
Dedicated to fostering dynamic community engagement and advocating for developing strong relationships within the Appalachian Trail Community. Creating networking opportunities to build real and sustainable goals that empower our diverse Appalachian Trail community to thrive!

Through The People Are The Trail, a registered Nonprofit entity, I provide free and low-cost services that help hikers navigate the physical and logistical challenges of the journey. This support is funded by donations and support from individuals who value the tradition of helping the next hiker down the path through Trail Magic. Supporters make it possible to offer rides, coordinate logistics, provide supplies and gear, encouragement and of course some unsolicited advice to hikers on Appalachian Trail.
Miss Janet's Gear Closet, Trail Magic and Support Services


A Love Letter to the Appalachian Trail (and the People Who Walk It)
I love the Appalachian Trail.
I love these majestic rugged and beautiful mountains I’ve called home my entire life.
And I love the people who come—year after year—to walk the deepest hollows and the highest ridgelines, from Georgia to Maine.My love story with the Trail began before I ever knew it was a love story and certainly had no reason to think it would become one of the most important parts of my life.
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When I was a child in East Tennessee, we lived near an AT trailhead, close enough that hikers sometimes wandered into our front yard. My mother was a Trail Angel before there was a name for it—making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, filling water bottles, treating blistered feet and listening . Always listening. I grew up hearing stories of injuries and storms, wildlife encounters and stories about the other people out there on the same path . Tales of hope and heartbreak, grit and wonder. Even then, the Trail was teaching me that it was never just about the miles.
As the years went by and my involvement deepened, it became clear:
for me, it has always been about the people.
The Appalachian Trail community isn’t just hikers. It’s Trail Angels and shuttle drivers, hostel owners and hotel managers, grocery store clerks, ministries, ridge runners, trail maint ers, volunteers, and community leaders. It’s a moving village, stitched together by kindness, encouragement, sweat, and shared purpose and heartfelt love for this trail and the experiences it brings.
People come to the Trail for as many reasons as there are hikers. Some seek the physical challenge. Some crave immersion in nature. Some come looking for healing—whether they know it yet or not. Being allowed even a small part in these personal journeys became important to me very early on.
Out there, a rawness emerges. Vulnerability surfaces. The miles plow things up in a hikers heart and mind.
Even the crustiest old grandpa, the most stubborn young person, the Soldier, the Mom.... The trail experience has a way of bringing things to the forefront for all hikers to examine.
Offering support during the ups and downs—the blisters and breakthroughs—is an unbelievable blessing. A soda. A ride to town. A warm, dry bed. A shoulder to cry on. A frank observation or some unsolicited advice. Those moments made me realize I’m an emotion junkie at heart. I feel most alive when I’m part of something larger than myself.
Now, after more than forty years connected to the Trail in one way or another, the cast of characters changes every season—but human nature does not. The needs remain the same. So do the struggles.
As the Trail’s popularity has grown, so have the challenges that come with human frailty. There will always be a few who take advantage of kindness. Some who exaggerate accomplishments. Some who carry unresolved pain and mistakes right into the woods. Whether it’s a YouTuber chasing likes, a petty thief pocketing spoons and bandanas, or someone who simply refuses to respect others—those realities exist.
And yet…
sometimes those very people are the ones who need the Trail most.
I have seen the Appalachian Trail transform lives. A thirty-pound pack and a few days of sweat and stink make it hard to tell who’s a CEO and who’s just finished five years in prison. On the Trail, none of that matters. What matters is honesty, respect, and dignity, attiude and compassion—because everyone is doing the same work, one step at a time, one mountain at a time.
Despite the negatives that are always possible when human beings are involved, it amazes me how strong, supportive, and encouraging this community has remained across the decades. So many people find the Trail and never really leave it. They stay involved because of the relationships and because they care. The shared responsibility of protecting the trail as an asset and the long distance hiking experience as a privilege is important to everyone I know in the AT community!. Because this community ireally is unlike any other!To those who’ve been here from the very beginning—thank you.
Thank you for accepting me, respecting me, and validating my small part in a hike of five million steps. Being a part of this community is a blessing and a responsibility I take seriously!Of course there will always be concerns—about protecting the Trail, caring for one another, and how long-distance hikers and hiking in general is perceived by the outside world. We are imperfect creatures. There is always room for growth, improvement, stewardship, and accountability.
But I am incredibly proud of those who make this journey better for everyone. I have deep respect for the people who build, maintain, and protect this iconic footpath through organizations, clubs, and quiet, tireless service and decades of volunteerism.
It truly takes a village.
And I love seeing new faces arrive—drawn by the Trail, by the challenge, and by the idea that a long walk can be part of a meaningful life.
I love the Appalachian Trail and the AT Community—wholeheartedly and realistically.
I love it for its beauty and its brutality.
Its solitude and its community.
Its ups and downs.
Just like life.
Just like love.