far exceeds my desire to complete the 2,175 mile trail. I've put one month and 330 miles into a demanding portion of the trail, have had some terrific experiences, definitely have a taste of the trail and a few adjacent trail towns, received true hospitality from many locals in this three- state area, and worked myself into good physical condition in the process forgetting, briefly, my knee.

All things considered, I concluded it was best to call it quits, focus on rehab, and look forward to Glacier Park climbs in which, incidentally, the terrain is entirely different from the southern trail. In Glacier, the climber hikes/climbs basically one big up to the summit, then down. In the southern trail, the hiker hikes up 300 feet, then down 500 feet, then maybe around a short distance, then up 400 feet, then down 700 feet to a gap. And in the southern trail, what goes down always goes up.

After reaching this decision, I hitchhiked from Tennessee through North Carolina into Georgia to within 50 miles of Atlanta. I then called Jerry to ask him to pick me up. While waiting for him, I went to a grassy area near a shopping mall parking lot, and began rummaging through my pack for some beef jerky I knew was hiding somewhere in its recesses. A pick-up truck pulled up next to me driven by a boy about 17. He told me to come over to his partially open driver's door window.

As I walked toward him I could see he was looking down toward his lap where I eventually saw him pull out a $10 bill from his wallet. He held the bill in his hand out the window and said I should take it. Only then did I realize I looked like a bum in my hiking boots, hiking shorts worn over black long underwear (it was sunny, but cold), open rain jacket over thermal jacket over Rocky Mountain Outfitter fleece over Capilene T-shirt, and a watch cap knitted by my mother 10 years ago. Naturally I took the money and thanked him … Just kidding.

He was stunned to have the offer politely rejected, and we had a nice conversation. Fortunately he couldn't smell me.

So this is my final report from the trail, and I'm retiring my nom de guerre, Montana Steve, from general communication with you, my family and friends. You may ask: Any chance of returning to the trail and becoming a section hiker rather than a thru-hiker? The answer is no. Montana is too far away from the trail to do this; it's a major logistical movement just to get here. More to the point, I've hiked the southern trail, and hiked the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and don't need to hike the area in between or in Maine. I'll add parenthetically that of all the hikers I met on the trail, thru and sectional, three were from west of the Mississippi. You may ask: Do you think you would have hiked the full trail if your knee had remained healthy? The answer is no. As mentioned in earlier reports, easily 90 percent of the miles I hiked were hiked alone, and I really never adjusted to this. I have hiked alone in Glacier two or three times, but never liked it, it's foolish because of the bear situation and haven't done it for over 30 years.

Had I continued north on the trail, I don't believe this would have changed. I saw few solo thru-hikers on the trail.

Almost all thru-hikers are part of a group of two or more hikers. The composition of their group may change along the trail, but they are still part of a group most of the time. I should add the fact that age is relevant here. Well over 90 percent of the thru-hikers I saw were approximately 32 years old or younger. I met one thru-hiker over 50, and he was 55. The younger the thru-hiker, the more likely he/she was part of a group. An older hiker may be better prepared to hike alone than a younger hiker, assuming good health, but not without more frequent off-trail visits, and aid from family, friends and hired drivers in "slack packing” i.e. hiking with an exceptionally light pack (or no pack), relying on others for assistance.

Thanks to all of you for your words of encouragement and support. Special thanks to Christina Litchfield who has been in charge of the supply depot and immediately responsive when I needed something which was often. Many of you have responded to these reports with e-mails which I've really enjoyed reading. I'm sad to terminate these reports prematurely, and somewhat abruptly, because they're fun to write, and this has been a cyberspace first for me. However, if I'm to continue hiking and climbing at the pace I'm accustomed to, I'm confident I must leave the trail. Best regards.

Montana Steve (Berg)