A Walk in the Woods was the first book I decided to read in preparation for our upcoming thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. This book is praised as the inspiration of many a thru-hike, but I have to say the only way that this book inspired me at all was to grind my teeth in frustration.
A Walk in the Woods is a self-self-proclaimed rediscovery of America via the Appalachian Trail from someone who has not lived in the country in twenty years. After preparing for his expedition with a quick visit to the local outfitter and begging old friends to come with him, Bryson and his friend Katz set out on the trail, only to have misadventure after misadventure. Bryson and Katz eventually realize that they are in no way, shape, or form going to finish hiking the Appalachian Trail. They part in Front Royal and agree to meet back up at the start of the 100-Mile Wilderness one month later. Bryson takes the opportunity during this down time to drive along the Appalachian Trail and section hike. Once he and Kats are reunited, they make it to West Chairback Pond in Maine after Katz gets lost in the woods, and they decide to call it quits. They never get to even see Katahdin.
Now, I am a big supporter of the idea of hike your own hike (HYOH), but my god how can anyone call this trip a “rediscovering of America?” At best, this book is a self high-five for taking a chance on a once in a lifetime adventure, full of personal opinions muddled in sarcasm and not much on his actual experiences hiking.
Bill Bryson is a sarcastic ass, and while I can appreciate some of his humor, I was mostly shaking my head in dismay. And Katz. Katz. I wanted to throw Katz off of a mountain just as he chucked half of the contents of his pack off a mountain. How these two men talk about and treat women is probably the most disgusting thing I’ve read in my life.
The number one thing that bothered my about this book was the manner in which Bryson flip-flops between wanting to preserve the nature surrounding trail and wanting to see it more developed or “restored” to farmland. He does this several times, especially through the Smokies. His prose reads as if he is an expert on national parks or conservation or preservation efforts or “how things should be,” but I highly doubt his expertise in any of these areas. This book would be infinitely more enjoyable if Mr. Bryson didn’t inject his own personal opinions on certain matters into every single paragraph. He is excruciatingly negative. Everything could be done better or differently, and he doesn’t hesitate to say so. I have to say I’m not used to this sort of subjective writing, as I’ve spent the last 5 years of my undergrad reading objective scientific papers.
I enjoyed almost nothing of this book; not even his descriptions of his interactions with people on the trail. Again, he has almost nothing nice to say. Every interaction is written in a way that makes whomever he is speaking with sound like a backwoods idiot. This is a sad disservice to the people of the Appalachian Trail, as I’ve heard from so many the people you meet are one of the great gifts of the trail.
I will concede that this book tends to give people an appreciation for what it takes to hike the Appalachian Trail or to do any extended backpacking, and that is something I am grateful for.
I encourage anyone to read the book and form their own opinion, but if you’re looking for a book that will show you what the trail is like, this is not the book for you.
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