It’s time to pass the mic. Earlier this year, we put out a call for AMC stories in honor of our 150th anniversary. Stories of epic adventures, sweet connections, high mountain summits, and memories from AMC huts and lodges started coming in from across the region—but there’s no way we could have imagined just how heartfelt, artfully told, and special they’d be.
Here are four stories we loved from AMC members who shared their connection to the outdoors and the community they’ve found there. (Feel inspired to share your own? There’s still plenty of time to submit!)
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Jeannette Balantic and her sons, Finn and Eamon Cullen.
Our first story is from Jeannette Balantic, who reminds us what can happen when you decide the outdoors is for you–and then go for it. We loved the grit and passion in this story, and learning how a family’s early adventures with AMC inspired the next chapter in their lives.
Transformed by the Trail
By Jeannette Balantic
At the time of our first AMC trip, I was a single mom of two young boys, Finn and Eamon—12 and 10 at the time. I knew I wanted my kids to experience the magic of the outdoors, but I didn’t feel I had the skills to venture much beyond local car camping and short backpacking trips. So, we registered for an AMC Family Hut-to-Hut trip to Mizpah and Lakes of the Clouds, and later the AMC Summer Echo Lake Camp in Acadia. Both experiences were transformative—for my kids and for me.
On the hut-to-hut trip, the trail guides were supportive, patient, and funny. They helped participants bond and tackle challenging terrain. Along the way, they offered tasty treats—goat cheese and raspberry jelly remains one of our favorites—while also teaching Leave No Trace principles and the importance of outdoor stewardship. My kids learned they were capable of doing hard things and fell in love with the mountain views you can only reach on foot. They will never forget their first cold plunge in an alpine lake at Lakes of the Clouds. And, of course, the camaraderie at the huts, the hearty meals, and the talks hosted by the Croo were all inspiring.
Our Echo Lake trip offered a wonderful mix of hikes and camp activities, including a triathlon. During that trip, I had an unexpected allergic reaction to aspirin, and the hike leaders were incredible—calm, attentive, and kind, helping my kids feel safe while taking care of me. We still talk about the “Moth-like” night of storytelling, the ping-pong and Scrabble tournaments, and the uniqueness of being part of a multigenerational group that ranged from babies to people in their eighties – that kind of shared experience is truly unique!
Beyond the trails and vistas, what made the greatest impression on my kids—and on me—were the extraordinary people who work and volunteer for AMC. Their example left a lasting mark. Eamon later attended NOLS with hopes of becoming an outdoor guide, and when Finn graduated from college, the two of them moved to Livingston, Montana, where they founded Crazy Mountain Ventures, a nonprofit that helps local kids experience the outdoors while developing leadership and stewardship skills. They often say their time with AMC helped spark their love of nature and shape their desire to introduce kids to the outdoors, as they genuinely believe in the transformative power of nature.
For me, AMC taught lessons that went far beyond the trail. Those early experiences gave me the confidence to plan numerous outdoor adventures with kids and my friends. Recently retired from a career in public education, I find myself exploring ways to weave adventure more intentionally into this next chapter—perhaps through guiding or teaching in the outdoors—continuing to inspire others to find the joy and confidence that spending time in nature gave me.
You can’t overestimate the impact AMC has on the lives it touches!
Mt. Katahdin, Baxter State Park, Maine. Photo by Corey David Photography.
Peter Hoenig has been an AMC member for close to 50 years and a member of the President’s Society for 25—but his journey with the outdoors started long before that, as a 15-year-old boy trying to find his connection to home. Read on for a heartwarming story about how the places we love shape our lives and sense of self.
Becoming an American at age 15
By Peter Hoenig
My parents were Holocaust survivors, recent immigrants from Europe. I grew up in the shadow of WWII, watching my mother learn to make PB & J sandwiches from the neighbor; appreciating my father reading the rules of baseball from a borrowed library book prior to umpiring my 11-year-old baseball birthday party. Their interrupted childhood left them longing for the Alps, Czech dumplings, lost friends and family.
At age 15, the summer after freshman year of high school, my friend Danny and I started hiking south from Mt. Katahdin on the Appalachian Trail. We did this for a week for the next four summers. We didn’t have hiking experience. My father’s only advice was to never dive into water without checking the depth. My mother, worried that I would go hungry, snuck a beef roast into my pack.
There were days–sometimes many–that we didn’t see anyone. Crossing paths with a northbound hiker, we learned that President Nixon had resigned 3 days prior. The white rectangles painted on the trees kept us believing that we were not lost. I was still small, but learned to carry a 40-pound pack. At night we sat around a small campfire, enjoying the warmth and dangerous beauty of fire, trying to smoke pine needles.
