Day Zero
It was 4am. I was wide awake. I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, and resigned myself to a very early start to the day.
What could possibly be on my mind?? Oh, that’s right. A 2,190 mile walk.
All of the packing and planning had been done. My bag was sitting by the door waiting for me. All that was left to do, really, was to go.
The goodbyes that morning were brutal. Every thought that crosses your mind when making a big decision crossed mine in the hour before leaving: What am I doing? Am I actually ready for this? What if I hate it? Why am I giving up six months of time with the people I love the most?
But for every doubt that slipped through my mind, a little voice whispered back “Go.”
So I did.
With the last very teary hugs and I love you’s, I closed the passenger door as my dad put the car in drive and we went.
The drive to Georgia was about 8 and a half hours, and we made three stops.
The first: breakfast. Pulling off of the highway, the fast food signs fought for their place in the eye line of passersby. Luckily for us, Wendy’s was one of the first turns, and it was the one we made.
The parking lot was pretty empty except for a few cars and a table set up with Girl Scouts selling cookies. Normally I’m the first in line for at LEAST 2 boxes of Samoas, but we had already overpacked in the the food department and alas couldn’t justify the extra snack. Oh well, we thought, at least we can get some breakfast!
Upon opening the Wendy’s door, we were met with a new sound: singing. Laughter. It took us a moment to realize there was nobody at the front counter because they were singing karaoke in the middle of the store!
The workers and the Girl Scouts not manning the cookie table were giving the performance of their lives. It was such a blast! We ordered our breakfasts and were given a free Thin Mint Frosty to sample.
I don’t know if you believe in universal signs, or cosmic messages, but if you do, you can see how I felt my thru hike was almost blessed by this kick off.
The rest of the drive proceeded rather uneventfully, besides the highway-side fire we spotted that fortunately had already been reported to the nearby fire station.
We stayed at Above the Clouds Hostel the night before our start. Immediately upon arriving we were greeted by Lucky and shown to our bunks. There were folks in the common area with guitars and talented singers, and I sat warmed by the fireplace and took in the first real dose of trail community I’d seen in a while. It was wonderful.
Day One
I slept better than I expected to, perhaps a combination of poor sleep the night before and the easy feeling of being surrounded by like minds. And then, before I knew it, it was time.
We got a shuttle from the hostel to the Amicalola Falls Visitors Center. A lovely woman named Mary drove us and told us stories of the area, her life, and her adventures on the AT.
She picked us up when it was still dark, and just as the light peeked over the farther off mountain ranges, we arrived.
The parking lot of the visitors center was sparsely populated, but the lights inside were on. I felt the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
Inside, we took a few minutes to explore the exhibit they had on the history of the Appalachian Trail. We briefly perused the t-shirts and baseball caps. And soon enough, there was only one more step to take.
The check in area for registered thru-hikers was easy to find, and we were the only two there that early in the morning. I did a quick online form, watched an entertaining (and informative!) video about bear safety, and, at long last, received my little green hang tag that marked me as a thru-hiker. I would see hundreds of these tags along trail and felt incredibly proud to bear the mark of attempting something great.
The arch marking the beginning of the AT approach trail is an iconic site. The warm shade of the stones, the miles to Katahdin posted nearby, the stairs heading up behind it, it all seemed to beckon the travelers that arrive at its stoop. “Come,” it said. “There’s a whole world waiting for you.”
I wasn’t sure how I’d feel, crossing through that stone arch on the first steps of this journey. I wouldn’t have been shocked if I cried. But instead, I took a breath, and stepped through, and just kept walking, an act which would become a reoccurring theme in a matter of hours.
Everyone talks about the stairs at Amicalola being the worst. And yes, they were tough. But the rest of the 9 miles isn’t exactly a cake walk either. I think the approach trail serves as a good kick-in-the-seat reminder of just what exactly we signed up for. A reminder that it’s not going to be easy, and it’s not supposed to be.
That first night was glorious. After a hiker Thanksgiving dinner (instant mashed potatoes, stuffing, a packet of gravy powder and craisins, thank me later), we gathered at the shelter around a slightly overzealous campfire and met folks from all walks of life, no pun intended.
Some college kids studying every type of engineering you could imagine (hey y’all, if you’re reading this! Hope you enjoyed the rest of your spring break!!), some folks just finishing another thru-hike, and a decent number of fellow AT thru-hikers, some of whom I would become good friends with in the days to follow!
