Getting There and My First Day

I have a confession: I wasn’t quite ready for this. I really thought I was. I did so much hiking last year. But I genuinely wasn’t ready for all of the literal ups and downs that the Appalachian Trail in Georgia. 

Between freezing weather, muscle cramps, and mice, my first week has been nothing short of amazing. Seriously. But so much has happened, I’m going to narrow this down to my trip to the trail, and my first night. I don’t want to spare any gory details.

Leaving Home

The Home Front:

The biggest hurdle was actually leaving. I spent some good, quality time with my little Mr. Worf. My sweet boy. He’s the best behaved cat, and I can see that he’s doing okay without me. I am, however, not doing the best without him. I did do a few long snuggles with him, and when I left, he was crunching on his food. 

Columbus, GA

On my way to the AT I didn’t go straight to Amicalola. My wife and I spent a couple of days in Columbus, Ga. I wanted to check out the National Infantry Museum ever since they broke ground for it years ago. It’s a fantastic museum. And there are exhibits there that are directly related to my time in the military, which is surreal. They have an exhibit that covers the War on Terror, and a lot of the stuff I was involved in was on display. But it wasn’t just full of exhibits that were about what I did – to my surprise, there were actual “artifacts” on display that I directly interacted with.

Most notable of these is the “Adopt a Highway” sign that was out on Highway 1 near Ad Dawr. It was a hilarious fixture–something that you wouldn’t expect to see in Iraq in a combat zone. But it was definitely not something I’d ever expect to see again in person–especially not in a museum. There was also the memorial wall, where I took the time out to find names of those who I knew. But I also took a moment and mourned my friends who died as a direct result of their experiences in the war, whose names aren’t inscribed on those slabs.

You can take the boy out of the war, but you can’t take the war out of the boy, and a lot of us are still suffering and dying. 

Amicalola Falls Lodge:

Next was Amicalola Falls Resort, which was wonderful. When my wife and I first walked through the doors, we skipped the front desk and went and gasped at the view through the lobby window instead. I’m sure we’re not the only ones that have done that.

I didn’t realize that the great views were just beginning. I was just going to need to work a little harder to get to them. 

The day we got there I registered for my hike, got a briefing from a trail ambassador named Fred, and I was ready to set off the next day. My brother and his wife came to see me off, and he treated us to dinner at the resort’s restaurant. I saw reviews saying the food is overpriced– and I don’t necessarily disagree. But then again, it was delicious, and a great “final meal” before I was sent off into the wilderness. (I had the Blackened Shrimp and Grits. The shrimp weren’t really “blackened” and it was an ugly looking dish, but it was absolutely delicious.)

The next day I planned on leaving in the late afternoon. I didn’t want to wake up and leave straight away. My wife was planning on driving out that day, and my brother was camping that night as a sort of safety net for me in case anything went wrong that first night. 

I was also waiting for my inReach Mini 2 to finish its activation. Yes, I know: I should have done it before the trip. But it was so expensive, I kept putting it off until the last possible moment. So to kill some time, I decided to hike some of the approach trail with my brother.

Trail ambassador Fred from the briefing gave me some genuinely great advice. He told me when my first easy resupply opportunity would be (Neel Gap) and explained the bear canister regulations, as well as the section of the trail I could not camp in without a canister. One thing that he made clear is that I shouldn’t start from the arch at the welcome center. Another was that I shouldn’t hike straight through the bear canister required area, since I should be keeping my miles low at first to prevent injury. I’m a bit embarrassed to say I ignored both of these very fine points of advice. Much to my detriment.

For the uninitiated: the approach trail is hard. But not only is it hard, it starts with a section that contains around 600 steps that go right up a waterfall. Fred said to skip these steps.

I assured Fred that I would not be dumb enough to do the stairs. I lied. And Fred was right. 

He was so right in fact, I ended up taking several early zero days just to recover from my first day.

So yeah, my brother and I went up those damn steps. He, who would get to sleep and drive home. Me, who had to start walking to Maine.

The day I started was the 100th anniversary of the Appalachian Trail. This was not planned, but it really made me feel like I was doing something special. Ignore the fact that I didn’t actually reach mile 0 of the trail until the next day. I started on the 100th anniversary, and I’m sticking to that.

But I really thought I could make it up to Springer that first night. I did not. I wasn’t even close. I was huffing and puffing my butt off going up even the first few hills. And I realized the hard way that all of those miles that I put in hiking around flat Illinois wasn’t going to help me as much as I thought here. Even though I carried a 45-55 lb pack back then, and my pack is only 30-35 lbs with food and water now. It doesn’t matter. Gravity doesn’t care, and my muscles screamed. They also later cramped, and ached in a way I haven’t felt since I was younger. Before I knew it, I started to seek out logs and rocks to sit for a bit. To catch my breath and contemplate my life choices up until that point. 

As dark started to descend, I knew I had to get my tent down and “give up” for the night. I did, and in so doing, made a few other mistakes. I was already down to only a half a liter of water, but I knew I should eat some dinner. I had never used a pocket rocket stove before, nor had I ever cooked in my titanium cup. I knew the basics: water in the cup so it doesn’t deform the metal. So I poured in my water, threw in oatmeal and some powdered milk, and turned that baby up. And yep: I burnt the hell out of my food. Since it contained the precious liquid I would need to survive, I ate it anyway. Of course, I made sure to cook far away from my campsite, leaving my bear canister nestled securely in an empty log. Something I’ve made a habit out of, after envisioning a bear rolling my canister down a hill trying to get it open.

That first night was cold, but it wasn’t that bad. I’m equipped for colder weather, and it wasn’t colder than the coldest nights I spent last year while prepping for my hike. The next morning I broke camp and just as I did, a white bearded trail ambassador greeted me. He helped me out a ton. He not only gave me water, but gave me the rest of his Gatorade, along with the bottle, on the promise that I would pack it out with me. I really wish I would have gotten his name, because he saved my butt that morning. He told me that there would be a storm coming in that night, and I should try to make it to a shelter, letting me know that the Springer Mountain shelter is a double decker, and I should try to make it there before the storm hits.

It was also my first taste of trail magic, and my discovery that people on the trail are some of the best and kindest I’ve ever met. I’m excited to see what the miles ahead will bring.