In January 2024, Nashville attorney David Cooper decided to hike the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. Well, more accurately, his son Sam offhandedly announced that he would be hiking the AT (as it’s commonly known) in 2025 and David asked if he could come along. What follows is a conversation between David and Tennessee Bar Journal Editor Julia Canada Wilburn about the trip of a lifetime and what it really means to make space for your own well-being and mental health.

David charted his miles in literal milestones, hitting 500 in Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia.

What made you decide to take on this challenge? Because hiking the AT isn’t a small goal.

I’m not exactly sure when I first considered hiking the Appalachian Trail. During my junior year of college at Middle Tennessee State University (MTSU), I read Peter Jenkins’ book A Walk Across America. I was fascinated that someone could walk across the country, not to mention that he did it with a dog that had my last name and even stopped for an extended visit at “The Farm” in Summertown. Then I heard a story about a couple of guys from school who were going to hike the AT, and I thought, “Could I someday do that? Hike the entire AT? Could the dream ever become a reality?”

Fast forward to January 2024, and my son Sam casually mentions to my wife Carolyn and me, “Next year I’m going to hike the Appalachian Trail.” Just like that, all the thoughts of hiking the AT came rushing back.

I called Sam the next day:

“Man, are you really going to thru-hike the AT next year?”

“Yep,” he replied.

“Can I go with you?”

“Sure,” he said. “I was hoping you would want to come along.”

And with that simple phone call, my 2025 journey on the AT moved from a dream to a reality.

So you just … went? Just like that? Hey, don’t you have a law practice?!

(Laughs) Well, we had about 14 months to prepare. I have a solo practice in Nashville where my focus has been on personal injury, worker’s compensation, employment discrimination — at both the state and federal level — and both civil and criminal defense. So for about a year, I worked to wrap up cases that could be closed or postponed and prepared to essentially shut down my practice for six months while we hiked. I didn’t take any new clients in that year and I recruited a couple of colleagues to cover anything that might pop up that couldn’t wait.

View from the Mahoosuc Arm in Maine.

What’s the training like for the AT?

There’s really no “one size fits all.” We met some people on the trail who just decided to hike it with no preparation. Personally, I’ve been running since I was in college and have done several marathons over the years, so I felt like I was in good shape with cardio. My therapy, my way to decompress, is running.

Map of the Appalachian Trail, courtesy of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy

Take us along on your journey.

We started our AT on March 16, 2025.

Springer Mountain, Georgia is the southern terminus of the AT. When Earl Shaffer reported to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) in the summer of 1948 that he was hiking the AT from end to end, the trail began at Mt. Oglethorpe, Georgia. The trail was shorter then, consisting of 2,050 miles to the summit of Mt. Katahdin in Maine. The same was true for Emma “Grandma” Gatewood, a 67-year-old grandmother from Ohio, who became the first woman to successfully complete a thru hike of the AT in 1955.

Our goal was to walk the AT in the traditional way of Shaffer and Gatewood — south to north in one season. In the trail vernacular we were NOBOs — Northbound.

The AT runs 79 miles from Springer Mountain to the North Carolina border, then along the North Carolina and Tennessee border for 160 miles, with about 70 miles in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We walked through Hot Springs, North Carolina since the trail runs down the center of town and stayed in a local hostel that was visited by Earl Shaffer as he hiked the AT in 1948.

Five hundred fifty miles of the trail are through Virginia, and the first town is Damascus, known as “Trail Town USA.” Just like Hot Springs, the AT goes right down the center of Damascus. The iconic white blazes are painted on the sidewalks and street poles.

We planned to take a full day off (a “Zero Day”) in Damascus.

After a short pause for Sam to recover from a Norovirus, we left Virginia on May 31 and walked into Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, the mythical half-way point of the AT.

We walked across West Virginia (24 miles) and Maryland (41 miles). Pennsylvania was squarely in our sights as we began the 230-mile hike across the state to reach Delaware Water Gap on the Delaware River.

While Harper’s Ferry is the spiritual halfway point of the AT, the actual halfway point is just south of the Ironmasters Mansion at Pine Grove Furnace State Park in Pennsylvania. We stayed in the basement of a local Presbyterian Church in the Delaware Water Gap before crossing the Delaware River into New Jersey. Here, I met a lawyer from Bern, Switzerland, and we spent part of the evening discussing the differences in U.S. and Swiss laws.

There are 72 miles of the AT in New Jersey. As we crossed into Jersey, we hit the 1,300-mile mark. At the Mohican Center, we swam in a lake made famous in a scene by Jason from the movie Friday the 13th.

All along the trail, we’d seen signs of bears, but never the actual animal. That changed as we neared the Connecticut state line. We heard rumblings in the bushes and there stood a large female black bear and her two cubs. The cubs immediately scurried up a dead pine tree like squirrels. The mama bear continued to eyeball us as if to say, “Keep moving down the trail, boys!” We did.

On July 3, we walked into Connecticut, where we learned there is much debate amongst New Englanders on whether Connecticut is actually a part of New England as we made our way to the town of Kent, home of the late Henry Kissinger.