My dad slept in the tent and I in my hammock. It was chilly but not unbearable. We had only planned about 8 miles per day for the next few days, so when the morning came and the rain was still coming down, we got to have a little bit of a lie in. Not a bad way to start a birthday!
Day Two
My first official day in the AT was, in fact, my birthday. I made instant coffee in the rain and scooped peanut butter from the jar for breakfast and it was AWESOME. What a way to kick off a new year and a new adventure!!
The chilly morning rain had mostly cleared up by the time we got hiking. The day ahead of us wasn’t going to be too long, and we trekked along at a decent clip and arrived with plenty of sunlight left. The campsite we stayed at was gorgeous, the afternoon light casting long shadows from the trees.
It was sunny and a little windy, so we were able to quickly dry out anything that had gotten a little soggy the night before. Dinner that night was a bastardized version of Pad Thai with three primary ingredients: ramen, peanut butter, and hot sauce. Maybe it was birthday luck or just pure talent, but the proportions aligned perfectly to make the best, trashiest Pad Thai I’ve ever had.
My dad also surprised me with birthday brownies my stepmom had made, complete with a candle I got to make a wish on. What a treat!! We were joined in celebration by two friends we had met at the shelter the previous night, and I felt so lucky to have already met people willing to celebrate a near stranger in the middle of the woods.
I ran up the ridge to get some cell signal before bed and was greeted by texts from so many friends and family, it was the perfect end to an amazing first official day. Soon enough, the light started to fade and all of us were tucked into bed by 9pm, colloquially known as hiker midnight.
Day Three
Day three arrived with clear skies and another 8ish mile day. There was one climb in the middle of the day that took a bit of effort, but again the miles flew by and we arrived to the shelter around 2:30pm. It was already quite busy, with hikers sat around the picnic table and other setting up their tents down the way.
Because I had a hammock, finding a site that would accommodate my dads and my sleep systems was a bit challenging. I contemplated cowboy camping (setting up your sleeping pad and bag and sleeping under the stars) but quickly, after a round of introductions at the adjacent picnic table, decided that night would be my first in a shelter.
Dinner was a delicious instant rice and lemon pepper tuna combo with, of course, hot sauce to top it all off. There were a few familiar faces at the shelter but also lots and lots of new ones! This was the busiest I had seen a shelter, and as everyone prepared dinner there was laughed and chatter and talk of mile goals for tomorrow and food storage techniques.
Pretty immediately, and based on prior backpacking trips, I knew that these evening moments would be my favorite part of this journey. Yes, I do love hiking (most of the time), but more than that I really love the people.
The Appalachian Trail is an incredibly unique environment where folks from all walks of life join and live an experience together, be it for a weekend or all 2,190 miles. They say misery loves company, and that remains true on a journey where misery becomes commonplace, but with the right people the wins become all the sweeter, too.
The folks I met on night three would quickly become foundational to my hike. Even now, as I write this post, I’m in a motel room with two of the people who sat at the picnic table with me and talked for hours.
One thing about staying in a shelter that I would come to learn is that folks are quite literally in bed and sometimes asleep by the time the sun goes down. That first shelter night, as everyone had closed their eyes and gotten cozy, I struggled to regulate my temperature, taking off and putting on layers, and listening to my audiobook in the hopes it would lull me to sleep. Alas, my trail body clock had not yet been established, and I was up for a few hours before my regular bedtime arrived and I finally drifted into the great deep expanse of sleep.
Day Four
The morning came quickly. Unfortunately, though my body was still on my regular schedule, there were miles to go and I had to get up early to hike them. I had survived my first shelter stay, with nary a mouse in sight (for me, at least.)
We were up early that morning, as Dad was leaving that day and we had 5 miles to his drop off and I was hopeful for another 7 after that. It was a gorgeous day, a bit chilly to start but as the sun rose and we moved our legs up and down the hillsides we warmed up quickly.
Again, the miles flew by quickly, and before I knew it we were at Woody Gap, from where I was to go forth on my own. We had prepped a resupply in the car, which meant I didn’t have to go into town or spend any money. If you’ve got the chance to do something like this, I highly recommend it! Took all of the decision making out of my first resupply and took about 30 minutes of total off trail time.
It was hard, leaving my dad. He has been my travel buddy my entire life, and took me on my first backpacking trip when I was 13. We both had tears in our eyes as we hugged goodbye, and parted ways. It was time for me to begin my own adventure, alone.
