Lifestyle

Contributor: The trail imparts lessons to aging hikers, and they to us

Published

3 weeks ago

August 15, 2026

Contributor: The trail imparts lessons to aging hikers, and they to us

Growing up in a hiking family with a history along the Appalachian Trail, I became obsessed this summer with 91-year-old Dale “Greybeard” Sanders’ attempt to recapture his record as the oldest person to complete the more than 2,190-mile trek across 14 states. Known as “thru-hikers,” these backpackers walk the entire trail within a 12-month period. Each week, I’d search online for videos showing Greybeard’s journey, a pep in his step or the grueling grind across the miles. The current recordholder, M.J. “Nimblewill Nomad” Eberhart, who knew my parents, achieved this feat at age 83 in 2021, taking the honor from Greybeard, who set a record at age 82 in 2017. I wasn’t surprised to learn the two men were close friends; they even look alike, with their long white beards and sparkling eyes.

But Monday morning this week, with only 142 miles remaining, Greybeard announced he was heading home for rest in Tennessee. He’d spent a night in a Maine hospital due to complications from a fall and then learned his mother-in-law had died. “When it rains unfortunate incidents, it seems to come in buckets,” he wrote in a Facebook post.

These age-defying records and pivots felt personal.

It wasn’t accidental how the Appalachian Trail became my family’s backbone.

When I was about 7, my parents brought my younger siblings and me to Springer Mountain in Georgia, our daypacks filled with cans of Vienna sausages, boxes of raisins, a change of clothes and a sleeping bag.

“If you continue on this trail, you can walk all the way to Maine!” my dad said, pointing northward.

The path felt like a magical forested portal far from coastal Alabama where we lived. As a child, I couldn’t imagine how hiking would shape my parents as they got older: their physical fitness, spiritual connection to nature and access to community — all assets in aging well, according to extensive research. But more importantly, the outdoors would help them, and ultimately me, learn to adapt to change. That’s a survival skill for us all.

With the trail name “Fairhope,” my brother Laurence became the first in our family to complete the Appalachian Trail in 1992, followed by my parents, known as “Annie and the Salesman,” in 1994. Then my sister married a thru-hiker from north Florida.

“Hiking is a walking meditation, a way to carry everything we need,” my mom told me. “We may not leave you much money, but our legacy will be lives of adventure.”

Pursuing a trifecta of long-distance hikes after the Appalachian Trail, my parents completed the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada and nearly half of the Continental Divide Trail when I had my own health crisis. An amniocentesis revealed a serious genetic defect in the chromosomes of the child I was carrying — years before the current extreme restrictions on abortion care. When my parents happened to call from a payphone near the trail, I shared my heartbreaking decision to end the pregnancy.

“We’ll find a way there,” my mom said.

I don’t remember much discussion about abortion when I was younger, and I believe the community of young hikers over many years helped shape my parents’ evolving mindsets on many issues (as well as my mom’s newfound comfort cussing with her Southern drawl).

Somehow they hitchhiked to find a rental car and drove cross-country to Warren Wilson College in western North Carolina, where I still live and teach environmental education. This is a work college where all students hold jobs on campus like farmer, fiber artist and genetics lab tech. Like the trail, it’s a place with steep learning curves.

“Sometimes you have to change course,” my mom said, “when you sense the right path to take.” While she spoke, she held my 3-year-old, who would stay home with my dad while we drove more than five hours to a hospital in Virginia.

More than a month after returning to the Continental Divide Trail, my mom came down with a severe stomach virus, which my father caught a few days later. Much like Greybeard’s pivot, they decided to pause the hike. “The trail will still be here, but mom had a feeling it was time to go home,” my dad said.

Less than a year later in 2003, my mother, 58, was killed in a cycling accident, hit by a teen driver in Fairhope, our hometown. With time and a few trial runs, my dad returned to hike for a month on the Continental Divide Trail without her.

“I was never lonely, but I missed her every day,” he said.

In 2005, wearing a reflective vest and biking on the shoulder of the road, my dad, 64, was hit and killed by another teen driver. At their gravesites, we placed two metal sculptures, the “Final Blaze,” gifts from the Appalachian Trail community, many members of whom came to shovel earth upon the graves.

Since then, I’ve corresponded with Nimblewill Nomad, the record holder and caretaker of a hostel at Flagg Mountain, the start of the Pinhoti Trail in Alabama. There he has dreams to create a community where elders who are hikers can live together in the montane longleaf pine ecosystem.

