At trail’s end

Olean Kenny had scrapes across her knees and elbows from her fall, but it was her foot that hurt the most. One misstep among the millions of steps she’d taken in the Northeastern wilderness had suddenly altered her summer, stopping her in her tracks somewhere in the dense Maine forest.

Last summer, Kenny, a Chelsea resident, drove all the way from Alabama to the top of the country to hike. Her friends, Lynn Odom and Dale South, came along because, for Kenny, this was the last leg. Their planned path from inner Maine across the New Hampshire state line represented the only 51 miles of the Appalachian Trail Kenny had yet to conquer.

But last summer, they only made it 10 miles.

Kenny fell while fording a creek, and though her knee was injured she kept going. But on this trip, when it rained, it poured. Another fall soon after pulled her Achilles tendon.

Still, she pressed on.

The trio climbed a mountain as dusk neared, and at the top, Kenny finally called it off. Looking west, she still had 41 miles to go. It was 41 miles of unspeakably rugged terrain, notorious for its three-story rebar ladders, bog bridges and 45-degree rock faces, but it was the last 41 miles. And despite everything that urged her to keep moving, she knew she couldn’t do it.

“We were going to hang our hammocks, and I decided then I couldn’t walk anymore,” she said. “So I limped out to the road and cried like a baby to think that we all drove up here and that I couldn’t finish.”

At that point in 2012, Kenny had spent nearly almost three decades of vacations from her nearly 42-year career at Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport in the wild. She’d used it to traverse 2,150 miles of the Trail. 2012 was her year to finish, but instead she spent five weeks in a walking boot.

But when she healed, she got back in shape. And in August, at 59 years old, Kenny got on a plane.

“I realized that the more I stayed away from it, the easier it was to stay away from it,” Kenny said. “I said to myself, ‘I’ve got to make a move this year, I’m not getting any younger.’ So, I got a ticket, flew up to Maine and got dropped off on the side of the road.”

Kenny faced her final 41 miles by herself, conquering some of the most rugged hiking terrain anywhere on the Appalachian Trail. And on Sept. 10, she finished by crossing the Androscoggin River via a bridge next to a power plant, entering the town of Gorham, N.H.

“I was so beat up when I reached Gorham,” she said. “I raised my hands in the air and thanked God for letting me finish without getting hurt.”

She had hiked 12 miles that day, nearly doubling her average, and in doing so completed a project she started 29 years before. Georgia to Maine — 2,200 miles — about two weeks at a time.

She caught a ride to the airport in Portland, Maine, for her flight out and hobbled onto the plane, refusing an offer to use a wheelchair. Her legs were swollen and her hips ached. And when she got back to town, she retired.

“I decided it was through God’s blessing that I hiked it, and I can check it off my bucket list,” she said. “Then, I decided I didn’t want to work any more.”

Kenny’s journey on the Trail started in 1984. Motivated by substantial health problems in her family including obesity and heart disease, she decided she wanted to take on a physically demanding project that would keep her in shape for years to come.

She thought back to the 1960s, when two reporters from her local paper hiked the trail and printed the stories from their trek. She decided she would too, and she joined the Appalachian Trail Club of Alabama.

The club, now dissolved, put her on the Pinhoti Trail, which begins southeast of Birmingham at Flagg Mountain and runs northeast for 146 miles into Georgia. She performed maintenance on the Pinhoti and met many of her future hiking partners in the process.

As a “section hiker” — one who completes the trail in pieces as opposed to a “through hiker” who completes it in one excursion — Kenny was afforded the opportunity to take on each part with whomever she chose.

She started the trail in Springer Mountain, Ga., with Foster Parsons, and up through Virginia they were joined by Tina Isabella, Sally Hall and Tom Coffield among many others. Kenny fought her way to New Hampshire with Parsons, joined for parts by more hikers including Theresa Huckabee and Lynn Odom.

Kenny’s trail mates fondly remembered her reluctance to slow down. “You just want to make that next mile,” Kenny said several times when describing the Trail, and her friends were familiar with the mindset.

Odom said she got sick once on the Trail and Kenny left her. Parsons spent 41 hours in his hammock riding out a storm while Kenny pressed on.

In the wild, everyone had a trail name. Odom was “Tuck and Roll” courtesy of her clumsy nature. It was Odom’s water bottle Kenny was chasing when she hurt her knee in 2012. Kenny was “Chigger Red” for her Alabama roots, and Dale South, a Tuscaloosa resident and notorious “ultralighter,” was “Loner Husband.”

South not only taught Kenny how to lighten her pack, he joined her on multiple hikes in the Northeast — including the Trail’s top point. Mount Katahdin, the tallest mountain in Maine, is 5,300 feet of rock face, and at its summit is something seen only once along the Trail.

“Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail.”

South convinced Kenny to skip to Katadhin and return later to finish the rest. She was thankful. The five-mile hike to the summit took her 14 hours round-trip, and when she came off the rock, she crashed.

Her hiking partners all said the same things of Kenny — that she was a friend to everyone and a constant source of encouragement on the Trail. They’d spent weeks together talking about their lives at first, but often finding common ground in discussing the terrain they crossed.

Last month, two weeks after Kenny finished her final leg, they shared a trail again. Most of them found their way to Chelsea Church of God on a Sunday afternoon, where they joined her family and friends to celebrate the accomplishments of “Chigger Red” and recount the miles they’d spent together.

Even Chelsea Mayor Earl Niven attended to present Kenny with a plaque recognizing her accomplishment.

“The City of Chelsea has bought property over behind the high school for a recreation facility and we do plan to have a walking trail. I might just invite you to come for the ribbon-cutting when we get to that,” Niven said, garnering applause from the audience.

Kenny hugged them and cried like they had all been there Sept. 10, watching her limp across the bridge into Gorham.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail

Described by Chelsea resident Olean Kenny  

On encountering wildlife:

I have been asked constantly, ‘do you see any bears’ or ‘do you see any snakes’ and ‘aren’t you scared about sleeping out there all by yourself.’ I say, ‘No, because you all smell alike. You all stink to the hilt.’

On trail shelters:

There is no position you can get in where your hips won’t kill you. You can’t imagine how hard those floors are.

On the toughest terrain:

Maine’s car tags should say “Topless Mountains,” because they’re just forever and ever.

On finishing the Trail:

“I couldn’t have done it without God, and I want to thank all these people who helped and inspired me along the way. Don’t ever give up. You can succeed at your dream, too, no matter what it is.”