We checked into a local motel but quickly learned there was no laundry service. Since the room had two trash cans and we had camp soap, we washed our clothes in the room. While maybe not Tide clean, it certainly helped with the dirt and smell!

Onward 20 miles from Kent to Salisbury near the Massachusetts border. While there are 51 miles of the AT in Connecticut, Massachusetts commands 90 miles as the AT hugs the western edge of the state and a mountain range known as The Berkshires. The highest point in Massachusetts is Mt. Greylock at 3,487 feet, and in true AT fashion, the trail planners took us right over the top before leaving the state.

There are red states and blue states; Vermont is a green state. From the minute we entered Vermont after crossing from Massachusetts we were in a perpetual canopy of green because of the pine and spruce trees.

We crossed over the Connecticut River and walked into Hanover, New Hampshire, home to Dartmouth College, the inspiration for the 1978 classic film “Animal House.” At this point we had walked almost 1,800 miles. I was reminded of the Kansas song “Point of Know Return,” and knew there was no turning back.

The first 60 miles of the AT in New Hampshire is rather uneventful in terms of flat terrain and a trail of minimal rocks, but the last 100 miles really test whether you can make it to Maine.

For AT thru-hikers (hikers who complete the AT in 12 months or less), the White Mountains can best be divided into four parts: Mt. Moosilauke, the Franconia Ridge, the Presidential Range and the Mahoosuc Range. Each has its own set of challenges, yet splendid beauty. The test is the large number of 4,000-foot mountains. From Georgia to Virginia, mountains can be hiked on switchbacks up and down the mountains. The AT trail planners in New Hampshire never discovered the concept of switchbacks, with most mountain trails following a path straight up and straight down!

We made it to the top of 4,802-foot Mt. Moosilauke on July 25; the weather was terrible, and the visibility was even worse. Wind gusts were 40-50 miles an hour.

Over the course of two days we hiked the Franconia Ridge, which included South Kinsman Peak (4,358’), North Kinsman Peak (4.293’), Little Haystack Mountain (4,760’), Mt. Lincoln (5,089’), Mt. Lafayette (5,260’), Mt. Garfield (4,500’) and Mt. Guyot (4,580’). The terrain was particularly treacherous, with a lot of bolder scrambling, especially on the descents.

On July 29 we entered Crawford Notch State Park, which encompasses the Presidential Range. Included is Mt. Washington, the highest peak in the Northeast and home to some of the most extreme weather on earth. On April 12, 1934, the highest wind speed ever recorded at a staffed weather station occurred on Mt. Washington, which registered 231 miles per hour. The mountain can experience snow and cold weather almost any time of the year. A Florida man went missing in July while hiking on Mt. Washington, and his body was recovered two days later. The mountain was not to be taken lightly.

On July 31, we started out on a two-hour hike up Mt. Washington. While the wind was around 20-30 miles an hour, the visibility was less than 50 feet. There is a visitor center at the top of Mt. Washington which we took advantage of, feasting on pizza and hot dogs from the concession stand. On the wall of the visitor center is a plaque of persons who have died on the mountain. More people have died on it than on Mt. Everest! We still had two other mountains left to climb, Mt. Jefferson and Mt. Adams, to get to our stop for that evening.

To say the rocks on Mt. Jefferson are gigantic does not nearly describe them. They are the size of washing machines and refrigerators stacked on top of one another. There is no trail; you are “rock hopping” from one boulder to another. On Mt. Jefferson I realized boulder scrambling and rock hopping wasn’t for me. I fell three times, with the third time wedging me on my back so securely I simply couldn’t get up. Sam unhooked my backpack to release me so I could stand up. It was not a good day.

After a rest from conquering Mt. Washington, we had one more mountain to climb: Mt. Madison at 5,367 feet. The climb was steep, but the descent was even steeper.

On August 5 we entered Maine near the Mahoosuc Notch, which is considered the most difficult mile of the entire AT.

We had a self-imposed deadline of August 15 to finish the AT and return home because Sam was scheduled to get married on August 28. A finish date of August 15 would leave us just enough time to return home.

On August 10 we left the trail on Highway 4 near Rangeley, Maine; we returned to Portland on September 8 to resume the hike.

David and Sam make it to the summit of Mt. Katahdin, marking the end of their journey

What was it like going back? You knew what you were getting into, but you still did it.

I was excited to keep going but the closer we got to our return date, the less excited I was. I knew how tough Maine would be and I had some regret about going back, but we were too close not to finish it.

We walked into Monson, Maine on September 18. Monson is the last town stop before the 100 Mile Wilderness area. On Thursday, September 25, we reached Abol Bridge. We decided that instead of waiting until Saturday to summit Mt. Katahdin, we would strike out for a camp site at Baxter State Park and hike to the summit on Saturday. It rained hard all Friday night and into the early morning hours, but by daylight the rain was tapering off, or at least we thought so.

The wind was blowing hard, but it seemed manageable to continue the hike toward the summit. As we reached the tree line, the wind increased to 40-50 miles per hour, yet we still had two and a half miles to go including boulder scrambling over wet rocks. Sam looked at me and shouted in the hollowing wind,

“Dad, I don’t think we can do the summit today.”