“Your parents’ heart was years ago divinely placed in trust, in a chest — yours,” he wrote to me years after their deaths.

Now 60, I have outlived my mother, and I’m also surrounded by young people — my two daughters and my students — just as my parents were on their long-distance adventures. My undergrads are rightly fearful about the climate crisis but working in community to find their way. They’ve read the research documenting how the outdoors, including urban green spaces, improves cognition, social connection and physical strength, while decreasing depression and anxiety in all ages, but especially seniors. Nature helps humans adapt to change, and not everyone has proximity to it.

My students also know the Trump administration has cut funding for and even decreased the size of our public lands. They’ve met alums with careers in conservation whose federal jobs no longer exist. And we’re still recovering here from Hurricane Helene, a devastating climate disaster almost two years ago.

But what I know for sure, I tell them, is we must join with others to protect both people and places, even when we don’t know how this path will end. That’s my parents’ legacy to me.

While prepping for classes this week, I checked updates from Greybeard, who was home under the care of his physician for exhaustion after the rugged southern mountains in Maine — but he was cleared to hike again and intended to complete the trail. Regardless of the record-breaking deadline of Sept. 6, he’s adapting to a new “finish plan” and shared this truth for us all: “Together we will conquer this seemingly impossible task.”

Mallory McDuff is the author of several books, including “Our Last Best Act: Planning for the End of Our Lives to Protect the People and Places We Love.” She teaches environmental education at Warren Wilson College.

Lifestyle

After an unexpected loss, a young woman received support from a stranger

Published

8 hours ago

September 8, 2026

Press Room

After an unexpected loss, a young woman received support from a stranger

After her mother died, a stranger she met on her canceled flight home helped Kate Rogan get back to her family in time for the funeral.

Kate Rogan

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Kate Rogan

About 30 years ago, Kate Rogan joined the Peace Corps and moved to El Salvador. About six months into her service, she got a phone call from the country director.

“His exact words were, ‘Kate, I’m so sorry. Your dear mother has died,’” Rogan said.

The news left Rogan in shock. The next few hours were a blur of packing and driving to the airport. Her route home took her from El Salvador to Miami and then from Miami to Boston.

Strangers helped a college student get to his friend in the hospital

But after boarding her final flight, the pilot came on the intercom to tell passengers that Logan International Airport in Boston had just closed due to bad weather.

”People started unbuckling their seat belts, and I looked around, and I didn’t understand what was happening,” Rogan recalled. “I said, ‘What’s happening?’ And people said, ‘They canceled the flight. There’s [a] big snowstorm in Boston. We’re not going anywhere.’”

Stunned and overwhelmed, Rogan began to sob.

“I don’t remember if I screamed or if I said loudly, ‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no, you don’t understand. I need to go to Boston. My mom just died.’”

The people around her began to stare. Then, Rogan felt a hand on her shoulder. It was another passenger.

”She said, ‘Come with me. I got you.’”

The woman helped Rogan off the plane, got her in line for a voucher from the airline and then took her to a hotel.

”And she knocked on my door the next morning, and she got me to the airport again and just took care of me,” Rogan remembered.

When she was 19 years old, Rebecca Stuhlmiller felt like her life was falling apart. One day, while she sobbed at a stoplight, a fellow driver offered a small gesture of kindness that comforted her.

Once they landed in Boston, the woman didn’t say goodbye until she dropped her off with Rogan’s sister at baggage claim.

“I don’t remember what her name was, but if I ever saw her again, I would just say thank you for taking care of me. I was this strong, independent young woman, but in that moment, I could not handle life without somebody helping me. So thank you.”

My Unsung Hero is also a podcast — new episodes are released every Tuesday. To share the story of your unsung hero with the Hidden Brain team, record a voice memo on your phone and send it to myunsunghero@hiddenbrain.org.

Lifestyle

‘It’s a cat on a leash!’ Why so many L.A. people walk their feline friends

Published

9 hours ago

September 8, 2026

Press Room

‘It’s a cat on a leash!’ Why so many L.A. people walk their feline friends

Gnocchi sits attentively on a Beverly Grove sidewalk with his owner, Julia Luke. Gnocchi wears a pink collar with his name on it, an air tag and a red harness with a leash. He observes the neighbors. He sniffs the grass. He watches bugs crawl in the dirt.

A clowder of stories celebrating cats and the L.A. people who love them.

“People know Gnocchi’s name before they know mine,” Luke said.

But seeing Gnocchi stops strangers in their tracks.

