National Trails Day is non-denominational: you can celebrate on a paddle trail, a bike trail or a hiking trail. Come one, come all.
Coast
Most ranger-led paddle trips are quick one-hour affairs. This Saturday at Lake Waccamaw State Park you’ll have a full half day to explore this Carolina Bay in the wake of a knowledgeable lead. The paddle starts at 10 a.m.
There are roughly 200,000 miles of trail in the United States, according to the American Hiking Society. Of those that came about over the past couple of decades, the vast majority were created largely by volunteers. And of those that existed beforehand, it’s a good bet they’ve been maintained by volunteers. Without volunteers we wouldn’t have the growing system of trails we now have.
Sunday, I woke up as sore as I’ve been in a long while. Not just leg sore from running, say, a half marathon, or riding a mountain century. And not the shoulder and arm sore from a long paddle. Full-body head-to-toe sore. That’s what a day of honest work will do.
Saturday is National Trails Day, a day set aside for paying homage to the nation’s more than 200,000 miles of trail. In most cases, that involves grabbing a rake, a pickax, a shovel and sprucing up the trails that on the other 364 days of the year we love to death. It’s a day underscoring that without volunteer labor, our trail systems simply wouldn’t exist. Last year, for instance, 190,350 volunteer hours were logged at nearly 2,000 registered National Trails Day events. That represents roughly $3.9 million in labor that our cash-strapped federal, state and local land managers simply couldn’t afford to pay for.
If there were justice in this world, every bank executive and mortgage handler in the land would be forced to turn out on Saturday and participate in National Trails Day. Rationale? Federal, state and municipal land managers are facing drastic cuts as a result of recent recklessness in the financial sector, and they’re more in need than ever for help to maintain existing trails and blaze new ones. Alas, since it’s doubtful we’ll see a brigade of shovel- and mattock-wielding pinstripes flooding our forests Saturday, it’s up to the rest of us.