I carried some of these books. I scribbled in them. I spilled peanut butter on one. I also read a few in a bunk at a hostel, with my feet aching and my socks steaming. Here’s the truth: the right book can save a bad day on the A.T. And the wrong one? It just adds weight.
Let me explain what actually helped me on trail and during planning. Real pages. Real miles. Real talk. If you’re just looking for the bullet-point version, I summed it up in this quick companion guide.
The A.T. Guide by David “AWOL” Miller — My Mile-By-Mile Buddy
I thought I’d hate carrying paper. Then I didn’t. AWOL’s guide sat in a zip-top bag and lived in my right hip pocket. I dog-eared it so much the corners turned soft. If you want to peek inside the guide itself, the publisher offers a thorough breakdown of its symbols and layout right here. And if you’re curious about how David “AWOL” Miller evolved from cubicle life to trail legend, this profile captures his story.
- How I used it: I’d plan water and lunch spots each morning. Example: Leaving Neel Gap, I used the elevation profile to time my snack before Blood Mountain. In Hot Springs, I followed the town map straight to Laughing Heart Hostel. In Maine, the Kennebec River ferry hours were right there. No guesswork.
- Why it worked: Clear mile markers, easy symbols, town maps, shuttle numbers, and a profile that let me “see” climbs.
- What bugged me: Rain and paper don’t mix. Ever try to flip a wet page with cold fingers? Also, it updates each year, so your copy may age fast. It’s a bit chunky, so I tore out finished sections and mailed the rest to myself at Damascus.
Pro tip that’s not fancy at all: I paired AWOL with the FarOut app. App for water comments and closures; AWOL for the big picture. Belt and suspenders.
By the way, town days aren’t just for laundry and burgers. If you’re single and curious about meeting new people while you bounce between trail towns and hostels, you might appreciate checking out this roundup of the best sex and dating apps for singles in 2025—it breaks down which platforms actually work, details their safety features, and shows how to get chatting fast, so you can decide whether to spend that precious Wi-Fi signal on a quick download or another episode of your favorite podcast.
When the footpath pushes you into northern New Jersey and you’re suddenly within striking distance of big-town amenities, some hikers slip off-trail for a night of real sheets and maybe even a bit of grown-up company; veteran NOBOs tipped me off to the Listcrawler Maywood listings where you can quickly scan real-time posts, set up a massage or low-key meet-up without endless swiping, and still catch the early bus back to the trail the next morning refreshed.
Appalachian Trials by Zach Davis — The Head Game Book
This one isn’t a gear list. It’s about your brain. I wrote my “Why am I hiking?” list after reading it. I taped that list to my food bag with crusty duct tape. When the Pennsylvania rocks chewed my feet, I read it again and again. It sounds cheesy. It worked.
- What I loved: Simple mental moves. The book asks you to write reasons and promises. I did it. It helped me not quit near Duncannon.
- What I didn’t: Some parts feel like long blog posts. A bit repetitive. Not a trail guide. But that’s not the point.
The Thru-Hiker’s Companion (ALDHA) — The Shelter Table Classic
I traded this book back and forth with a friend. It’s made by hikers, and you can tell. Good notes on shelters, privies, and oddball stuff.
- Real moments: I used it to find the side trail to Woods Hole Hostel near Pearisburg. Also found the phone number for Standing Bear Farm after the Smokies. Lifesavers.
- Good: Tons of practical bits. Volunteer heart. Straight talk on water and tent sites.
- Not so good: Dense text. Fewer maps. Some info drifted by mid-season as places changed owners.
Grandma Gatewood’s Walk by Ben Montgomery — The “Carry Less” Wake-Up
I read this one at home, then again on a zero. It’s the story of Emma Gatewood, who hiked the A.T. in canvas shoes and carried a shower curtain. A shower curtain! After the first read, I cut two pounds from my pack. No joke.
- Why it stuck: It’s warm and stubborn and plain. It made me ask, “Do I really need this extra fleece?”
- Heads-up: It also covers parts of her hard home life. Heavy topic. Not a guidebook. More soul than stats.
Becoming Odyssa by Jennifer Pharr Davis — Candid, Brave, And Very Real
I read this early and felt seen. As a woman alone on trail, I picked up small safety habits from her stories. Like trusting my gut, leaving when a spot felt off, and sharing my plan with another hiker.
- What worked: Honest tone, steady growth, and real trail scenes. You’ll hear the wind in the Smokies. You’ll smell wet pine.
- What didn’t: The pace jerks a bit. Some faith notes pop in and out; that may not be your thing. Still worth it.
For an even deeper dive into women’s experiences on the A.T., you can read my field notes on the documentary in this hands-on review.
A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson — Funny, But Not a Field Manual
I laughed out loud at the bear rant and the gear shop scene. Like, actually laughed in my tent. But let’s be clear: this is a humor book. He didn’t finish the whole trail. Some hikers roll their eyes at it.
- Good: It’s light, fast, and gets folks curious about the A.T.
- Meh: Not a how-to. He jabs at stuff that means a lot to hikers. I still enjoyed it, but I kept my salt shaker handy.
North by Scott Jurek (with Jenny Jurek) — Grit for the Hard Days
Long climbs in the White Mountains felt a little less scary after this. It’s about an FKT run, not a normal hike, but the grit carries over. I read chapters in a bunk at Shaw’s in Monson, right before the 100-Mile Wilderness, and it gave me a quiet push.
- What it gave me: Respect for crew work, weather windows, and small wins.
- What it isn’t: A planning tool. More fuel for your heart than for your spreadsheet.
Appalachian Trail Data Book (ATC) — The Tiny Cheat Sheet
I kept this in a side pocket. It’s bare bones. Distances, major points, codes. I tore out pages as I went. Like a little trail calendar that gets thinner each week.
- Plus: Super light. Fast to scan. Great as a backup if your phone dies.
- Minus: No stories, no town maps, and very few notes.
The Appalachian Trail: Celebrating America’s Hiking Trail — Big Book, Big Photos
This one lived on my coffee table before I left. I’d flip it on rainy nights and picture myself on those ridges. The photos of fall color in Vermont? Yeah. That’s the poster in my head when the climb hurts.
- Joy: It sets the dream. You see the whole spine of the East.
- Reality: It’s heavy and huge. Not coming in your pack.
Where’s the Next Shelter? by Gary Sizer — Sounds Like a Campfire
I read this on a rest day in Damascus during Trail Days. It felt like listening to hikers swap stories by a fire. Slang, jokes, and some mess ups that feel very true.
- What I liked: It’s chatty and human. The rhythm feels like “trail talk.”
- What I didn’t: Some rough language and tall-tale vibes. Not a guide.
How I Actually Used These On-Trail
- I marked AWOL each morning with a tiny pencil. Circle for water. Star for lunch. Box for camp.
- I kept my reasons from Appalachian Trials on a note card inside my food bag. Read it when the rain hit in the Smokies.
- I checked the Companion in shelters to see if the next spring was running, or if a hostel had a shuttle time.
- I set the Data Book on top of my stove bag so I could plan while water heated. Simple habit, big payoff.
You know what? I also made mistakes. I brought two books at once for a week. That was silly. I mailed one home from the post office in Pearisburg and felt five pounds lighter, even if it was only twelve ounces. Curious about everything else that survived my ruthless shakedowns? I spilled the entire pack list [right here](https://prairiebluff.com/role-play-i-hiked-the-appalachian-trail-heres-what-i-actually-carried