
McAfee Knob on the Appalachian Trail (Photo: Brett Maurer / Moment Open via Getty)
To say that long-distance hiking has blown up since Backpacker started publishing would be the mother of all understatements. In 1973, the year our first issue went out, just 8 people completed the Pacific Crest Trail. Today, the Pacific Crest Trail Association says between six and eight thousand people consistently start the trail every year, with somewhere between six hundred and one thousand of them making it to the end. Along the way, the experience has changed, with what used to be lonely, seldom-trod paths becoming well-marked and popular verging on crowded.
One thing that hasn’t changed: Hiking 2,000 miles is an adventure that will change your life. As part of our collection of the 45 Best Backpacking Stories of All Time, we picked out 13 of those adventures that we’ve covered over the years. What follows are stories of athletes, trail angels, guides, kids and more. Some of the hikers we write about here pioneered new routes; others hit the trail hoping to discover something new inside themselves. So get comfy and set aside a few hours: Once you start reading these tales, you’ll have a hard time stopping. —Adam Roy, Editor-in-Chief
Child thru-hikers are still rare on the Appalachian Trail, but in 1981, they were unheard of. That was the year that Jeffrey and Reina Cogswell traveled the length of the trail with their six-year-old son, Michael. It was a different journey then—with fewer people and amenities—but 44 years later, their story still resonates.
In 1990, when Bill Irwin hit the Appalachian Trail with his guide dog, Orient, no blind person had ever thru-hiked the AT. By the time he finished, he had 100 people hiking the last few miles with him and Hollywood agents trying to secure the rights to his story. In this feature, Irwin explains what it took, from a trail guide recorded on cassettes to a dog capable of learning to thru-hike beside him.

In 2004, Scott Williamson completed the first-ever continuous yo-yo of the PCT, hiking from the southern terminus to the Canadian border and back again in one push. But that simple summary isn’t enough to capture one of the greatest—and most complicated—adventures anyone’s ever had on a long trail.
Over the course of more than a dozen thru-hikes, Warren Doyle has become one of the Appalachian Trail’s greatest—and arguably most controversial—gurus, guiding his “circles” of hikers up the east’s best-loved long trail over and over again. But what happens when the most difficult part of your thru-hike is dealing with your guide?

No one had ever hiked the PCT as fast as Heather Anderson, who seemed to appear and disappear at hostels and campsites along its length like a phantom. Buried behind all the rumors and sightings was one woman’s quest to push herself to the edge of her abilities.
The late Donna Saufley opened her home to PCT hopefuls for almost twenty years. But as the legend of “Hiker Heaven” spread, conflict came to paradise.

George “Billy Goat” Woodard has the retirement most of us can only dream of, hiking some four months a year. What does the future have in store for one of the long trail world’s senior statesmen?
When college student Andy Lyon discovered he had terminal cancer, he could have given in to despair. Instead, he packed a bag and decided to hike the PCT in search of adventure and a new kind of healing.

The AT’s occasionally rowdy social culture has been the subject of many a backpacker’s complaints. But it suits the party-hungry hikers of Riff Raff just fine.
A thru-hike of the AT is an education for anyone. But for 5-year-old hiker (and future Triple-Crowner) Christian “Buddy Backpacker” Thomas, it was school, a family vacation, and The Odyssey all rolled into one.

World War II veteran Earl Shaffer has gone down in AT history as the first person to complete a continuous thru-hike of the path. But amateur historian Jim McNeely wants us to add an asterisk to that.
Rue McKenrick set out to hike a trail unlike any before: a trek of the full perimeter of the United States. It was an ambitious idea, but a glitching body, debilitating loneliness, and a public skeptical of the idea were only some of the obstacles he’d have to deal with along the way.
Few people have done as much for outdoor recreation as Ray Jardine, the man who invented the first spring-loaded camming device and, along with his wife, Jenny, created some of the first ultralight backpacking gear. So why, after notching thousands of trail miles and what were then the world’s hardest ascents, is he nowhere to be found?