I will say, nothing fuels a speedy day of hiking quite like an emotional gut-punch. It was ambitious, almost doubling my daily miles thus far, but the terrain was pretty floaty and the miles went by swiftly.
All day I had been prepping myself for the ascent up Blood Mountain, whose incline had been whispered about in fear in the days prior. Using my audiobook as a distraction device, I locked in and began the climb with the goal of completing the 1.3 mile climb in an hour.
It was a warm day, and with every step I told myself “Slow down if you need, but don’t stop.” And I didn’t.
I reached a flatter section of terrain and, convinced this was the tiny dip in the elevation map about half way up the mountain, pulled out my phone to double check. To my amazement, I was a mere .1 from the top! My distraction and one-step-at-a-time technique had worked, and I practically sprinted the rest of the way to the stone shelter and gorgeous views from the top. With 15 mins to spare in my one hour time goal, I laid in the sun and took a moment to appreciate my accomplishment, and appreciate that it was done.
The day was far from over, however. I still had a few miles downhill to make it to the outfitter at Neel Gap before they closed at 5. And so off I went.
The uphills in hiking are often complained about, but almost every long distance hiker I know prefers the steady uphill push to the jolting, knee-breaking descents, and the descent down Blood Mountain was certainly no joke. The rock-hewn stairs and steep switchbacks made for slower going than I had planned. However, before I knew it I was one mile away, and set myself a 15 minute goal to complete it.
With that being said, apologies to anyone I snuck up on in that one mile (shoutout to Fancy Pants, who I practically ran past and hopefully didn’t startle too much). At just 3 minutes past the 15 minute goal, I took the final step onto the road crossing at the bottom of the hill.
Just like that, I had made it to Neel Gap.
They say about a quarter of people who attempt a thru-hike quit by the time they hit Neel Gap. I had made it, and I was not quitting anytime soon.
I arrived before anyone I knew, and made acquaintances with the other stinky hikers with huge packs that were seated outside at the picnic tables. Awaiting my hiking group to decide if we would push on a few miles to a campsite or stay at the Mountain Crossing Hostel, I went inside the store and ordered a $10 pizza.
You heard me right. For $10, you can purchase a frozen pizza and the folks at Mountain Crossing will pop it in the oven for you and deliver it right to your seat at the picnic tables outside. Every. Single. Hiker. That I was with that afternoon got at LEAST one of these frozen pizzas and I will say, probably the best $10 I’ve spent on trail yet.
Soon enough, half of a pizza in my stomach, my group started to roll in, and the decision was very quickly made to stay at the hostel and take in the luxury of a shower, laundry, and sleeping inside.
As the washer ran and we all sat around in our rain jackets and pants, the official uniform of the thru-hiker laundry day, we laughed and talked and planned for the days ahead, which included deciding if we would stay on trail the upcoming weekend.
You see, a storm was rolling in. Not a scattered-showers-lower-temps storm, no, a 75-mph-thunder-and-lightning storm. We made two unofficial plans: one in the event the weather forecast remained ominous, one in the event it cleared and we felt safe staying in the woods.
After the laundry was done, lights out came quickly and the wear and tear of what ended up being a 15 mile day set in. I was asleep nearly before my head hit the pillow.
Day Five
We awoke the next morning with miles on our minds and a pep in our steps, both situations that were swiftly met with a rather steep climb out of Neel Gap that humbled me for about an hour. Glad I hadn’t made that ascent the night before after a full day of hiking, I found myself alone for the first time on trail.
I spent much of the day alone, catching up to my trailmate Diva after a bit. Diva and I had met a few nights before and we hiked together for a bit before he eventually pulled ahead. My trail legs had yet to come in (and won’t for a while yet) so I was much slower on the uphills than he was.
When I found myself alone, I would hum or sing, and on the especially brutal uphills, put on my audiobook to distract myself from the absolutely sludge-y pace I would take.
After another long day of hiking, I arrived at the shelter around 2:45, which became pretty standard timing for me. Establishing my space in the shelter as my first camp chore for the evening, the hikers started to roll in at an almost constant clip.
Diva had made it to the shelter before me, alongside two hiker I hadn’t yet met. The forecast called for rain, and as Squeak and Jolly arrived (two other hikers I had been traveling with), we all huddled under the shelter’s canopy and waited for the rain. Which, of course, never came. After about an hour and a half, the campground was still dry and more people from previous nights on trail had arrived.
