PORTLAND — Hiking the Appalachian Trail, John Degon encountered rattlesnakes and bears, celebrated his 39th birthday with new friends in North Carolina and suffered a broken foot in Connecticut.

He saw sunlight on ice-covered trees in Virginia and breathtaking fall foliage in New Hampshire and Maine. He met people he’ll never forget.

The experience left such an impression that Degon covered his arm with a tattoo of the trail: a red line flanked by plant life. Southern wildflowers etched near his hand where the trail starts, New England maple leaves inked near his shoulder where the trail ends.

Degon, 45, was hiking Katahdin in 2004 where he saw “thru-hikers” complete the 2,180-mile trail. He wanted that experience.

In 2006, between jobs after moving from Massachusetts to Portland, he flew to Georgia and began hiking alone in March.

Things quickly got exciting.

Entering the Smoky Mountains, rain turned to ice. “I’m on the trail, inexperienced, there’s no visibility, not knowing where the next shelter was,” he said. “It was scary but exhilarating.”

He woke to an inch of ice covering the trail. “I sat down and slid on my butt so I wouldn’t slide over a cliff,” he said.

In Gatlinburg, Tenn., he suffered shooting pains up his leg. He sought medical care. A doctor recommended he take a few days off. He said no. “I’m a thru-hiker,” he said. “Stupidly, the next day I went back. That’s when the blizzard started.”

On the trail in a blizzard, he could barely walk. He made his way to a shelter and told fellow hikers he was “really scared.” With support from others, he got off the mountain and hitchhiked to a hostel.

Depressed and discouraged, he spent two weeks recovering at the hostel. Hikers who came and went told him he’d never finish with his shin splints. After two weeks, “I put the pack on my back and went back.”

He found what hikers call “trail magic” in Tennessee, a quart of Gatorade in a stream. “I sucked it down. I had one more mountain to do.”

In Virginia’s Shenandoah Mountains he met rattlesnakes. “They’re really loud,” he said. “You can hear them 10 to 15 feet away.” Calling them “beautiful animals,” he said he kept his distance, walking a wide loop around a big one.

He often sang aloud while hiking at night to scare off bears. He met bears in Virginia, New Jersey and New Hampshire.

In New Hampshire, “I heard a clumping behind me,” Degon said. “I thought it was another hiker.” He turned and saw a bear. He said aloud, “I am way too tired to bother with you.” The bear walked away. “I said, ‘Thank you.’”

One high point was at Pine Grove Furnace in Pennsylvania, the trail’s halfway point. The tradition is that thru-hikers eat a half-gallon of ice cream when they reach it. “You need every calorie,” he said. He was elated when he saw the official halfway sign with an arrow pointing toward Katahdin.

One low point was in Connecticut when he broke his foot. “I was sitting on a rock, eating lunch. I stood up, heard a bone in my foot snap.” He screamed in pain. Hikers helped him off the trail where an ambulance was waiting.

His partner drove from Maine to pick him up. Degon spent six weeks recovering at home. After his doctor proclaimed his foot healed, he went back to Connecticut and resumed hiking. Taking six weeks longer meant he was on the trail in New England in October, taking in the fall colors. “It was so vibrant,” he said.

The experience gave him a different outlook on people, Degon said. “I’m this gay, New England guy there in the deep South, wondering what people are going to be like.”

They were great, he said. He learned how to better express gratitude. “You learn to talk to people, to meet people where they’re at. It gives you an appreciation for people. That’s the biggest thing I’ve carried away.”

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