That’s because Gnocchi isn’t a dog.

“It’s a cat on a leash!” an unfamiliar neighbor exclaimed recently, stooping to pet him.

While walking cats may seem like a novelty, more Angelenos do it than you think. We asked readers to tell us why they walk their cats, and within hours, roughly 160 people answered. Many said they want to give their pets a fully enriched life, fearing that indoor-only cats miss out on the outdoors experience. Rather than subject free-roaming outdoor cats to dangers like cars and coyotes, some opt for supervised harness and pram walking.

Zephyr leads Ivy in an evening walk in Highland Park. Zephyr is the unspoken boss of Ivy, their owner Hayden Freedman said.

“ I know [Gnocchi is] happier when he has exposure to more sensory things than being inside all day long,” Luke said of her domestic shorthair. “I think about how happy I would be if my whole entire life was inside.”

In Highland Park, Hayden Freedman and her partner, Kyle Smithers, walk their cat, Zephyr, up and down their quiet street, usually once a week. Sometimes they bring their dog, Ivy, who treats the walk more as a cooldown than a workout. (She runs separately with Smithers.)

Zephyr, left, is given a snack while Ivy , right, sniffs Zephyr after going on an afternoon walk.

Over in Silver Lake, Allison Nill walks her cats around the local reservoir in a pet stroller. Safely tucked beneath the pram’s netted covering, Lana — short for Lana Del Rey, a tabby — takes in the sights while Steve, an orange American shorthair and Abyssinian mix named after Stevie Nicks, lounges in the shade.

“I call ’em our hot girl walks,” Nill said, pushing Lana and Steve in their stroller around the Silver Lake Reservoir. The sunset-hour routine helps relax her when she feels anxious. “Most nights, it’s just [Lana] and I.”

Meanwhile, Beachwood Canyon residents David Atrakchi and Sophie Meister, both actors and producers in the film industry, take their Bengal cat, Taita, for hikes near the Hollywood Reservoir, Bronson Canyon and even Joshua Tree. Taita prances along rock walls and rolls in the dirt, meowing with his tail held high.

“When he has his tail up, he’s happy,” Atrakchi said on a recent hike overlooking the reservoir.

The practice comes with benefits and risks. Dr. Kate Blair, a feline veterinarian at the Cat Hospital in Marina Del Rey, said it comes down to knowing your cat.

“For the right cat, I think it’s a great thing. That’s the key, is, not every cat will enjoy spending time outdoors on a walk,” Blair said. Confident, curious cats may do well, but cats who like predictable environments may be fearful. “It’s not something to force by any means.”

David Atrakchi and Sophie Meister walk their 3-year-old Bengal cat Taita on a trail near Hollywood Reservoir.

Mental enrichment is the biggest health benefit “by far,” Blair said. Under-stimulated cats may have an increased risk of obesity and urinary problems, and the ability to explore the sounds, scents and textures of the outdoors is one way to provide that enrichment.

There’s also a small exercise benefit, but remember: You aren’t walking a dog, Blair said.

“A very successful cat walk can be five minutes,” Blair said. “They go outside, they smell a bush, they look at some birds, they get to make a few choices on their own. You’re following their lead, and then you go back home.”

That’s what a walk looks like with Freedman and Smithers’ cat, Zephyr: a short, leisurely stroll up their street, with plenty of pauses for Zephyr to rest on the sidewalk or scratch a tree.

“Are you ready to go back?” Freedman said on a recent evening, noticing Zephyr had turned around. “All right, well, he’s ready to go back.”

Rescues in L.A. tend to discourage cat walking, said Gwendolyn Mathers, the executive director at Pasadena’s Tail Town Cats, a cat cafe and adoption center that partners with Kitten Rescue Los Angeles, one of L.A.’s largest shelters. Tail Town Cats doesn’t exclude adopters who consider walking their cats. However, they advise caution due to the many uncontrollable factors that could spook a cat outdoors like cars, dogs and wildlife.

“That’s what this is all about,” Mathers said. “What do you have control over?”

If a cat panics, Mathers said, anything could happen, including losing the pet.

“Anyone who has wrangled a scared cat knows it’s not just like picking up a dog and holding them,” Mathers said. “They are clawing you to get away because, to them, that is a life-and-death situation.”

Luke described a similar experience during one of her earliest walks with Gnocchi. While holding Gnocchi, a large street cleaning truck whipped down the street and startled him into clawing away.

