Two iconic shelters on Pennsylvania’s Appalachian Trail will be demolished

KEMPTON, Pa. — To most people, the Eckville shelter looks like an old tool shed, a throwback to our grandparents’ garages of yesteryear.

For decades, though, this small building just off the Appalachian Trail in Berks County, a former horse barn, has given thousands of thru-hikers a place to rest their weary legs as they make the long trek north, to Maine, or south, to Georgia.

Some of those hikers, with trail names like “Spider,” “Proudfoot,” and “Rocky and Winkle,” a couple from Coral Springs, Fla., have jotted down notes in logbooks to mark their passage through Pennsylvania, home to the trail’s halfway marker and plenty of rocks.

“I slept like a log,” a hiker named Bob wrote in 1996.

The simple, bunk-style shelter with stone floors and the small caretaker’s home in front of it are slated for demolition by the National Park Service sometime in 2026. The NPS owns the land, acquiring it in 1985. Another beloved AT bunkhouse, the 501 Shelter in Schuylkill County, will also be demolished by the Park Service.

The agency did not return requests for comment on the demise of the iconic buildings, but the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, a nonprofit that manages and protects the 2,000-plus miles of the trail, said the NPS has been planning the removal of “nonconforming infrastructure” for “numerous years.”

“While they have become stopping points and used as shelters for [AT] hikers over the last few decades, they do not fall within modern NPS housing, volunteer, and visitor use policies,” Ann Simonelli, the ATC’s communications director, said in a statement.

On a recent rainy weekday, all the hikers had woken and moved on, continuing their treks to Maine‘s Mount Katahdin or Georgia’s Springer Mountain. Hummingbirds fluttered around the feeder on the front porch of the caretaker’s home, where Mick Charowsky has lived and welcomed hikers for three decades.

“We had a full house last night,” he said. “We had about seven hikers in here.”

A three-time AT thru-hiker, Charowsky said he‘s looking for a place to live, but can‘t bear to watch the building come down. “When they bulldoze it, I ain‘t gonna watch it. I‘ll be someplace but I won‘t be here,” he said.

Charowsky took over the caretaker position, which is unpaid, from Cindy Ross and her husband, Todd Gladfelter, two renowned thru-hikers who still live nearby and remain active in Pennsylvania’s outdoors community.

Ross, 69, said she and Gladfelter built their log cabin nearby while they lived there and took in hikers for three years.

“I have fond memories of my time there and that place holds memories for so many hikers,” she said.

Most AT hikers use tents along the way, but there are a variety of ways to sleep on and off the trail, everything from three-sided lean-tos farther away from population centers, to hotels in hiker towns, to private hostels.

There‘s also a simple camping area, with elevated tent pads, across the street from the shelter, which will remain open.

Charowsky said the appeal of a shelter is simple.

“It rains, you stay dry. You don‘t have to set up your tent in the dark either,” he said.

Ross said it’s unclear why the Eckville and 501 shelters couldn‘t have become privately run hostels through leases.

“From what I heard, there wasn‘t much discussion beyond demolition,” she said.

Simonelli said her organization would work with local maintenance clubs and the Park Service to determine if additional overnight sites would be necessary near the soon-to-be-demolished shelters.

Both shelters are maintained by the Blue Mountain Eagle Climbing Club, which manages approximately 65 miles of the state‘s trail for the ATC. Dave Bailey, the club’s president, said he didn‘t want to speculate too much on the demolition decision.

“I suspect the National Park Service doesn‘t want to own any residences,” he said.

As the Appalachian Trail became more popular over the last century, Bailey said it required more management. That’s how Bailey’s club, along with various other clubs up and down the trail, was formed.

When the National Park Service got involved in the 1960s, he said the agency wanted to move the trail away from roads and residences. The Eckville shelter isn‘t on a highway, but motorists, construction vehicles, and garbage trucks passed by the road out front all morning.

“Having the federal government involved actually helped preserve the trail,” he said.

Bailey said he doesn‘t think the AT will suffer without the Pennsylvania shelters, but he sympathizes with those nostalgic about the buildings.

“Hikers have stayed here and mentioned that their parents have stayed here,” he said.

It’s unclear if any of the items in the shelter — old posters, signs, a book about Buddha, will be swept away in the demolition or head down to the Appalachian Trail Museum at Pennsylvania’s Pine Grove Furnace State Park.

Charowsky said the log books won‘t be tossed aside.

“I’m taking the screen door with me too,” he said. “That was custom-made.”

In the comment section of The Trek, a popular outdoors and hiking blog, hikers lamented the loss of the shelters.

“Americans just want to destroy the past,” one wrote. “Reading about this ruined my day.”