Product Description

The Appalachian Trail trail stretches from Georgia to Maine and covers some of the most breathtaking terrain in America–majestic mountains, silent forests, sparking lakes. If you’re going to take a hike, it’s probably the place to go. And Bill Bryson is surely the most entertaing guide you’ll find. He introduces us to the history and ecology of the trail and to some of the other hardy (or just foolhardy) folks he meets along the way–and a couple of bears. Already a classic, A Walk in the Woods will make you long for the great outdoors (or at least a comfortable chair to sit and read in).

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #1329 in Books
• Published on: 2006-12-26
• Released on: 2006-12-26
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 416 pages

Review
“Bryson is a very funny writer who could wring humor from a clammy sleeping bag.” –The Philadelphia Inquirer

“Short of doing it yourself, the best way of escaping into nature is to read a book like A Walk in the Woods.”–The New York Times

“A terribly misguided, and terribly funny tale of adventure.... The yarn is choke-on-your-coffee funny.” –The Washington Post

“Bill Bryson could write an essay about dryer lint or fever reducers and still make us laugh out loud.” –Chicago Sun-Times

“Delightful.” –The Plain Dealer

“It’s great adventure, on a human sacle, with survuivable discomforts, and, happily, everybody goes home afterwards.” –Times Picayune

About the Author
Bill Bryson's bestselling books include A Walk in the Woods, Neither Here Nor There, In a Sunburned Country, Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words, and A Short History of Nearly Everything, the latter of which earned him the 2004 Aventis Prize. Bryson lives in England with his wife and children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
We hiked till five and camped beside a tranquil spring in a small, grassy clearing in the trees just off the trail.  Because it was our first day back on the trail, we were flush for food, including perishables like cheese and bread that had to be eaten before they went off or were shaken to bits in our packs, so we rather gorged ourselves, then sat around smoking and chatting idly until persistent and numerous midgelike creatures (no-see-ums, as they are universally known along the trail) drove us into our tents.  It was perfect sleeping weather, cool enough to need a bag but warm enough that you could sleep in your underwear, and I was looking forward to a long night's snooze--indeed was enjoying a long night's snooze--when, at some indeterminate dark hour, there was a sound nearby that made my eyes fly open.  Normally, I slept through everything--through thunderstorms, through Katz's snoring and noisy midnight pees--so something big enough or distinctive enough to wake me was unusual.  There was a sound of undergrowth being disturbed--a click of breaking branches, a weighty pushing through low foliage--and then a kind of large, vaguely irritable snuffling noise.

Bear!

I sat bolt upright.  Instantly every neuron in my brain was awake and dashing around frantically, like ants when you disturb their nest.  I reached instinctively for my knife, then realized I had left it in my pack, just outside the tent.  Nocturnal defense had ceased to be a concern after many successive nights of tranquil woodland repose.  There was another noise, quite near.

"Stephen, you awake?"  I whispered.

"Yup," he replied in a weary but normal voice.

"What was that?"

"How the hell should I know."

"It sounded big."

"Everything sounds big in the woods."

This was true.  Once a skunk had come plodding through our camp and it had sounded like a stegosaurus.  There was another heavy rustle and then the sound of lapping at the spring.  It was having a drink, whatever it was.

I shuffled on my knees to the foot of the tent, cautiously unzipped the mesh and peered out, but it was pitch black.  As quietly as I could, I brought in my backpack and with the light of a small flashlight searched through it for my knife.  When I found it and opened the blade I was appalled at how wimpy it looked.  It was a perfectly respectable appliance for, say, buttering pancakes, but patently inadequate for defending oneself against 400 pounds of ravenous fur.

Carefully, very carefully, I climbed from the tent and put on the flashlight, which cast a distressingly feeble beam.  Something about fifteen or twenty feet away looked up at me.  I couldn't see anything at all of its shape or size--only two shining eyes.  It went silent, whatever it was, and stared back at me.

"Stephen," I whispered at his tent, "did you pack a knife?"

