First Encounter with the Appalachian
Trail
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| Near the top of Blood Mountain |
I unzipped the door to my tent and peered out, the clouds
were still low and heavy. They had been keeping the warmth from the sun off the
mountains all day while making sure everything under them was wet and chilly. I
groaned from the thought I wouldn’t get to see the sunset, but also because I
had to blow my nose again. I was out of toilet paper from using it to wipe my
nose all day so I had resorted to the gauze pads as my Kleenex. I left the flap
open and lay back on my sleeping bag, hoping my condition wouldn’t get any
worse.
When I had woken up that morning, I had a deep cough, a
sinus infection that made my eyes feel fat in my skull and a fever that would
suddenly turn into a chill then back to a fever again. I knew it was going to
be a tough day walking up and down mountains on this small trail. Plus, I had around
75 pounds of almost useless gear weighing me down and giving me serious neck
and shoulder pain. With extreme discomfort and a cold getting worse, I set out
for a 10 mile hike through the Appalachian Mountains of north Georgia.
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| Justus Creek crossing |
On the trail I had I already hiked through, I passed dense
forest full of old and young trees, creeks so inviting their steady music made
breaking there an easy excuse. Mountain ridges were consumed with life, green
thriving life. Life that smelled and felt ancient. The air all around was
bursting with pleasant smells; fresh, clean air, the way God intended it to be.
Surrounded by animals that wouldn’t let themselves be seen, but heard all
throughout the day, busy with their tasks of finding food and avoiding humans. For
14 miles in 2 days, I had only seen a few people myself, and that was at the
only dirt road that cut through my trail.
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| Cooling off |
I started my journey at Amacolola Falls State Park. They
host the 9 mile approach trail to the summit of Springer Mountain, the official
southern point of the Appalachian Trail. My aunt Kari and cousins Ty and Tanner
came with me to hike the first couple miles and get a view of the waterfall. I registered my car and parked it in their
long-term parking spaces. A few little adjusts to the gear and I was headed in
the mountains.
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| 1 mile in and ready for a break |
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| Top of Springer Mountain! |
After a rough start; meaning back tracking to my car to dump
weight and fix a broken strap, I was now ready to try again. The approach trail
is mostly uphill, and steep uphill. “Strenuous” is the word the state park
uses. With a heavy pack the crooked walking stick my cousin found was much
appreciated. I had 5 miles to go until I reached the summit, but the “strenuous”
hike took its toll fast. I made camp early that day.
I finished the last 5 miles the next morning and so began my
journey on the historic Appalachian Trail.
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| View from Neel's Gap |
As I lay in my tent that third evening, I felt defeated. I
was already sick and getting worse fast, I had blisters on my back, horrible
pain in my shoulders and neck, a tent and sleeping bag that were meant for very
cold nights in the Rocky Mountains, way too much gear that could have helped
several damaged campers prepare for multiple days before rescue. What I was
packed for was 7 days of wilderness camping, not long-distance hiking with
access to resupply every few days. I started out ambitious and content that all
my research and experienced hikers’ brain picking was sufficient, but reality
was far different from talk. Duh.
Then I began praying and talking to God, I wondered why I
felt such a spiritual need to go on this journey just to have it grind me into
the ground so quickly. He reminded me of my original intentions and reasoning
for being out there. Jesus didn’t carry a 3 pound weather-proof solar charger, Moses
didn’t have an assortment of food options (peanut butter with crackers and
snickers or pre-flavored tuna on bagels with a Cliff bar, or maybe custom gorp
on the side of my dehydrated chili mac and cheese with beef.) I wanted to have
a walking experience like they had, a moment in their life to think, pray and
learn. What I had done was surround myself with luxuries, like a 3 person tent,
cushioned seat with no legs for leaning back and enough duct tape to build
another tent.  |
| Getting ready for my first night on the trail |
I’m not complaining about everything I brought, I just had
to be reminded that I was having an awesome time! I had so much to keep me
occupied and comfortable that I was on the wrong trip. I was having a great
camping experience. Yes I was sick and hurting, but there wasn’t one moment
when I didn’t feel so much joy and peace. I was exactly where I WANTED to be.
I stared off into the trees, the clouds grew darker as the
sun set somewhere behind them. I laughed at myself for the situation I was in.
I accepted my self-torture of the weight of my gear as a means to get the “camping”
out of my system. I knew each step on
the Appalachian Trail was exactly where I was MEANT to be.
