Date: 2010-03-07
To: Well Begun is Half Done
Miles today: 0.0

I slept well on the eve of my first overnight trip into the wilderness, a couple overlooked items (bear bag, TP) slipping into my consciousness during the slumbering hours that I groggily note to include in my pack in the morning. Prepped and packed with coffee in hand, I¢m out the door at 7:30a heading for Amicalola Falls and the 8.1 mile Approach Trail to Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. The purpose of my trip is to spend the night at Springer shelter so that I can field test my shiny new gear and acquire a modest bit of conditioning and camping experience in the process; in particular I am eager to try out my new tent.I mentally review my gear on the drive to Amicalola; confident that I have everything I need to survive the hike and freezing temps expected at my overnight destination. The guest bedroom in our house has been temporarily transformed into ground zero and staging area for all things trail related. All of my gear is located here in this one space, available at a single glance of the eye, making it nearly impossible to overlook anything I¢ll need. If my kids¢ rooms looked half as chaotic then that $1 allowance would surely be in jeopardy! So it is that I pull up to the Amicalola Visitor Center to check in and am immediately struck by a needful item that I¢ve left at home -- my trekking poles. Doh!! Hike-wise this isn¢t so much a tragedy but my concern centers instead on my tent that is designed efficiently to use a single pole to support the structure. For the briefest insane moment I consider driving the 75 miles back home to retrieve these miscued items before snapping to my senses. My distraction is evident as I register with Ron at the Visitor Center desk, my mind racing to formulate an acceptable and plausible alternate plan. I ask Ron if they sell trekking poles or perhaps have a hiker box where lost or discarded gear is held on a first come first serve basis. The answer is ¢No¢ and ¢No¢. I then ask about the crowds at the Springer Shelter, knowing that March is the most popular month for thru-hikers beginning their trek. He replies that the shelter was full last night causing my heart to sink a little more, and he¢s not sure about the scene up there tonight. As an afterthought he adds there's a few inches of snow at Springer as well. In this space of time I have now formulated plans B, C and D. Plan B - I purchase a walking stick for $9.99 thinking I can use it on my hike and make it work with my tent if I have to, beating it into the ground to achieve the proper support height; Plan C ¢ Get onto the trail, find a steady pace and make a break for Springer shelter, hoping to beat any latecomers and claim a space; Plan D ¢ If the shelter is full then possibly yogi-ing (i.e. begging) an unused pole for the evening for my tent. With these alternate options in place I relax my mind, don my pack and set out on the trail.The trail and scenery are beautiful and my chest swells with these first steps into the wilderness. The landscape is seasonally brown and the 2 foot wide trail pulls me deeper into the terrain. Patches of snow at first dot just the shaded areas behind rocks and trees but increase in size as the trail climbs towards and above the ridgeline, until eventually I¢m trekking through whole mountainsides painted white. The pattern is such that the southern and western slopes bear these winter reminders while the northern and eastern slopes have shed this topcoat and cheerfully welcome the warming sun. Writing this does not capture my joy at being a part of this.With a steady pace and only a brief pause for snacks I make the trip to Springer in a single 4 hour push, arriving at 1:30p to discover that, for the time being, I've got the shelter to myself. Woohoo! As usual, things have worked out for the best and the thought of dealing with a rigged-up tent is no longer a concern. I claim a spot in the loft of this two story shelter and chat with Blue Rock, the first thru-hiker I meet on the trail. Blue Rock is beginning her hike today after a one week weather-induced delay and only pauses briefly before pressing on to the 2.6 mile distant Stover Creek shelter for the night. By 4:00 I begin to think that I might have the shelter to myself when two more hikers roll in with the waning sun, Gravy and Derek, both thru hikers as well. They happen to arrive together but are not traveling companions. Derek is from Pennsylvania, laid back but gung-ho for the trip. He hasn¢t chosen a trail name yet and is waiting for ¢the trail¢ to choose his moniker. I later suggest the trail name of ¢Bellows¢ as I watch him eagerly and skillfully bring a campfire to life with the vortex of his breath. He says he¢s not sure about the subtle responsibility that accompanies this name each night on the trail and I am quick to agree with him. Gravy is from Cincinnati and unlike Derek is already expressing remorse about his journey claiming ¢he's not feeling it¢. He speaks of getting off the trail even though he¢s only officially .2 miles into it. He is already missing his daughter, his knee is hurting, his hammock breaks while he's laying in it and then he realizes he also forgot to bring rain gear. Definitely a tough start but I encourage him to push for Neel's Gap at 3 days out and see if his mindset and fortunes don't change. One additional hiker rolls in with the fading sunlight for a grand total of 3 inside the shelter and 1 outside in his field-repaired hammock. At 8:00p it¢s lights out, dictated by nature and our rapidly spinning globe withdrawing the last vestiges of fading sunlight. The next day I tell my kids I went to bed at 8:00p, the same time as them. They point out at that they went to bed at 8:30p and laugh that I was in bed before them.