Green Man on the Rock – Amicalola falls to Gooch Gap

day one

The approach was solemn. A rainy day, an out of shape body, and the looming reality of the decision I made to hike the AT. I felt like I was asleep. also Well, the night before we left for Amicalola Falls. It was either a sign that I had made peace with my decision or a sign that I wasn’t taking it seriously enough.

My parents and brother had dropped me off at the famous Amicalola Arch and then I was alone, walking 9 miles that seemed to stretch on forever. listen Fellowship of the Ring on audiobook and tried to immerse myself while walking through a thick fog for hours.

The day before my walk, I
I turned in my last college assignments and said goodbye to Columbia, South Carolina. Within 24 hours, I was hitting the road. He could feel the whiplash of that timeline as he walked, slow and weak. When I forced myself to take breaks, I would rest my head on my lap and zone out, thinking vaguely, «Where am I? Why am I not at home?» But the house he wanted was no longer there. I swallowed that truth and kept telling myself, «Well, this has to be your house now.»

Fortunately, after about 7 miles, I gained an appetite, something I was worried about losing, as I did when I hiked the foothills trail. A Cliff bar and some cookies propelled me up to Springer Mountain for the final push, a push that seemed like it would never end. I’d turn a corner and see a big rock and think, «Is that the southern terminus?» No, just a big rock. But then, as my knees shook and the rainy fog turned into warm sunshine, I saw the green man on the rock.

I spent some time with Springer crying from an emotion I couldn’t identify. Pride and fear mixed with pure joy. I signed the log book, enjoyed the vibrant green plants of late April, and then hiked past my first white fire to the Springer Mountain Shelter, where I saw a man about my age digging through his backpack.

“Are you Pablo?” I asked, thinking of the name right before mine in Springer’s log book.

«Noo, my name is Sam,» he said with a very distinctive accent. I sat at the picnic table and searched for my first shelter chat, eager to talk to a human again.

«Where are you from?» I asked.

«Pennsylvania,» he said briefly.

«You don’t sound like you’re from Pennsylvania.»

“Well, it depends on what part of PA you’re thinking about,” Sam said. Aha! It clicked.

«Pennsylvania Dutch! Are you Amish?» I said as if I had solved a puzzle. He gave her a soft smile and nodded. I couldn’t help but ask a million more questions about Amish life as we started dinner and Sam pulled out a mighty bear can. Inside was a giant jar of instant coffee, peanut butter, and other items fresh off the aisle that filled the largest bear can to the brim.

“Are you a pickled pehrson?” He said, pulling out an entire glass jar of pickles which made us both laugh. I guess ultraliters are not the norm. Phew.

I made the call to stay at the shelter that night when other hikers arrived and warned us of the rain. Although I’m terrified of mice (I haven’t seen any yet and I’m not looking forward to the moment when I inevitably will), I braved the night with flying colors. I slept all night on Springer Mountain and woke up to a misty campsite of vibrant greens that you only see after it has just rained.

day two

Sam and I found we were at a similar pace, so we set out on the hike together around 8am After just 30 minutes of hiking, Stitches greeted us with our first magical trail! Although it was still early and a little cold, we sat, talked, and enjoyed the snacks. The night before, I had pessimistically said I wasn’t expecting any magic on the trail given the late season, but Stitches proved me wrong. She was a ’99 hiker who proudly stated, «Once a hiker, always a hiker.»

After filling up on root beer, we continued walking. As I had been listening to The Lord of the Rings the day before, I couldn’t help but feel like Frodo with Sam as my Samwise. I told him this, as well as the coincidence of a plane crash memorial sign we passed that said «in honor of Richard Fowler Shoolbred Sr., who died aged 33» while listening to the first episode of Frodo’s 33rd birthday. Where is MY magic ring?

We talked about our planned mileage. We are talking about millipedes, which we almost stepped on many times. Sam talked about wanting to see a bear, to which I responded, «it’s only the second day.» Sam expressed disinterest in climbing uphill, to which I responded, «it’s only day two.»

We stopped at Hawk Shelter for lunch and talked about the horses Sam owns at home. “A good horse tops out at about 52 mph,” he informed me. I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of ​​»driving» a horse, but I was happy to learn about their world, which was very different from mine. Although we both hiked 15 miles of the AT that day, so I guess our lives were pretty much the same now.

We arrived at the Gooch Gap shelter on tired feet and a man calmly said «the bar is open.» That man was Easy Rider, a slow but wise hiker who met us on a night of thunderstorms. A father and his 4-year-old son joined us and I watched the boy jump around the shelter like it was a playhouse and collect whatever coins he found. I chuckled at how similar I felt to him as I noticed my inner child treating the experience like it was summer camp. We braved the rain in the shelter and I couldn’t help but think how surreal it all felt.

I try not to think about Maine. I take it one day at a time. Easy Rider told me that night, «You’re all section hikers until you get to Katahdin.»

Miles traveled: 15.5

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