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| "Crap" hanging from a tree |
The next morning, I unloaded my pack, put 35-40 pounds of “crap”
up in a tree the same way you hang food at night to keep animals and bears out
of it. I put a note in a ziplock next to where I tied off the rope on another
tree. I wanted other hikers to know I’d be back for my “crap.” 6.5 miles later
at another road crossing, two older guys gave me a ride to the hostel at Neel’s
Gap, an AT hiker’s paradise. They provide shelter, a warm meal, and a full
service outfitter for hikers like me don’t who have the right gear or too much “crap.”
They say they ship out an average of 9,000 pounds of hikers’ “crap” each year.
There I talked to other hikers, compared notes, learned how
to test the right gear and had a ton of questions answered. Not to mention a
hot meal, it was October Fest at the hostel. A beer, a brat and German cake
where exactly what the doctor ordered. My bunk mates were two guys in their
mid-60s, one headed north, the other south. They gave me tons of useful, much
needed advice. The south bounder, or SOBO it’s called, had everything he needed
in his pack weighing in at 29 pounds. Mine weighed 40, and that was only with the
tent, sleeping bag/pad, 2 liters of water and a day’s worth of food, my other
gear was still hanging in a tree. The next morning, I felt ten times better,
more learned about the ways of long-distance hiking and ready to figure out
what to do next.
I spent a couple more days in those mountains. I hiked back
to my “crap,” made camp off the trail at a state park and did some day hiking.
I spent a good amount of checking off items in my pack that had to be replaced
with something better (including the pack itself), dumped or what I was missing
to achieve a true long-distance hiking experience.
Before I made the very difficult decision to not officially
get back on the trail where I left off, I met other hikers who were in my same
shoes. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who ran into trouble this close to the
start of the trail. They had reasons ranging from lack of skill, too much
weight, not enough time, not for them or “that was good enough.” I left the Appalachian
Trail due to a cold that wasn’t going away, but thankfully not getting any worse,
and realizing in order to continue I have to invest a lot of money in mostly
new and lightweight gear. I could have stuck around, bought all the gear at
Neel’s Gap and waited for the cold to pass, but I knew I’d be coming back
either way and I’d hit the trail fresh and prepared the right way. |
| The AT cuts right through the hostel at Neel's Gap |
This trip fulfilled every reason I wanted to go this late in
the season. I thought it would take me between 2 weeks to a month to learn what
I have, but 5 days was all that was needed. I wanted to get hands on experience
of the trail and make sure it was something that my soul connected with. I didn’t
want to waste any more time of support of others if it wasn’t for me, which I
was ready to admit if that be the case.
I am in love with the Appalachian Trail and each step it
takes to hike the entire thing. When I return in 2013, I will be prepared to
hike all 2,178 miles. There will be moments when you can only hike 1.5 miles in 4 hours when the way gets
treacherous and 20 miles a day when the way opens its arms to you.
Yes, plans change. This blog has been covering each new plan
as it comes along, from starting the trail in May as a thru-hike then pushing
it off until August and then a short trip in September instead. Now it’s
looking like a late March to early April return next is the next goal. Time and
money are not on my side. To hike the AT will cost several thousand dollars,
that includes gear, food, resupplying, paying off bills ahead of time, travel
costs and more. My previous estimates for the Kickstarter project were way off,
I’m happy that didn’t work out. Timing is crucial, family and loved ones make
it difficult to be away from for long amounts of time. I know committing to the
Triple Crown trails will take a long time, but I know it will pay off in the
long run. But it still means missed memories, which I hope I won’t regret.
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| One of the nicer shelters along the trail |
Keep following the blog, I’ll have more updates throughout
the winter.
I’m back in Sarasota, FL to work for my uncle for another
month, and then I’m going home to Colorado. When I’m not working or spending
quality time with friends and family, I’ll be hiking and breaking in new gear.
Preparation for this kind of long-distance hike is much more than just hitting
the gym; all my shoulder presses and weight lifting didn’t make that 80 pound
backpack any lighter.
I want to thank everyone who has supported me so far: you
all have made this recent journey happen.
Mom and Dad; thank you for your
moral support, the tent and sleeping bag and prayers.
Melanie; thank you for your
encouraging words. I’m happy you and Blake had an amazing Pacific Coast highway
adventure!
Uncle Don; thank you for your
words of wisdom, advice, inviting me into your home, and being a dear friend.
Grandpa Tony, Grandma Marilyn, Jerad
Birch, the Oakleys, Mr. and Mrs. Riddell, Nana, the Walkers, Big Mike; thank
you for your kind words, your prayers, and encouraging support.
Lauren; thank you for the
harmonica, it came in handy on those lonely nights.
