April 6, 2018 at 1:53 p.m.
QUARTER-CENTURY HIKE
82-year-old reaches end of the Appalachian Trail
In September, at the age of 82, he finally finished the 2,181-mile trek. He'd spent a quarter-century hiking bits and pieces of the trail to cover its entire length - 14 states, from Georgia to Maine.
The end of the journey has left a slight hole in his life.
"There's some sadness there," Mr. Tschinkel admitted. But "there's some joy. I'm really thankful that I had the health to do it."
Thousands of people attempt to "through-hike" the Appalachian Trail every year, but Mr. Tschinkel had neither the time nor the interest to do the whole trek in one shot.
"To me, it was the journey; it was the planning, meeting the people," he said.
Planning a week of hiking - including mapping out trailheads and packing - often took a week in itself. The Appalachian Trail is "not just a designated walk from here to there," Mr. Tschinkel explained.
He carried a map, a compass, matches, a first aid kit, water purifying tablets, rain gear, a sleeping bag and a mummy-shaped air mattress. He likes to keep his load under 30 pounds, skipping items like a radio or a pillow.
Mr. Tschinkel retired as a telephone company repair technician and installer in 1991. He and his wife, Joan, have lived in Delmar for seven years; they serve as extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist at their parish.
Family affair
It seems everyone in Mr. Tschinkel's life was involved in his Appalachian Trail expedition in some way. Family and friends joined him as hiking partners; his wife, Joan, served as chauffeur.
"All six of us had someone in our families hike with him," recalled Kristin Olson, the Tschinkels' youngest child.
Mrs. Olson's husband hiked 67 miles with Mr. Tschinkel last summer. The Olsons and their sons, ages nine and six, hiked 33 miles during August in the Great Smoky Mountains on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee.
The family slept in a lean-to and forged ahead through wind and rain.
"At one point, [my six-year-old] was standing up on this cliff and praying, 'Please, God, I want you to have rain for the animals, but don't give us thunder,'" Mrs. Olson recalled.
Mrs. Olson credited her mother with grueling behind-the-scenes work: navigating narrow dirt roads, tolerating the road rage of other drivers and dodging mountainous drop-offs.
After Mrs. Tschinkel dropped her husband off, she would find the other end of the trail - often without a GPS signal. She worried for his life if he didn't reach that point at an agreed-upon time. One time, a park ranger told Mrs. Tschinkel her husband had taken a wrong turn on the trail. She was in tears by the time Mr. Tschinkel finally made it to the car.
"I was, like, three minutes late," Mr. Tschinkel argued, conceding: "She was very brave and very helpful and very supportive."
The family often vacationed with Mrs. Tschinkel while Mr. Tschinkel hiked. "She needed a support crew, too," Mrs. Olson remarked.
Mrs. Tschinkel, now 78, injured her knee and stopped participating in the hikes a few years ago. "It never really was, like, my thing, but I did it because it was something he enjoyed," she said. "Frankly, she lets him go," Mrs. Olson said, adding that gas, gear and hotel fares can rack up large bills. "She wasn't always overjoyed, but in the end, she supported him."
Mr. Tschinkel received clearance from his heart doctor and never injured himself hiking, but he did encounter some challenges: bears, moose, deer, rattlesnakes and other animals. In Mahoosuc Notch, N.H., he traversed some rugged terrain on his back, passing a dead moose that had been trapped. Pennsylvania portions of the trail also proved rocky.
"You could wear out a pair of boots in that state alone," he told The Evangelist.
Walking with God
The most difficult leg of the trip was when it rained for three days straight and Mr. Tschinkel wore wet clothes every morning.
"'What am I doing here?'" he recalled thinking. But the sun eventually rose: "I guess that's where God came in to do His part."
Mr. and Mrs. Tschinkel blessed themselves at the start of each trip. Mr. Tschinkel prayed the Rosary on his fingers - hiking poles made it hard to carry beads - when he got lonely.
"It's almost like having someone there," he said.
He was delighted by "trail magic": coolers of drinks and snacks left at trailheads by trail veterans. He also enjoyed the hospitality of residents when he passed through towns; he even stayed in a friary in Garrison to save on lodging costs.
Mr. Tschinkel sometimes found hiking partners through hobby magazines, but never felt alone if no one walked alongside him. Other hikers, he learned, are not "just hippies. These people are doctors and lawyers and all kinds of people."[[In-content Ad]]
250 X 250 AD
250 X 250 AD
Events
250 X 250 AD
Comments:
You must login to comment.