Date: 2004-04-15
From: Springer Mountain

To: First Steps
Miles today: 2.6

At last, the journey has begun! It has been a glorious day short on mileage but highlighted by symbolism. This entry will be a long one considering the importance of this day.The morning was taken up with last minute errands, with my cousin Joey driving me around. At the post office in Morganton, I shipped ahead to myself some supplies which will be picked up at a town along the way. In trail jargon, this is called a "drift box." No need to carry unnecessary weight. At the post office, the woman behind the counter sealed my box, smiled, and told me that she had dropped a few mints into it. How sweet! (bad pun) With the errands finished, we drove to Amicalola State Park situated near the start of the "AT." In the visitor center, I signed the official AT register and weighed my backpack. It weighed 33 pounds with a three day food supply inside of it.After that, Joey drove me through a number of back roads until we reached a place on Springer Mountain where the AT crossed a forest service road. Here, my plan was to hike south on the trail for one mile to the mountain's summit--the official start of the AT. To my delight, Joey agreed to hike with me to the summit. I shouldered my backpack and we began our ascent of the forested trail. Alongside the trail were patches of snow, melting under the warm temperatures that we were enjoying. What a difference from yesterday's chilly weather. Half way up, Joey offered to carry my backpack as a symbolic gesture of support. Impressed by his thoughtfulness, I gave him the pack.Along the way, we passed a sign warning hikers about nuisance bears in the vicinity. Minutes later, Joey uttered a shout and jumped backwards. Ahead of him and beside the trail was a dark shape--a stump. His eyes had been focused on the trail at his feet. When the dark shape had loomed into the corner of his eyes, he thought it was a black bear. That was a comical moment.Minutes later, we reached the summit of Springer Mountain. Most of it was covered with trees, but an opening by a small rocky face treated us to a scenic view. Metallic seals with words that cited the significance of the spot--the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail--were imbedded in some rocks.I told Joey that I wanted to bestow upon him a special honor as a gesture of appreciation for his assistance. Hearing this, he looked at me with a curious expression. I told him about a tradition in which a thru hiker gathers a pebble from the summit of Springer Mountain and carries it all the way to the summit of Mount Katahdin in Maine--the northern terminus--where the pebble is symbolically tossed. I asked him if he would gather the pebble which I would carry. Actually, I took three pebbles from him--one for Mount Katahdin, one for a scrapbook, and one for whatever. He seemed touched by the request.The pebbles were placed into a vial in my first aid kit. I told Joey that when I experience moments of frustration or moments of doubt on the trail, I will remove the vial of pebbles and give it a shake. Hopefully, the rattling pebbles will boost my motivation.After taking some photos, we backtracked down the trail to the road crossing. There, I said goodbye to Joey, who drove off. At that moment, I experienced a pang of loneliness, something which I had expected would happen. With nobody around, I offered up a prayer to God and enjoyed the quietude of the area. Then it was time to hike a little more.I hiked for about 3/4 of an hour, passing through a tunnel of rhododendrons. After that, the trail descended into some kind of a hollow or small valley.At the bottom, I followed a side trail about fifty yards to an open faced shelter with room enough for six people. At first, I thought that nobody was around. Moments later, I noticed some tents situated among the trees. It was after 3:00 PM and I decided to make camp. I chose not to use the shelter, preferring to sleep under my tarp shelter. It took me a while to find a suitable location to string it up. I chose an open area within a stand of rhododendrons. Then I gave myself a sponge bath.After cleaning up, I carried my food, hiker's stove and fuel over to a pick nick table situated in front of the shelter.My so called stove is a low tech devise--a used Pepsi can which has been cut down in size. It has tiny holes poked into the sides where the flames come out. It burns denatured alcohol. It is tiny and lightweight.During the evening, four other hikers gathered around the table. Like me, all of them are attempting 'thru' hikes to Maine. All of us are hiking alone. Unlike me, they are in their twenties. There names are Dave, Chris, John, and Olivia. All of them seemed friendly and outgoing. I am glad to be making my acquaintance with them. Perhaps some friendships will blossom.A final incident to relate: While chatting with some of those hikers, I was trying to fire up my alcohol stove. When it first ignites, the flames are barely visible. I lowered my ear close to the stove to listen for a burning sound. Instead, I heard a crackling sound as my hair began to singe from some flames emitting from those tiny holes. I quickly lifted my head away from the heat. Everyone, myself included, laughed.It is dark out and getting cold. I can see my breath as I compose this journal entry from the interior of my tarp shelter. The time has come to pull the sleeping bag over my shoulders and put an end to this first day on the Appalachian Trail.