"No."

"Have you get anything sharp at all?"

He thought for a moment.  "Nail clippers."

I made a despairing face.  "Anything a little more vicious than that?  Because, you see, there is definitely something out here."

"It's probably just a skunk."

"Then it's one big skunk.  Its eyes are three feet off the ground."

"A deer then."

I nervously threw a stick at the animal, and it didn't move, whatever it was.  A deer would have bolted.  This thing just blinked once and kept staring.

I reported this to Katz.

"Probably a buck.  They're not so timid.  Try shouting at it."

I cautiously shouted at it: "Hey!  You there!  Scat!"  The creature blinked again, singularly unmoved.  "You shout," I said.

"Oh, you brute, go away, do!"  Katz shouted in merciless imitation.  "Please withdraw at once, you horrid creature."

"Fuck you," I said and lugged my tent right over to his.  I didn't know what this would achieve exactly, but it brought me a tiny measure of comfort to be nearer to him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm moving my tent."

"Oh, good plan.  That'll really confuse it."

I peered and peered, but I couldn't see anything but those two wide-set eyes staring from the near distance like eyes in a cartoon.  I couldn't decide whether I wanted to be outside and dead or inside and waiting to be dead.  I was barefoot and in my underwear and shivering.  What I really wanted--really, really wanted--was for the animal to withdraw.  I picked up a small stone and tossed it at it.  I think it may have hit it because the animal made a sudden noisy start (which scared the bejesus out of me and brought a whimper to my lips) and then emitted a noise--not quite a growl, but near enough.  It occurred to me that perhaps I oughtn't provoke it.

"What are you doing, Bryson?  Just leave it alone and it will go away."

"How can you be so calm?"

"What do you want me to do?  You're hysterical enough for both of us."

"I think I have a right to be a trifle alarmed, pardon me.  I'm in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, staring at a bear, with a guy who has nothing to defend himself with but a pair of nail clippers.  Let me ask you this.  If it is a bear and it comes for you, what are you going to do--give it a pedicure?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," Katz said implacably.

"What do you mean you'll cross that bridge?  We're on the bridge, you moron.  There's a bear out here, for Christ sake.  He's looking at us.  He smells noodles and Snickers and--oh, shit."

"What?"

"Oh.  Shit."

"What?"

"There's two of them.  I can see another pair of eyes."  Just then, the flashlight battery started to go.  The light flickered and then vanished.  I scampered into my tent, stabbing myself lightly but hysterically in the thigh as I went, and began a quietly frantic search for spare batteries.  If I were a bear, this would be the moment I would choose to lunge.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Katz announced.

"What are you talking about?  You can't go to sleep."

"Sure I can.  I've done it lots of times."  There was the sound of him rolling over and a series of snuffling noises, not unlike those of the creature outside.

"Stephen, you can't go to sleep," I ordered.  But he could and he did, with amazing rapidity.

The creature--creatures, now--resumed drinking, with heavy lapping noises.  I couldn't find any replacement batteries, so I flung the flashlight aside and put my miner's lamp on my head, made sure it worked, then switched it off to conserve the batteries.  Then I sat for ages on my knees, facing the front of the tent, listening keenly, gripping my walking stick like a club, ready to beat back an attack, with my knife open and at hand as a last line of defense.  The bears--animals, whatever they were--drank for perhaps twenty minutes more, then quietly departed the way they had come.  It was a joyous moment, but I knew from my reading that they would be likely to return.  I listened and listened, but the forest returned to silence and stayed there.

Eventually I loosened my grip on the walking stick and put on a sweater--pausing twice to examine the tiniest noises, dreading the sound of a revisit--and after a very long time got back into my sleeping bag for warmth.  I lay there for a long time staring at total blackness and knew that never again would I sleep in the woods with a light heart.

And then, irresistibly and by degrees, I fell asleep.



    


From the Hardcover edition.

