Twenty years ago, in the summer of 1977, my wife Linda and I spent four months completing a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. Linda had just graduated from college, and after completing the trail, we moved to Oregon for me to finish college. We also had great dreams of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, The Continental Divide, and cycling across the United States. Ah, youth! In the years following school, career goals changed. Linda's degree was in Special Education, and mine in Forest Management, but life takes interesting twists and turns, and both of us are now involved with computers. I am an independent software engineer with and Linda is a software instructor. Over the years, we maintained a love of the outdoors, but our big treks were limited to summer camping vacations, weekend backpacking trips and day hikes.

With the birth of our son in 1983, we moved from youth to responsibility. We purchased a home and settled down to your typical suburban life style. Most of our summer vacations are still spent camping, but weekends are often filled with other activities like soccer, baseball, and Boy Scouts.

Several years ago, we decided to compile our 1977 journals into book form, and printed a number of copies to give to our families and the people who supported us along the trail. We have since posted the journals to our Web site, Appalachian Journals. During this project we started talking about returning to the trail for a twenty year anniversary hike. We'd discuss it a while then store it away for future thought. I'm not sure if either of us seriously thought we would do it. After all, we both had careers, plus we'd have some serious work to do just to get into physical shape to do the hike.

In the Spring of 1995, while working at the computer one day, my back went out. At the time, I thought I just sat in my chair wrong. I felt a pop just before the pain hit. For the next few months, I was only able to work a few days a week. The rest of the time, I spent lying in bed. Spring dragged into summer and still no relief. Visits to a chiropractor and exercises failed to bring any significant relief.

Finally in September, I overcame my aversion to doctors, and went in to get checked. An overnight hospital stay, four weeks of tests and a CT Scan later, a large tumor was found growing in my back. It was cancer, but the doctors weren't sure what kind. For the next four weeks the doctors tried to determine the type of cancer. That time was extremely nerve wracking for us. We had to put our lives on hold. Was the cancer terminal? If so, how much time would be left? Could it be cured? Lots of questions and no answers.

Shortly after surgery to biopsy a piece of the tumor, my oncologist called me in to deliver the news, Testicular Cancer. I'd never heard of it before. It was reasonably rare, plus I did not fit into any of the standard profiles. Just my luck! (Since then, Olympic Gold medal figure skater, Scott Hamilton, and Olympic cyclist, Lance Armstrong have been diagnosed with it.) My doctor delivered the news with a big smile on his face. "This one we can cure," he said. I gathered from his comments that he doesn't get much opportunity to deliver good news.

For the next three months I underwent four courses of chemotherapy, with all of usual side effects (hair loss, etc.). With the first day of Chemo, the pain in my back disappeared. Following the treatment, the tumor had reduced in size by 75 percent. For the next year following treatment the tumor continued to shrink. To date there have been no further signs of cancer. As with most things in life, there are no guarantees, but the future is no longer a cloud to me.

My cancer was like the ringing of a bell to me. All of a sudden I'm no longer invulnerable. Life began to take on a new meaning. During the months of my recovery, Linda and I decided to attempt a return to the AT for a couple of months. This would mark the end of my recovery.

When we finally realized the trip might be physically possible, we also decided that this year has a great deal of significance for a couple reasons. It is the 20th anniversary of our 1977 thru-hike, and our son, Brandon, at 13, is the perfect age. He's old enough to physically take on the challenge of an extended hike, but still young enough to be willing to spend the entire summer in the company of his parents. That may never happen again, but we hope this trip will help to tighten our family bonds as Brandon moves on to high school next fall.

Ron "Fallingwater" Moak
Linda "Red Rainbow" Moak
Brandon "Lucky 13" Moak