Baxter State Park is a busy place as the fall hiking season draws to a close. The energy in the park is invariably buzzing: families are getting in their last trips before school, leaf-peepers are making the pilgrimage to see the changing foliage, and Appalachian Trail thru-hikers are making their way to the summit of Katahdin. For years, restrictions around the AT’s northern terminus have caused the park to gain notoriety among thru-hikers. For some long-distance hikers bringing their journeys to a close, navigating the park’s crowds and camping reservation system can feel uninviting at best, and like a downright stressful end to the trip of a lifetime at worst.
In 2015, tensions between thru-hikers and park administration came to a head when ultrarunner Scott Jurek set a speed record on the AT and celebrated with his team with a bottle of champagne on the summit of Katahdin. Officials later ticketed him for consumption of alcohol inside the park, hiking with a group larger than 12, and littering (spraying champagne in the air). The incident kicked off a debate about the commercialization of the outdoors and the park’s relationship with AT hikers.
A few weeks later, I made my way to the northern terminus feeling anxious about completing my own thru-hike. Word on the trail was that the rangers were mad at the example Jurek had set for other long-distance hikers, and that they were strictly enforcing rules to fight back. At that time, Katahdin already had the reputation of being a logistical challenge for long-distance backpackers: standard campsites fill up months in advance, and the park has just one 12-person walkup shelter reserved for thru-hikers. As rangers were up in arms about the regulations, thru-hikers like myself felt entitled after traveling 2,200 miles to make it to Katahdin, and might’ve even considered breaking the park’s rules if the camping reservation process proved difficult to follow.
The scene I found upon my arrival was nothing like my nightmares. The Birches shelter, where thru-hikers can camp, was far from full. And it was actually really easy to follow the rules: My trail partner and I picked up permits for Katahdin before waking at 3 a.m. for a sunrise summit. At the time, my anxieties about finishing my hike at the northern terminus left me wondering how we got here—and even whether there might be a place better-suited to handling the AT’s growing crowds. Katahdin could live without thru-hikers, but could thru-hikers live without Katahdin?
While Baxter State Park itself is home to hundreds of miles of trails, it’s best known for Mt. Katahdin, which sees the majority of traffic within the region. The park faces a unique challenge in that it’s not only the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, but it’s also held in a trust with very specific guidelines surrounding its management. The park’s former owner, Percival P. Baxter, released it for public use in 1931 under an endowment that required limiting vehicle size and the number of campsites within the park. As a result, officials are not allowed to develop new campsites even as the park becomes more popular.
Leah Beck, the Maine Regional Manager for the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC), told me that in 2015, officials realized they needed to come up with a plan to balance thru-hikers’ and visitors’ needs with park regulations. While 2015 was the most notable example of the strain between hikers and rangers in the park’s history, every year, a few hikers set a poor example in Baxter State Park by doing things like “stealth camping” in undesignated areas and otherwise ignoring the rules.
One of the ways that officials have monitored unruly hikers is by crowdsourcing information both in Maine and south of the region. Baxter State Park, Search and Rescue members, and the Appalachian Trail Conservancy regularly work together to create awareness about big groups of hikers or known rebels who are headed to Katahdin. Since a monthly meeting was established to address these issues, “we hear very few reports of any summit behavior issues,” said Beck.
In addition to regularly discussing community and hiker concerns in the region, an ATC ranger is stationed at Abol Bridge—the gateway into Baxter State Park—to assist hikers looking to find camping. It’s often easier than many thru-hikers imagine, since the thru-hiker shelter seldom fills up. When it does, rangers help hikers find other legal camping options in or near the park
“It’s actually less common than people think for the Birches to be full and for them not to have additional sites at Katahdin Stream or another campground,” said Beck.
Baxter State Park Ranger Bruce White told me that nearly 3,000 thru-hikers came through the park in 2022 compared to about 2,000 in 2015. Yet the park’s rules and regulations remain largely the same.
“As far as restrictions, there really aren’t a whole lot other than we do require them to be in designated campsites,” he said. “….But I think there’s a little animosity. People feel that they won’t get a site in Baxter Park. And in August that is a possibility.”
Occasionally, the park receives really big groups of thru-hikers, which causes another technical strain on the trail since group sizes are limited to 12 people within the park. Adhering to this regulation forces officials and hikers to collaborate to ensure that the park remains within its legal trust limits.
White added that since 2015, the nearby town of Monson has also made it much easier for hikers to shuttle to and from the park, with several privately-owned businesses like Shaw’s Hiker Hostel offering rides to reduce the stress of finding a camp spot in park bounds. Still, since Baxter State Park cannot legally change campsites and permits issued to accommodate growing traffic, if hiker numbers keep growing, there will come a point when it will have to turn people away with more regularity.
Interestingly, Katahdin wasn’t always the end point of the AT. When the idea of the Appalachian Trail was born, according to Beck, the original maps Benton MacKaye drew designated Mt. Washington as the northern terminus, with potential extensions or “branch trails.” One of those branches became the 330-mile route between Mt. Washington and Katahdin that hikers tackle today. It wasn’t until four years after that early map that Katahdin was labeled as the northern terminus, and the designation became official in 1928. As of 2024, Mt. Washington is the only northern terminus aside from Katahdin to ever formally be considered.
A benefit of considering an alternate terminus is that there may be fewer camping and summiting restrictions in place, which could alleviate some of the stress of finishing the trail. The ATC suggests that moving the northern terminus to a location with fewer legal limitations could resolve some of the camping and usage issues of Baxter State Park, but wouldn’t solve problems related to hiker behavior.
“Moving the terminus to an area with different management mandates will likely have no impact on the behavior of the very small percentage of AT hikers causing the problem,” said Beck. “There could be fewer restrictions for them to bump up against, depending on where the terminus moves, but the problem behavior will still exist.”
Despite recognizing some of the benefits of an alternative northern terminus, neither the ATC nor Baxter State Park currently has plans in place to advocate for such a monumental change. Doing so would involve obtaining trail rights in areas where they don’t already exist, and working with private landowners to acquire access in non-public areas.
Thru-hikers’ anxieties remain high during peak season and in October, when the park seasonally closes Mt. Katahdin to hiker traffic. Even in optimal conditions, climbing Katahdin involves light bouldering, lugging yourself up iron rungs, and tackling extremely steep terrain. When winter comes, those conditions are generally considered to be unsafe for hikers by Baxter State Park.
Even if authorities decide that a change as drastic as moving the terminus is eventually necessary, that point would be years away at least. The number of hikers on the AT has held steady or even dropped since Covid, suggesting that nothing needs to change yet. But growing interest in one of America’s most beautiful and difficult trails could flip the narrative.
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