Carl “Professor” Stanfield on the Other Side of Thru-Hiking: A Summer Dream Job at an AT Hostel

Hiker hostels are one of the great treasures of America’s long trails. The colorful characters and buildings that make up hostel culture can seem intimidating at first, but it usually doesn’t take long for hikers to open themselves up to all that these welcoming establishments have to offer.

As an avid thru-hiker myself, I’d always wondered what the other side of this familiar relationship might be like: to serve as a host, rather than the guest always passing through. After a full season working at a hostel in Millinocket, Maine, the hub of the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, I’m now pleased to be able to share.

My Mission in Life: To Become an Expert on All Things Thru-Hiking

I have been a part of the thru-hiking community for nearly seven years now, dating back to my first exciting steps as an AT thru-hiker in April of 2018. I’ve since backpacked over 16,000 miles, including two full thrus of the AT in 2018 and 2022.

To say that I am in love with the trail and its community is a neglectful understatement. I live for it — and my passion has only grown over the years. I plan to continue to spend my life experiencing and learning about the trail for as long as I can carry a pack.

A trail sign right next to our food drop meetup spot.

My mission in life is to become an expert on all things thru-hiking. I’ve put in my miles on the trails over the years, and in spring of 2024 I was feeling it was high time that I continue my experiential education on other facets of my passion.

My partner and I were thru-hiking the Arizona Trail in early 2024 and enjoying a plethora of memorable stays with trail angels along the way. We were in the throes of some setbacks with upcoming jobs and were discussing our options while also vocalizing our appreciation of trail angels. “What would it be like to live as such a devoted trail angel?” we wondered. That speculation quickly evolved: “We should look into working at a hostel.”

The seed was planted. I reached out to a few hostel owners I knew on the AT.

The AT Hostel and Outfitters

I first heard back from my friend Trash Panda, whom I’d met while staying at his hostel, the AT Hostel and Outfitters, at the end of my most recent AT hike. He and his partner/co-owner, Loins of Arabia, had been particularly helpful when I came through extra early in the season, so I felt comfortable reaching out. Two months later, my Prius was stuffed and I was driving up to one of the last incorporated areas in northern Maine.

Formerly “The AT Lodge,” TP and Loins purchased and rebranded the hostel just a few years ago from Old Man and Navigator. Tucked away in a tiny old paper mill town, this early-20th-century converted boarding house has as much character as any eager hiker could reasonably hope for.

Aside from my positive interactions with TP, the factor that really intrigued me about working at this hostel in particular was its location. I’d always thought it would be most fulfilling to work at a hostel in a terminus town. While I still have no other experience to compare, I will say that I had an absolute ball at this place.

The Outfitters with a couple coworkers, Tory and The New Guy!

The AT’s Northern Hub

Contrary to literally the entire rest of the trail, the northern 115 miles of the AT is rather remote. From the town of Millinocket, this area (from Monson and the southern end of the Hundred Mile Wilderness to the summit of Katahdin and Baxter State Park) was all within serviceable range.

The drive down to Monson from Millinocket takes about an hour and a half. A drive into the Hundred Mile Wilderness is at least an hour, and in places two. The place the hostel services the most is Baxter State Park, where the AT ends. Despite being the closest town to the park, it’s still a full hour’s drive from the hostel to reach Baxter. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in a car last summer.

The excitement of working at a remote trail hub like that was really something else. Most guests at the hostel were either on the precipice of beginning their thru-hikes or sitting stinkily on cloud nine after their completions. There were a decent number of flip-floppers, either escaping the oppressive southern heat or racing the clock, but even those folks were typically stoked at the change of scenery in northern Maine.

Millinocket is relatively small, even by AT trail town standards, but it has the essentials. The hostel itself is the lone outfitter in town, making it the place to grab fuel, peruse a hiker box, and pick up any last-minute or forgotten gear. 

From the hostel, there are two small convenience stores maybe a quarter mile away. Directly across the street is the nearest restaurant, with a pizza place and a saloon just a couple doors down. There’s even a top-notch greasy thematic diner, the AT Cafe, at the end of the tiny downtown strip. And for hikers willing to walk a mile or catch a ride, there’s a grocery store, a McDonald’s, and a brand new Dunkin’ Donuts at the edge of town. For a hub so small, Millinocket really does alright by hikers. 

The only photo I ended up snapping of my summer home was the one I sent to my girlfriend as I was pulling up to move in.

Hostel Work: A Day in the Life

As far as I can tell, this is one of the tightest run, most official hostels a hiker can expect to find on the AT. There’s no Meatwad hanging around ready to drive you up to Katahdin whenever you feel like it: the AT Hostel is a tightly run ship. Including the two owners (who work pretty much every single day of the season), we had anywhere from 5 – 8 folks around to help make everything run.

The hostel has two vehicles that are responsible for all guest transportation needs. This includes picking up and dropping off hikers at the bus stop 20 minutes away, picking up and dropping off hikers at Katahdin each morning and afternoon, a daily food drop in the middle of the Hundred Mile Wilderness, and various other predetermined shuttles in the area. Those poor vehicles have a hell of a summer, every summer.

I had the pleasure of shuttling a couple of my favorite AT Trail Angels, Natalie and John!

