The trail

Review by Booklist Review

Instead of hiking the Appalachian Trail with his best friend Lucas, 12-year-old Toby is hiking it all alone, without his Gran knowing where he is. Along the way, Toby befriends a starving stray dog, almost runs out of food, and is caught in a storm that leaves him shivering from the cold. Luckily, he's rescued by two older teens, easygoing Denver and scowling Sean. Toby's belief that he's bad luck is reinforced by all the trials he experiences: he encounters wild animals, withstands extreme weather conditions, and witnesses the best and worst of human nature. When Toby finds himself in a life-threatening situation with Denver and Sean, he learns that he can be self-reliant and a leader instead of a follower. Readers will be drawn into Toby's exciting journey and empathize with him as he learns an important lesson about forgiving yourself and determining what's important in life and then fighting for it.--Rawlins, Sharon Copyright 2017 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-7-Hiking the Appalachian Trail is not for the faint of heart. The trail extends from Georgia to Maine for more than 2,000 miles. Toby, 12, is determined to make his way across the last 400-plus miles of the trail through Maine, the state that hosts the hardest mile of the entire trek. Toby's reason for setting out on his foolhardy solo attempt becomes clear as the story progresses. He feels guilty because he and his best friend Lucas wrote a list of 10 accomplishments they wanted to complete, the final one being hiking the trail. The penultimate one, jumping off a rope into a quarry, was the deed that accidentally killed Lucas and convinced Toby that he needed to hike the trail to complete their list. Toby knows enough to bring gear, food, and money. But he quickly gets into real difficulty when he runs out of food and becomes chilled. Readers will relish experiencing the dangers of living on the wild side. Toby's trip of self-discovery and adventure matures him into a more confident, less negative person who is finally able to forgive himself and feel happiness. VERDICT This action-packed tale of a boy fighting the elements and his own negative self-image never falters. Buy where wilderness adventure stories and survival tales circulate well.-Lillian Hecker, Town of Pelham Public Library, NY © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Toby runs off to hike a rugged portion of the Appalachian Trail, a plan made with his friend Lucas, who has recently died. Overcome with guilt and unprepared for the weather and dangers, twelve-year-old Toby (accompanied by a stray dog) encounters numerous perilous situations. Toby shows considerable growth as the backstory behind Lucas's death unfolds. This dramatic survival story should keep adventure-seeking readers turning the pages. (c) Copyright 2018. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Just when I am crouching over the boiling pot, calculating the last nuggets of food in my pack, I hear it. A growl in the shadows. My heart slams into my throat. Bear. I've been so busy thinking about the little things, that I lost sight of the big ones. A bear is a big thing. And not a good one. I am alone, with only a Swiss army knife for protection. And I'm pretty sure a two-inch blade covered in last night's cheese crumbs won't stop much of anything. But I slide the knife out of my back pocket anyway and point it out ahead of me, jabbing at the night. The growl gets louder. It's coming from a choked tangle of bushes fifty feet from my campsite. In the thickening darkness I can't see when it might attack. I think I read somewhere that if you see a black bear, you shouldn't run away or they'll think you're prey. You're supposed to look big and make loud noises. So I stand up slowly. I open my mouth to shout at it. Nothing comes out. I also read somewhere that animals can see and smell fear, which is really too bad because I'm trembling all over and I can feel myself breaking into a cold sweat. Look big, I tell myself again. Be brave. But then my mind empties out and I'm just praying please don't eat me, please don't eat me. Bristling fur. Sharp teeth. Snarling lips. I cry out as it comes hurtling out of the bushes like a burst of crackling gunfire and -- it's a dog. Shaggy faced and flop eared, eyes brave with desperation. Pitch black except for a hollowed-out chest that's so mud-spattered, I can't tell if it's brown or white. A tail bent at the tip, as though someone had tried to snap it in half. It's definitely a mutt. Mangy and starving and as ugly as sin. I can count his ribs. The dog rushes at me but I feel my heart start beating again. I leap back out of his way as he stalks over to my cook site. A swift kick with his hind leg upsets my dinner pot. "Hey!" I shout, but it's too late. Spaghetti and foaming starchy water spill to the ground. The movement was practiced, smooth. This dog has done this before. He grabs a mouthful of scorching noodles and beats it back to the bushes. I have never seen a dog hold boiling food in its mouth. The rest of my fear melts away. It must be near crazy with hunger. I wonder how long it has been out here, scavenging for scraps from frightened hikers. I stare at the remaining spaghetti lying in the dirt. My dinner. My stomach growls angrily. I can try and salvage the remains, give the noodles a long rinse and hope the tomato sauce covers up any grit that might remain. I sigh. Instead, I dig a fork out of my mess kit and scoop the muddy spaghetti into my pot. I tiptoe over to the edge of the campsite and dump the contents on the ground. I can see the dog now. He's twenty feet away, behind the thickest part of the bushes. He watches me with uncertain eyes. I back up slowly. The dog does not budge until I have retreated all the way to the tent. Then it shuffles forward and begins gulping down the rest of its dinner. "Enjoy it," I tell him. I'm still annoyed, but at least he seems to appreciate my cooking. Digging into my pack, I pull out a flattened peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was going to be my lunch for tomorrow, but it will have to do for tonight. As the dog busies himself with my pasta, I crawl into the tent, where I spend the last minutes before true dark with the taste of cold sandwich in my mouth and the certainty that tomorrow, I'm going to have to find more food. Excerpted from The Trail by Meika Hashimoto All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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