“He never claws me,” Luke said. “I held him as hard as I could, and he went … he just was gone like a flash.”

Luke found him in a neighbor’s driveway. Afterward, she ensured Gnocchi always left the house with a collar in addition to the harness.

Allison Nill walks her two cats Lana and Steve (not shown) around the Silver Lake Reservoir.

Other cat walkers take precautions too. When Atrakchi and Meister hike with Taita, they carry a sturdy, mesh backpack in case Taita gets tired or nervous around dogs. Gnocchi is on a flea prevention plan, Zephyr wears an air tag and Nill’s pram gives Lana and Steve a safe enclosure.

Nill, a digital creator and actor, got her first pet stroller in a brand deal about a year ago. After one walk, Lana was hooked. She would climb into the basket on her own, meowing, purring and rolling on her back. Steve isn’t as consistently interested in the ride as Lana, but if he makes his way to the stroller, Nill takes him along too.

Her other two cats ride along less regularly. Vinny, short for Vincent van Gogh, gets nervous and prefers shorter, quieter walks, and Macaroni, named after Fleetwood Mac, makes the stroller a tight squeeze for two cats. If a friend joins Nill for the walk, the extra hands help her take them all out in two strollers.

Even in a stroller instead of a harness, people are just as surprised to see her cats out and about.

Allison Nill pets her cat Lana during a walk around the Silver Lake Reservoir.

“ I’ve had people be like, ‘Oh my God, how old?’ And I’m like, ‘Uh, like, 5 and a year and a half,’” Nill said. “Then they look inside. They’re like, ‘What the heck, that’s a cat.’”

The routine doubles as exercise for Nill and enrichment for the cats, she said: “Kill two birds with one stone.”

“ They get to smell the reservoir and all the trees, and it’s close to home,” Nill said. “ I can just walk out my door, do an hour loop and then that’s the perfect amount of time for them.”

If you’re considering walking your cat, many who’ve done it offered the same tips: Start slow, don’t force anything and follow your cat’s lead.

“We started outside our building, by the pool, by the gardens, then in the street, and then we went to here, on different hikes,” Atrakchi said. Every hike is at Taita’s pace: “Very slow,” Meister said.

Be prepared: If you take your cat outdoors, they may expect it regularly. “It’s like Pandora’s box,” Atrakchi said. “Once you open it, you have to continue doing it, because they will want to go out.”

Sophie Meister carries 3-year-old Bengal cat Taita in a backpack while hiking a trail near Hollywood Reservoir.

To do so safely, Blair suggested collaring and keeping cats close on a well-fitted harness. Also, avoid walking at dawn and dusk, when coyotes are active. Beware of lilies, which are toxic to cats; even chewing the leaves or licking pollen off their fur while grooming can be fatal. And talk to your veterinarian about a parasite prevention plan to combat fleas and other pests.

Cats “can have a very happy, healthy life without ever going for a walk outdoors,” Blair said. There are other ways to provide enrichment, like rotating toys every day to stimulate exploration, using puzzle feeder dishes to satisfy hunting behaviors and playing videos for your cat showing birds or fish. (Just make sure they don’t try to catch them.)

But cat walking seems to enrich owners’ lives too.

“It gives you a different perspective on your block,” Freedman said. “With Zephyr, it’s like you can really appreciate all the little things, because he is interested in every leaf, and every stick, and every bug. It’s like a moment of zen.”

“A moment of Zeph,” Smithers agreed.

Lifestyle

In ‘Dreams in Nightmares’, we learn what drives us : It’s Been a Minute

Published

18 hours ago

September 8, 2026

Press Room

In ‘Dreams in Nightmares’, we learn what drives us : It’s Been a Minute

What would it look like to have all of your needs met?

That’s the question filmmaker Shatara Michelle Ford’s asks in their film, Dreams in Nightmares. As three Black queer friends take to the road to search for the fourth member of their group, they navigate the ups and downs of love, identity, and what it means to truly feel seen.

Shatara joins the show to break down how Dreams in Nightmares went from an idea about the Wim Wenders film Paris, Texas to a journey of self-discovery.

Support public media with NPR+ and enjoy perks for over 25 podcasts like this one. This show’s perks include sponsor-free listening. Learn more at plus.npr.org.

This episode was produced by Alexis Williams. It was edited by Neena Pathak. Engineering support came from David Greenburg. Our Supervising Producer is Cher Vincent. Our Executive Producer is Barton Girdwood. Our VP of Programming is Yolanda Sangweni.