Customer Reviews

Great read!!
Loved the book. And it reads really fast and funny!! Being a resident and hiker in western NC, I was disappointed that they skipped all of my area, which I think is the best and most beautiful part of the AT that I have seen. But having hiked many pieces of the AT, I surely can relate to his experiences.

Very funny, insightful and informative
A Walk in the Woods

On a recent trip to my local bookstore, the cover of this bright green paperback caught my attention. Or maybe it was the bear peering out at me. I'm not sure. I'm a frequent hiker myself, and have always dreamed of hiking the entire Appalachian Trail, so reading the description for this book immediately peaked my interest.

I was not disappointed. With the book, that is. It was everything the back reviews said it would be--Bryson finds comic wit to expend on every situation. His hiking partner, Katz, had some one-liners that made me laugh out loud, if not cringe a bit at their social meanness. And I appreciated reading the story of a hiker who did not head out into the woods with a Bear Grylls level of fitness and training. Having hiked myself, I know the bone-weariness and utter despair that sometimes can come over you when you've just climbed an impossible hill to discover...another impossible hill. Bryson both loves and hates the woods and the trail and I think that's a pretty honest response to the wilderness. There's nowhere I'd rather ever be than out in the deep, green woods on a cool day. Or even a hot day or the cold, grey-brown of winter. But that doesn't mean the woods don't sometimes feel like they're crushing the life out of you. And, having not been a thru-hiker, I've never even had to do it with a 50-pound pack on!

I also appreciated that the book was sprinkled with short bits relating some of the history or botany of the trail. That is to say, I liked the facts, but sometimes rankled a bit at the preachiness. Bryson goes on at length about the loss of some species of tree, like the famous American chestnut. It's easy to be sad for the loss of the chestnut. One stupid asian fungus and the entire species of tree is wiped out! And while it's unquestionably human error that led to the fungus being transported here and killing off the species, there is an argument for Darwinism to be made here. Humans are not the only creatures who transport pollen, seeds, microbes, etc. from one part of the world to another. Birds do this, hurricanes do it, tsunamis certainly do it, even volcanic eruptions can cause massive shifts in atmospheric streams, raining foreign particles onto lands. In other words, if one tiny fungus was all it took to knock out an entire species, then that species, possibly, was just not strong enough to survive the brutality of the natural world. It was too cloistered for too long, and when it died off, it made room in the forests for hardier trees that could withstand the punishment. This is the way of it. In other words, had humans stepped in and genetically altered the chestnut or found a way to spray it with something that protected it from the fungus--well, what is really the unnatural occurrence here? What newer, cooler tree did we possibly prevent from evolving because we prodded the chestnut along beyond its natural lifespan? I mean, that's not to say that letting the tree die off was the "correct" course either. The point is there are arguments for right and wrong on both sides, so couching the "facts" that Bryson presents with such an air of superiority turned me off a bit from that aspect of the book.

The only other part that I found a tiny bit disappointing is that he doesn't, in fact, wind up hiking the trail. In fact, he only does about a third of it. Walking 800+ miles in one summer is no small feat, but I was kind of routing for him to really get out there and conquer the path.

In the end, I wound up finishing this book in two days. For a story about one, long walk through the woods, it's never once boring or repetitive. There is always a new interesting anecdote or, even better, funny character that Bryson meets along the way. This is a must-read for anyone who loves to hike, or thinks they may. One thing is for sure, reading it makes me want to hoist on my pack and head out for the nearest woods I can find.

Good but loses steam
Ive not read anything by Bill Bryson before so I had no idea what to expect. I'm one of those who has always wanted to do the AT but from the comfort of my couch so this gave me a flavor of what I was missing! Two middle-aged out of shape men trying to prove to themselves that they're otherwise by trying to go the distance. The pace of the book moved along well with some interesting educational facts thrown in to put things in perspective. However, I felt the ending lacked the same punch the rest of the book had and not because they failed to meet their goal. Seemed like he ran out of things to say. Still, all in all this was an enjoyable read.