“What? I’m not coming back up here,” I said.

“We can’t go up today, it’s not safe.” He then looked at me and said, “Do you disagree?”

“No, I guess not.”

So much for fatherly wisdom.

We hitched a ride from the state park to a local hostel in Millinocket. After considering the weather and talking with a few locals, it seemed our window to summit Katahdin would be Sunday, September 28. We again reached the tree line, but this time the wind had subsided, although visibility was not good. “I think we can make it this time,” Sam said. I smiled and agreed, today would be the day. We scrambled over large boulders, at times using the metal bars drilled into the rocks for added support. The clouds still had the mountain wrapped in a white blanket, but at least the wind was not blowing sideways. There is a section called Tableland, which is relatively flat leading to the summit. As Sam walked ahead of me, I thanked God for getting us safely to Mt. Katahdin and free of any major injuries as we reached the summit. At that point, the clouds began to dissipate, and we could see blue skies.

On September 28, 2025, we reached the summit of Katahdin. It is estimated that it takes 5 million steps to thru hike the AT. We had walked 2,198 miles from Springer Mountain, Georgia.

Overlook at McAfee Knob on Catawba Mountain, near Roanoke, Virginia.

How did the experience change your perspective about practicing law?

I started off with the idea that this would help define what I wanted to do with the rest of my career. Did I want to finish my cases and retire outright? Did I want to crank it up like I’d done in the past? Or did I want to try to find a middle ground? Hiking the AT made me see that the third option was the right one. At times I wanted to go back to practicing law because it was a hell of a lot easier that hiking that trail! I felt like I couldn’t give up on the trail and I couldn’t completely give up practicing law.

Did you work at all while on the trail?

For the most part, I checked out for six months. There were a couple of cases I was in phone contact with when we had cell service. I actually settled one case on top of Mt. Killington in Vermont!

At the summit of Saddleback Mountain.

Did you miss your practice?

The thing I missed the most was talking to other lawyers and people on the phone. I did not miss the emails. When we had cell coverage, I’d usually take a few minutes to delete emails.

One attorney friend filed a motion for a continuance in a case while I was gone, including this note: “Lead counsel, David Cooper, is currently indisposed hiking the Appalachian Trail. While one may question the sanity of an older gentleman taking on such a feat, I am happy to report that he is three quarters of the way to completion, and he is still alive, contrary to what a recent photograph may suggest.” As I recall, I was walking from New York into Connecticut at that point and I was looking a bit haggard.

We talk a lot about attorney well-being and the importance of taking care of our mental health. Has your perspective on that changed now that you’re finished with the AT?

The hike taught me the importance of stepping away and giving my brain some time to rest. I’ve been practicing law for over 40 years, and I was rejuvenated by checking out for a five- or six-month break. I know that kind of break is not for everyone and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it work since I don’t have a law partner. But I was able to clear my head in so many ways. When we’re working, we’re so focused on things we think are important — emails, deadlines — and they are to an extent. On the AT, your primary focuses are such simple things: What/where will I eat? Will I sleep tonight in a dry spot? Having this kind of career, it was freeing to simplify my life for a while and carry everything that was a necessity on my back.

The trail itself is almost evil, wicked. In Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the AT is fairly well-groomed. The rest is rocky, root-y and rugged. It’s full of sharp jagged rocks that were brought down by a glacier a million years ago. The landscape changes so much and you’re literally climbing over boulders towards the end. In New Hampshire and Maine, I fell probably an average of once a day. It hurt, but my pride was hurt more.

It’s punishing, almost something that you just have to survive, but the people we met along the way and the whole experience far outweigh the brutality of the trail and made the whole thing worthwhile. You can’t conquer the AT, you can only compromise with it.

It really was the adventure of a lifetime. |||

Editor’s Note: According to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, the non-profit that has managed the trail since 1925, the AT is the longest hiking-only footpath in the world. The trail is 2,197.9 miles long, passing through 14 states. This distance typically changes slightly each year due to footpath relocations and more precise measurement techniques. The total elevation gain of hiking the entire AT is equivalent to climbing Mt. Everest 16 times. One in four who attempt a thru-hike (completing the entire trail in 12 months or less) successfully completes the journey, so David and Sam are beating the odds!

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TBA Has Resources Focused on Attorney Well-Being and Mental Health

The Tennessee Bar Association’s (TBA) Attorney Well Being Committee works to enhance the understanding of issues associated with attorney well-being through education and other awareness activities. The committee has developed a page of resources to help lawyers, legal employers and law students educate themselves about wellness issues and encourage those who are facing difficult situations to reach out for help. Many of this committee’s programs and CLEs focus on mindfulness and meditation, encouraging attorneys to integrate these practices into their daily routines.

The TBA Young Lawyers Division’s (YLD) Health and Wellness Coordinator has focused on the value of stepping away from work to recharge. The YLD has produced a series of CLE events entitled “Exploration,” which take place at state parks across Tennessee. After a CLE session, attendees take a park ranger-guided hike. The goal of these programs is for attorneys to be able to unwind in nature and return to their practice with fresh perspectives. Visit www.tba.org/attorney_wellness for more resources and information.