There is also, of course, a veritable shitload of cleaning. The hostel boasts beds for around 40 people. The bunkhouse has 18 beds, the private side has six rooms that each sleep two, there are two family suites that each sleep four to six, and people can even rent out and sleep in THE Hiker Yearbook Bus, which was given to the hostel by none other than good old Odie himself.

Every single one of those beds has linens, and every hiker has access to towels and town clothes. Add to that laundry list daily (HIKER!) bathroom cleanings, kitchen cleanings, sweeping, and vacuuming, with monthly deep cleans thrown in, too. The time needed to pull off that part of operations speaks for itself as loud as a van full of newly minted thru-hikers on summit day.

The iconic Hiker Yearbook bus, in its new permanent position by the AT Hostel & Outfitters.

SOBO Workshops

Finally, my favorite part of the job was something called the SOBO workshop. NOBO hikers who register at Amicalola Falls at the beginning of their trips are required to attend a quick presentation on thru-hiking. This covers fundamentals like hanging a bear bag, Leave No Trace basics, and a strong encouragement to hike no more than eight miles a day for the first week.

Despite the vast difference in difficulty that comes with beginning a SOBO thru-hike, nothing official like this exists at the northern terminus. There is an ATC center in Monson, but that means SOBOs must first hike Katahdin and the Hundred Mile Wilderness before being able to even get their hang tags.

Fortunately, Trash Panda is the man and has an entire curriculum developed to bring anxious new hikers up to speed. The logistics at the northern end of the trail are vastly more complex than the entirety of the southern 2,080 miles. Baxter State Park is not particularly intuitive to enter or exit, and a 115-mile food carry isn’t exactly standard on the AT. 

So, any SOBO staying at the hostel has access to this extremely handy workshop that ~walks~ hikers through what to expect along their hike and how to manage it as best they can. After an hour or two (sometimes I’d get long winded here), we’d take a break and then ask a volunteer for a pack shakedown. As the most experienced hiker on seasonal staff, I got to take the reins of this endeavor any time TP was busy with other work (which was very often). Though both are essential to the success of the hostel, I cannot understate how much more fulfilling this seminar was than folding 40 fitted sheets by lunch time. 

Fulfillment

I genuinely feel that this was my favorite four months of work I’ve ever spent. Even though I gripe about the cleaning, it felt good to be doing manual labor for hikers, especially since most of them are pretty vocally appreciative. Beyond that, most everything felt meaningful and deeply connected to the community most of the time.

I’ve spoken to the enjoyment of teaching, but the shuttles were pretty sweet for the most part, too. While forced small talk isn’t always my favorite, it usually never came to that on those long drives. Section and thru-hikers exploring Maine are generally interesting people, and it’s not hard to bring it out of them. So much of my driving folks around northern Maine was asking about their hikes, and hikers LOVE talking about their hikes. I always love talking trail, and getting to chat with so many hikers made me feel involved with the community without being an active thru-hiker myself.

It doesn’t take long to feel how small the hiker community is, and after seven years, I feel like there’s only a single degree of separation between myself and pretty much any other thru-hiker. I’ve met a ton of hikers who have met a ton of hikers. And in particular, I’ve met a ton of hikers that are still out hiking, which meant I got to be a part of the journey for a healthy number of hikers I’ve met or at least have mutual friends with. It was a sweet feeling just being on the other side of things for a season.

I’d occasionally run into hikers I knew while doing drop offs in the Hundred Mile Wilderness, like my friends Meatball and Sunrise!

Life in a Tiny Town in Big Maine

In addition to the fulfillment I got from working, I had the pleasure of bopping around a cute little town in a big, exciting state for the summer. My favorite perk of the job was extremely cheap housing in town away from the hostel. For just $200/month, I had my own room in a shared unit directly above the aforementioned AT Cafe. I’d wake up to the smell of fried potatoes and onions and walk up the street four minutes to my dream job. It was simple and exhilarating. 

My digs on move in day!

This was a joy I got to share with my coworkers, who, as could be expected, also love the trail and being in Maine. Trash Panda and Loins were wonderful to work for, and used what little off time they had to get us all together for some community bonding: movie nights, group dinners, game nights, everything you could hope for in a little community like that.

When Millinocket started to feel a little small, a 75-minute drive would get me down to Bangor, a “big” Maine city with access to anything I couldn’t find further north. I even became a frequent visitor of one of the city’s gaming stores to fuel my new Magic the Gathering addiction and scratch my gaming itch.

And of course, being so near such a wild part of the country, I had access to all the beautiful hiking I could ever hope for while still being rooted. On long weekends, I pieced together the Hundred Mile Wilderness. I climbed Katahdin a couple times. I got a season pass into Baxter and explored other parts of that massive park. Several of us from the hostel even frequented one of the park’s countless lakes to escape the heat when we could.

The iconic Antlers Campsite in the Hundred Mile Wilderness.

Reflection

Being part of the thru-hiker community is an incredible blessing, no matter what side of it you experience it from. Unsurprisingly, my summer in Maine only reinforced that notion. I love being a hiker, and I love getting to help hikers. An individual’s chosen voyage through the mountains is a beautiful, sacred experience, and any person who allows themselves to be involved in any capacity can truly take something powerful and touching from it.

So of course, I’ll be back for summer of 2025. See y’all there!

I got to meet my buddy Quadzilla in the midst of his thru-hike. We became friends during our 2022 CYTC hikes over text, but didn’t meet in person until hostel season.