I remember the first time I hiked the Lover’s Leap Hike in Hot Springs—which follows part of the Appalachian Trail—for whatever reason, something that stuck out to me was how close some houses bordering it were built to one of the most popular trails in the country. According to the Appalachian Trail Conservatory, approximately three million people hike the AT in some capacity every year, and 3,000 people attempt thru-hiking annually. Some of the houses in question were mere feet from the trail. Like, I could lean over and touch them if I wanted or put my hand onto the windowsill if I were creepy. Again, I’m not sure why this is where my mind went, but I thought to myself, “I wouldn’t want to live this close to such a popular hiking trail.”
I had the same train of thought the other day when I hiked Lunch Rocks at sunset. I’ve hiked Lunch Rocks a couple of times now, but thus far, only in the summer and fall when the foliage is abundant. This was my first time hiking it in a leafless forest; previously the leaves hid how closely some people’s homes were to this very popular thoroughfare (though the MTS website has declined to offer any hard stats on how many people visit annually). While I couldn’t reach out and touch the houses in this particular case, I could’ve easily just run through the woods and gone onto their properties, again, if I was creepy. I don’t think I am creepy, but I am an increasingly cynical man who thinks there are a lot of creepy, generally unwell people in this world. Again, it got me wondering: would I feel comfortable living close to a popular trail? I’d like to pose the same question to you readers.
I’m unsure what made my mind go to a creepy place in Hot Springs. Undoubtedly, something I read or watched, but I can 100% pinpoint why the folks traversing our nation’s great trails have given me pause recently: the HBO Max documentary They Called Him Mostly Harmless. I don’t want to give much away because if you’re a fan or critic (or like me…somewhere in between) of true crime, it’s a wild ride, but suffice to say the documentary is populated by people who spend a lot of time on the Appalachian Trail…and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere these people would be able to easily waltz onto my porch.
That said, somewhere deep inside, I felt that this fear of living close to a trail was probably misguided. Based on some very cursory Googling, that hypothesis is true. According to the internet, there have only been 13 murders on the Appalachian Trail since 1974. Are some of these very gruesome, and does one include death by hatchet? YES. BUT, statistically, this doesn’t make the trail particularly dangerous, and based on the one website I went to, hikers murder other hikers, not people living in nearby homes.
I also found, on another internet site, that there is a .00003% chance you’ll be murdered hiking and that you are many hundreds of times more likely to be murdered off a trail in the United States than on one. As this passage from The American Hiking Organization so astutely puts it:
Here’s the truth—most hikers, even experienced ones, spend too much time and energy worrying about the scary—but low percentage threats like bears, mountain lions and poisonous snakes (granted, in some areas these are real threats, but..) and not enough time concerning themselves with the dull but common dangers like germs, blisters and hypothermia.
While that passage doesn’t specifically cite murders, it’s 100% true. It’s not the places and things that scare you that get you in the end. As I always tell my dad every time he fears for my sister’s safety living in the “crime-ridden” city of Philadelphia, today we could easily be shot in a Walmart, grocery store, or minding our business at a bowling alley. Sorry to be Debbie Downer, but that’s just reality.
So…logically, especially as someone who loves the outdoors, I should actually want to live near a great hiking trail since it inherently shouldn’t give me anything to worry about. That all being said, the chances of being bitten by a shark are 1 in 3.7 million…yet I take pains to ensure that there are always at least two people further out than me anytime I enter the ocean.
Anyway, as a reward for making it through this borderline nonsensical ramble, please enjoy these photos of Lunch Rock at sunset.
AshevilleExplorer 