The New England woods were gentle on us. We saw no dangerous snakes or poison ivy. We learned to read maps and to be careful. One hundred miles went by without crossing a road. In a deep valley, we walked through snow. We swam in the cold lakes and streams. We sat on mountain peaks and saw where we had come from and where we were going. We learned important words like Nahmakanta, Ammonoosuc, Pemigewasset. Strangely, I hardly remember the blisters, wet boots, hungry mice, black flies, and too many sardines.
The land welcomed us. As I look back 55 years ago, those summer weeks stand tall. The trail, the land, the time was benevolent to me. This was my country, my first touch with being an American.
Jesse and Christine. Photo courtesy of Jesse Waites.
There’s a reason people jokingly call AMC the “Appalachian Marriage Club.” Stick around a community that values conservation, community, and outdoor adventure for long enough and you’ll start hearing love stories–or maybe you’ll find your own. Here’s a story from Jesse Waites, whose life changed over lunch at AMC’s Annual Summit.
The Appalachian Marriage Club
By Jesse Waites
I am the Chair of the AMC Boston Chapter. In addition to my duties as Chapter Chair, I also volunteer with our winter hiking and ice climbing programs each winter. Last year, I learned that the AMC Annual Summit was scheduled during the same exact weekend as the ice climbing program–I was double booked!
As the ice climbing event is one of my favorite volunteer events, I tried very hard to get out of the Annual Summit, but alas, I could not find anyone to cover for me. I regrettably declined helping out with the ice climbing program so I could tend to my Chapter Chair duties.
In a funny twist of fate, I met my future wife, Christine, at this Annual Summit event that I tried so hard to get out of attending! She was looking for a place to eat during our lunch break and asked if she could sit at an empty seat at my table. We had an instant connection, and a mutual love of volunteering and the outdoors, and have been pretty much inseparable ever since. We are now engaged to be married and are honored to be members of what people jokingly refer to as the “Appalachian Marriage Club.”
Ross Lanius and Polly Griest.
Ross M. Lanius met his wife Polly when he got recruited to be a hiking guide at AMC August Camp in 1957–and now they’ve been married for 65 years! Ross left us a voicemail hinting at a love story, and by the way the smile took over his voice when he started to talk about August Camp, we knew it was going to be a good one.
Family Adventures at August Camp
By Ross M. Lanius
When I arrived at AMC August Camp at Abol Pond Katahdin in 1957, I found there was only one other college-aged person there, Polly Greist. Her father was the canoe trip leader and her brother David was on the crew. Polly didn’t want to go to August Camp and miss time from a good paying job at the Yale Biophysics Department, but her mother would not leave her alone for a week. Polly came on my hikes and we got to know each other.
I thought it would be fun to go on an overnight backpack to Russell Pond Shelter. There were several interested campers, including Polly. We loaded up our packs and away we went, a 7-mile hike from the Roaring Brook parking lot. When we arrived we threw our packs into the shelter. I will never forget one woman camper who threw her pack between Polly’s and mine. She was to be the bundling board.
As well as daily hiking trips, we canoed across Abol Pond one evening to watch the bright orange moon rise. When the week ended, I drove to L.L. Bean to get my parents a nice Hudson Bay Four Point wool blanket. Polly came with me and then I stayed at her North Haven Connecticut home that night. Next day I drove back to Wilmington and several weeks later she came on the plane to visit. There followed many trips between Wilmington and later UConn to Wellesley to see Polly. We married in June 1960.
Our second August Camp adventure was in 1963. Spring of that year I got a call asking me to be a hike leader. Yes, but we were pregnant, so the answer depended on when the child was born. Brian was born June 26th, in time for Polly to recover before traveling to Katahdin. When we arrived, the manager was upset. He saw us with a 2-year-old (Don) and a 2-month-old infant (Brian). He probably pictured us boiling water to sterilize bottles and preparing baby food. We did not need a kitchen. Polly was nursing Brian. He was too young for solid foods. All we needed was a box for Don to sit on so he could reach the table to eat. I bet Brian has the record as being the youngest August Camp camper.
Our daughter Sue was a member of the August camp crew for two years. First was 1981 at Stratton, Maine, where she celebrated her 16th birthday. Second was 1982 at Waterville Valley, New Hampshire. Now over the 68 years since we met at August Camp, Polly and I have three kids and seven grandchildren. We enjoy the great outdoors. Hiking and camping is in the family blood. You never know where a summer encounter will lead.