Hiking With a Purpose: How One Hiker Conquered the Appalachian Trail

Chris Bennett Photography

Cake, candles and cards. When you’re Fred Jolly and it’s your birthday, they simply won’t cut it. To celebrate his 62nd, he kissed his wife goodbye and took a determined step on the southern end of the Appalachian Trail. Then another. And another.

More than 2,190 miles and six months later, he completed his adventure in Maine this past October. Not only did he hike the Appalachian Trail entirely and raise money to support national parks, but he also found out just how far he could push himself.

“This was absolutely the biggest personal, physical, emotional and psychological challenge that I’ve ever had to confront,” says Jolly, a AAA Member from Michigan. “But I finished it. To have gotten there as a rookie hiker, it was overwhelming.”

Chris Bennett Photography

Hiking inspiration

To really understand Jolly’s desire to hike the Appalachian Trail, you have to know about his other recent feats. At age 50, he pedaled his bike across the United States, beating the odds of his banking colleagues, who had a pool guessing in what state he’d abandon the ride. Starting at the Pacific Ocean, he ended the 27-day ride by dipping his front wheel in the Atlantic Ocean. And to mark his 60th birthday, he hiked rim to rim across the Grand Canyon, a 24-mile, 13½-hour trek.

But it was on the 2½-year, 82,000-mile RV road trip with his wife, Laura, as they visited all 60 national parks, that Jolly first thought of taking on the Appalachian Trail. While camping in a Pennsylvania park, Jolly learned the trail meandered nearby. So he set out by himself early one morning to spend a few minutes on it.

The Michigan resident began researching the idea and didn’t let anything stand in his way—neither his lack of long-distance hiking experience nor the daunting stats he uncovered: Only about 25 percent of people who attempt to hike the Appalachian Trail end-to-end in one season succeed, and half of them are in their 20s.

Making footprints

“The most challenging part is the absolute fatigue that I felt since that first day,” Jolly said in August while in Vermont. “Somehow I manage to get up the next day and keep going. But I never once considered quitting. Never.

“The No. 1 rule on the trail is you hike your own hike,” he continued. “My strategy was always, first and foremost, just get through the day. Set an objective and reach that objective. I put the miles behind me and tell myself I never have to hike this part of the trail again.”

Amid the 15-mile-per-day hikes were “zero days,” when Jolly rested. Most nights, he camped on the trail, where he slept in a tent, in a shelter or at a hostel. He occasionally stopped in towns along the trail for a night at a hotel or a friend’s home. But the next day, he always picked up where he left off on the trail.

When you're prepping to hike 2,190 miles, packing a razor might not make the cut.

Raising money

The journey Jolly took was for more than just himself. He sought donations on his website (athike.jollyoutthere.com) to benefit the National Park Foundation-a nod to his cross-country road trip. He raised $26,000.

"It's humbling to be in these places," Jolly says of the park system. "The national parks are our country's greatest national treasure, and they need our help."

#JustBreathe

Social media played a big part in the fundraising. He treated followers to sights and sounds from his hike, like pictures of him eating a half gallon of ice cream-a traditional celebration for reaching the Appalachian Trail's halfway point. He posted selfie videos with thoughts and stories-like finally finding a cell signal on Father's Day so he could connect with his daughter. And he shared photos of beautiful scenery, from foggy lakes to iconic McAfee Knob in Virginia.

Summiting mountains

On his 195th and final day of following a rocky, winding path through the wilderness, Jolly had much to think about.

Like meeting new friends with their own trail nicknames—and commiserating and celebrating along with them.

Like all the stumbles along the way—such as a tumble on the White Mountains in New Hampshire, which bent a hiking pole and brought a few bruises.

Like finding motivation to reach new heights—Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony helps with difficult summit climbs—and reflecting for countless hours on what’s next, both on the trail and beyond.

On that final day, Laura—his “chief logistics officer”—joined him, and they hiked together up Mount Katahdin in Maine. At the top, they celebrated, opening congratulatory notes and taking plenty of pictures.