On the Appalachian Trail, hikers sort foods into either of two categories: "friend" or "foe."
For Otis Pannell, 59, of Etowah, Tennessee, the ratings for two particular foods quickly became clear.
Fried cherry pie: friend.
Instant macaroni and cheese: foe.
Otis, who completed the nearly 2,200-mile A.T. last month, said cherry pies packing 400 calories each were his go-to snack when he needed to fuel up on the trail.
Meanwhile, he blames his 86-year-old dad, retired electrician Clayton Pannell, who completed the A.T. in 1995, for suggesting that he load up on instant mac and cheese.
"The worst advice he gave me was instant macaroni and cheese," Otis said in an interview with his father in Cleveland, Tennessee, last week. "I realized (on the trail) that I don't like instant macaroni and cheese."
That a father and son would both complete an A.T. thru-hike is interesting. That they both did it at age 59, albeit 27 years apart, is more striking.
About 3 million people hike some portion of the Appalachian Trail every year but only about 3,000 attempt to hike the full length all at once. Of those 3,000, fewer than a quarter complete the journey -- which has been calculated at about 5 million steps -- according to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy.
Both Pannell men chose the A.T. experience as a segue into early retirement: Otis from a job at the former Bowater paper plant near Calhoun, Tennessee, and Clayton after a long career as an electrician.
Clayton, now 86, said he'd already hiked about 500 miles on the A.T. before he attempted his thru-hike in 1995. As early as the 1960s, while hiking a short portion of the trail with two nephews, Clayton told himself he might hike the full length of the A.T. one day.
Just before his retirement, some co-workers asked him what he planned to do with his free time.
"I've never been to Maine," he told them, offhandedly. "Maybe I'll walk up there."
Otis was 32 with three small children of his own when his dad hiked the A.T. in 1995. He met him at points on the trail with provisions and encouragement.
Full A.T. hikes were harder then, Otis said. His dad's pack was about 15-20 pounds heavier than his, provisions had to be mailed ahead to post offices along the route and hiking gear was not as high tech. Plus the trail itself has seen a generation of improvements that make it easier to traverse, Otis said.
"Daddy says, 'If you want to experience what I did on the trail, find two, 10-pound rocks and put them in your pack,"' Otis said.
Growing up, and even into young adulthood when he was working shift work at the paper plant, Otis said he and his dad shared a love of hiking.
"He was dragging me out on the trail every time I had an off day," Otis recalled. "But he didn't have to pull very hard."
Hiking the A.T. was not part of some bucket list, Otis said.
"I never intended to hike the A.T.," he said. "That was Dad's dream."
But when he quit work, it occurred to him that because of his age and life circumstances there might not ever be a better time to experience the wonders of the A.T.'s New England leg.
"I knew the Northeast would be epic, and I would never get up there and see that 1,000-mile stretch of trail if I did (the A.T.) on weekends and week-long vacations," Otis said.
Otis did what is called a flip-flop hike, starting in Harper's Ferry, West Virginia, and working north to Mount Katahdin, Maine, and then motoring back to Harper's Ferry to cover the Southern leg to Springer Mountain, Georgia.
At the end of the journey, Clayton and a family friend, Jack Callahan, of Cleveland, Tennessee, traveled to Springer Mountain to walk the last mile of the A.T. with Otis.
The Pannells and Callahan, who is retired from U.S. Forrest Service, are all active in the Cherokee Hiking Club (CherokeeHikingClub.org), a group of more than 100 hiking enthusiasts stretching from New Orleans to Cincinnati, Ohio.
While no doubt proud of his son for completing the A.T., Clayton couldn't resist a little ribbing when Otis explained he has a phone app that helped him navigate the trail.
"Back (in my day) you had to know what you were doing," Clayton said.
"Easy, now," Otis said with a chuckle.
"Life Stories" is published on Mondays. Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645. Follow him on Twitter @TFPcolumnist.