Arriving at the beginning of the AT

Things don’t always go as planned. . .

«Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.» mike tyson

The morning I left, snow was falling and piling up on the roads, the roads my Greyhound bus would have to travel on.

All preparations had been made and my bus arrived in Atlanta in time to catch a shuttle to the Amicalola Falls Visitor Center to register for my hike. I would then hike the AT Approach Trail until I reached the lodge, where I had a reservation, and begin my hike the next day.

My wife and I got up early, I showered, shaved, put on my hiking clothes and went out to sweep the snow off the jeep. My wife got ready while I grabbed my backpack, loaded with everything I would be carrying for the next few months. Before long, she was driving me to the bus station with our dog in the back.

The snow was still falling as he pulled into the bus terminal parking lot. We arrived a few minutes early so we sat in the Jeep until it was time to say goodbye. I checked a notification on my phone and saw that the bus would be delayed, but not canceled. I patted Loki, kissed my wife, and entered the terminal.

He waited outside a few more minutes hoping (hoping?) for the bus to cancel, but I texted him not to wait in case road conditions got worse.

Meanwhile, the bus delay grew and I became nervous about making my connection in New York. Finally, the Greyhound was 40 minutes late, the driver checked us in, and we were on our way, but not before the bus got stuck in the snow and had to back up and take off at full speed to clear the slope of the parking lot.

Somehow, the driver miraculously made up time and I made my connection in New York City on a bus to my next transfer in Washington, DC. With only two stops scheduled, I thought that connection, which would take me to Atlanta, was fairly secure. I made a mistake.

Baltimore was a 30 minute stop with a driver change. The passengers unloaded and rested in the terminal. I texted my wife to let her know I was in her hometown and we were exchanging messages until it was time to load. However, our new driver was nowhere to be found. I asked at the counter and the manager told me that they were looking for them. It’s not a good sign.

The driver never showed up and my wife suggested I just take a cab to DC, but by the time I thought about it, it was too late to make the connection. It was after 10 p.m., but I texted the shuttle driver to let him know I would be late to Atlanta.

Other passengers who were going to stop in DC got on a different bus and I found one going to Atlanta from Baltimore, so I got on.

. . . But things often turn out well

A day and a half after my trip began, I got off in Atlanta, three hours late, in dreary weather. The last bus caused me to miss my transportation, so I ended up taking an Uber to Amicalola Falls, which arrived just in time for the visitor center to close.

The scenery on the way to Amicalola was beautiful, and my Uber driver, a friendly lady and a pleasant conversationalist, told me about the local history and folklore. We passed some beautiful Georgia scenery on the way, which was in no way diminished by the drizzle, and we were both impressed by the view from the lodge where I rested at the top of the mountain.

My plan had been to check in at the Amicalola Falls Visitor Center in the afternoon, climb the stairs to the falls, and stay at the lodge. Since I didn’t check in the day before, I started my first day by walking to the visitor center. . . down the stairs.

When I arrived I was sweating and puffing, humiliated by a challenging mile I would soon repeat in reverse. Along the way, I passed lots of hail that had fallen in a storm the night before, and I felt blessed to be able to start after rather than before that weather event.

At the visitor center, I checked in, received information on Leave No Trace, campfire safety, bear hanging procedures, and a fun video presented by a park ranger dressed in a bear suit. I signed up, received my hangtag, and got my snaps. I walked through the arch and began the AT Approach Trail.

Climbing the stairs was exhausting, but the views of the falls were spectacular and I now had time to pause and appreciate them. After reaching the top, I saw a sign indicating the detour to the hostel. I went the other way.

My goal for the day was to build a shelter at Black Gap, which was just below Springer. Since I had made the hike down, I didn’t want to push too hard to go up. However, when I arrived at Black Gap, the day was still young. I broke for lunch, waiting to see how I felt afterwards. By the time my rest was over, my legs had made a verdict: let’s go!

The uphill climb to Springer continued to baffle me. It seemed like I was close to the top, but the path would somehow find a way to continue climbing. I didn’t see anyone the entire way, but when I finally reached the top, two younger hikers were sitting looking at the view.

«Am I there?» I snorted. “Yes,” they murmured.

I found the iconic sign that I had seen so many times in photos. A lifelong dream was about to come true. I put my hand on the first white flare. And then I cried.

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