William "Bill" Thomas Foot

William "Bill" Thomas Foot

William "Bill" Thomas Foot, 53, died Friday, May 19, 2000 of cancer in
Lynchburg. He was the beloved husband and best friend of Laurel Ibbotson
Foot for 34 years and a member of First Presbyterian Church.

A long-time trail advocate and enthusiast, Bill and his wife thru-hiked the
Appalachian Trail in 1987 and were the first people to hike and bicycle the
entire American Discovery Trail in 1997. He was a member of The Appalachian
Trail Conference, The American Discovery Trail Society, Natural Bridge
Appalachian Trail Club, Central Virginia Mountain Bike Association and an
honorary life member of the Appalachian Long Distance Hikers Association.
Recently, Bill saw the completion of his dream to have an Appalachian Trail
Foot Bridge across the James River. The bridge is dedicated in honor of his vision
and efforts in making it a reality.

Bill was born Aug. 3, 1946 in Akron, Ohio, the son of Cyril Hughes Foot and
Eunice Walker Foot. He was retired from Framatome Technologies where he
served as Manager of Facilities and Maintenance.

In addition to his wife, he is survived by a son, Michael Thomas Foot and
his wife, Kristin Blais of Richmond; a daughter, Christine Marie Foot of
Boston, Mass.; a sister, Roberta Foot Jackson of Delta, Pa.; and a grandson,
Canyon Alexander Blais Foot.

A memorial service will be held in The First Presbyterian Church, a 11 a.m.
on Tuesday, May 23, 2000 with the Rev. Arthur Fogarty officiating. The
family will receive friends at the funeral home from 7-8:30 p.m. Monday, May
22, 2000.

In lieu of flowers, the family suggests those wishing to make memorial
gifts, consider First Presbyterian Church, 1215 V.E.S. Rd., Lynchburg, Va.
24503, The Appalachian Trail Conference, P.O. Box 807, Harpers Ferry, W.Va.
25425-6331 or The American Discovery Trail Society, P.O. Box 20155,
Washington, D.C. 20041-2155.

Eulogy for Bill Foot's Memorial Service, May 23, 2000
written by his son, Mick Foot.

As many of you know, my father loved attention and would have been pleased to
see the crowd gathered here today. As many of you also know, he was a
die-hard trail enthusiast and lover of life. He had many passions over the
years that he threw himself into whole-heartedly. Everything he did, he did
all the way. I'd like to list some of the ones that stand out in generally
chronological order:
· As a young boy, he built his own ham radio and then would stay up at night
tuning into stations from all over the world and recording what countries he
had heard from in a big journal.
· As he entered his teenage years, he spent a great deal of time in pool
halls (no doubt to the chagrin of his parents). When he entered college, he
continued to play and won several tournaments. Up until the end, he was
infuriating to play with as he would not infrequently break and then run the
table before I got to make a shot.
· In college he got involved with motorcycle racing and won a mantle full of
trophies (though he was always a little jealous that my mother's trophy from
a motorcycle race was the tallest by about an inch).
· My mom's brother introduced Dad to caving in college. For much of my
childhood, he and I went on many caving weekends to West Virginia and
Indiana. Due to his size and general exuberance, there were few situations
that Dad felt he was incapable of handling. This was true for him, though
less true for me, as I was still quite young and scrawny. To this day, my
mom has only an inkling of what some of those trips were like.
· He also spent many hours learning and playing bluegrass banjo with a good
friend of his. To this day, whenever I hear "Cripple Creek" or "Old Joe
Clark", I immediately think of this time.
· He then took up flying and earned his pilot's license. He prudently gave
up this sport after he crashed one plane and another was totaled by a tornado
just minutes after we touched down.
· My mom and dad then decided they might like to get into backpacking. A
year later, they had taken leaves of absence from their jobs and spent five
months hiking the entire Appalachian Trial. Invigorated by their experience,
they devoted countless hours working on and advocating for the trail.
· They then decided that they might like to do some mountain biking. Of
course, biking around the area would not do for my father. So . . . they
decided to be the first people to cross the country on the American Discovery
Trial. After 6 months and 5,000 miles of biking and backpacking, they had
ridden from Delaware to California, making friends along the way.
· Despite all these interests, however, his overwhelming passion was for his
family and his friends. He meant more to me than I can say and I will miss
him for the rest of my life.

For anyone looking to honor my father's life, I can think of no better way
than to enjoy your own. Pursue your passions, honor your dreams, and cherish
those around you. Live your life so that whenever you die, you'll be able to
look back with satisfaction and think "I have lived my life."

I would also like to tell one story about a caving trip we went on when I was
a teenager. When you're in a cave, the route isn't always clearly marked.
Being the smallest, it was frequently my responsibility to crawl into tiny
little holes to see if it "goes." On a trip to a cave called Hell Hole, Dad
and I went to the very end of the cave where the mud floor rises to meet the
ceiling. However, there had recently been a huge flood and there was a small
hole where the end normally was. "See if it goes, Mick" was my dad's
inevitable instruction. Somewhat grudgingly I slithered in, half-hoping to
see it dead end. However, it kept going on like that. 50 yards in, I was
starting to get a little nervous as the passage was so small that if it did
stop there was no room to turn around and I was going to have to back out the
entire way. "It's getting pretty small, I'm not sure how much further I can
go" I yelled back, face inches from the packed mud floor. "See if it goes"
Dad said predictably. I kept going 100 yards, then 150. Seeing how deeply I
was in at this point, Dad decided to follow. After about a quarter mile of
crawling/slithering, the passage opened a up little and then a little more
and then we were able to stand up and look around. We were in a small room
that human eyes had never seen. Off of this room was a booming passage that
stretched into the blackness. We had stumbled into one of the biggest
sections of virgin cave to be found in West Virginia in years. My father was
beside himself with excitement. We decided to head back out to meet up with
friends in the other part of the cave. As we approached his friends, Dad
began yelling until he was hoarse. He and others came back to the cave on
subsequent weekends and eventually mapped several miles of new passage in
that section.

I've read that when people have near-death experiences, they often describe
being in a long tunnel. I think Dad's years of caving prepared him well for
this journey. I can picture him reaching the end of that tunnel and shouting
back to the rest of us "IT GOES!"