Returning home to the U.S. after 20 years in England as a popular humor writer, Bill Bryson settled in New Hampshire and became obsessed by the challenge of walking the Appalachian Trail (AT). Accompanied only by a college buddy he hadn't seen in years, Bryson started out one March morning in north Georgia, intending to walk the entire trail to Maine's Mount Katahdin. (Imagine backpacking the distance from Portland. Or to Little Rock, Arkansas over terrain similar to our Coast Range.)

     If you've run or walked Hood to Coast, you'll recall seeing some participants on "leg one" who are out-of-shape and absolutely beat. You and your teammates wonder how these poor souls will ever make it to Seaside. Bill Bryson and his friend are even less prepared to do a much more rigorous journey. Any of us Striders reading Bryson's account would groan, "Snickers? Oreos? Don't you guys know about Powerbars and Cliff Bars? Did you even consider training for this 2,100 mile backpack trip--like putting on your boots and trying out your loaded packs for a few miles?" In the face of hypothermic weather conditions, ravenous insects, and a rapscallion hiking partner whose talents are swearing, going on strike, and lightening his pack by flinging his supplies, it's a wonder Bryson still speaks to his friend. Think of a Hood to Coast team misfit and multiply his/her worst qualities by a thousand.

     Along the way, Bryson says, he learned to appreciate small pleasures: "a shower, hot meal, pillow--things we all take for granted. I found an America, that I didn't even know was out there."