Dinner was a hiker recipe semi-affectionately known as a ramen bomb, which entails a packet of ramen mixed with instant mashed potatoes to create one of the densest, calorie packed and filling trail meals to refuel after a day of hiking.
Hiker midnight arrived and the darkness set in, but that night the moon was incredibly bright and a few times I woke up thinking someone was shining their headlamp into the shelter only to realize it was the gorgeous luminescence of the moon watching over us.
I slept well that night, and upon waking realized I was one of the only people who did. My advice to anyone hiking and staying in or even around a shelter: bring ear plugs. Not just your earbuds to play music but true and proper ear plugs that ward off any unwanted noise at night. I’ve used mine every night on my hike so far and am ever grateful for the sleep I’ve gotten because of them.
It’s a very unique experience, sleeping alongside strangers like you’re best buddies and sharing space and air and nighttime noises. You get a lot of snorers and, yes, even sleep screamers, especially when there are mice involved. But the bliss that ear plugs provide have given me consistently solid nights of sleep.
Day Six
When the morning arrived, my trailmate Squeak woke me up as we had another big mileage day ahead. The sun was far from rising, and we packed up our gear in the red-light glow of head lamps so as to avoid waking the other hikers. Squeak was out first, ever the early riser, followed by Diva who was by far the fastest of us, and Jolly and I followed them out.
Headlamps illuminated the path in front of us. It was my first real experience hiking in the dark, and I was super glad Jolly was there because it was, admittedly, spooky. I felt like anywhere I turned, my headlamp would shine on a bear waiting to get me or a madman amongst the trees, so I kept my head down and my light on Jolly’s feet walking in front of me.
We chatted through the first few miles, and as the sky began to lighten we turned our heads to the horizon and I saw my first real Georgia sunrise. Now, having experienced many a sunrise in my time, I believe that Virginia has the best sunrises and sunsets. Consistently gorgeous, colorful, bright. That being said, the Georgia sunrise I saw that morning was breathtaking. Solid, deeply colored bands across the sky and the mountains in such dark contrast. It was the perfect greeting to the day after the few hours of dark.
Jolly and I trekked on through the morning. Then, we came across some hikers traveling in the other direction. And we were delivered the best news. Trail magic lay ahead, just down the hill.
For those not familiar with trail magic, it can take many forms but almost always involves everyday people doing very generous and kind things for hikers, often involving food, a thru-hikers favorite thing.
On this particular day, the trail magic came in the form of bratwursts. As we arrived to the parking lot at the bottom of the hill, we were given freshly cooked bratwurst with ketchup, mayo, mustard, relish, coffee and water. What a treat! The trail angel (that’s what we call the folks providing the magic) was named Son Driven, a chatty man who had hiked a number of years ago and wanted to give back to the hiking community.
Diva arrived before us but we saw him for a few minutes, and we also caught up with UFO, a New Zealander whose incredibly lanky stature and silver reflective umbrella earned him his trail name. We spent about 20 minutes talking to Son Driven and the other hikers, and fueled up for the climb we had ahead of us, which was a bit of a big one for our still weak legs.
I popped the earbuds in for that ascent too, and took it step by step up Tray Mountain. The 2.5 mile climb went smoothly, and fortunately I learned earlier that smaller, more frequent steps were way more efficient than trying to take larger steps up the incline.
I arrived to the top of Tray Mountain alone, but Jolly and a section hiker Little Chef met me at the top a mere 10 minutes later. We sat for a moment and a few more hikers passed through before we hightailed the .6 downhill to our shelter for the night.
When we arrived at Tray Mountain Shelter, Diva and Squeak had set up camp already and were talking to Ridgerunner Chris, who was warning us about the incoming weather. Up until that point, we were unsure if we’d get off trail or not, but when Ridgerunner Chris told us the Ridgerunners were being pulled of trail, we knew it would be unsafe and unsmart to try and stick out the storm. So Squeak, our resident planner, got to work while Jolly and I set up our gear in the shelter.
We had lots of company for dinner that night, including Walkabout, an Australian gentleman with some very interesting stories of hiking down under, and Galloway (that’s his real name, not trail name, how cool) from New Hampshire with a little stuffed lemur called Miles, which was fitting.
I made ramen with a spicy miso soup base which was phenomenal and tucked myself into bed as the sun began to set.
Day Seven
My 7th day on trail began looking like an apocalypse. The wind was howling, the rain spattered on the metal shelter roof. The fog that had rolled in overnight made me feel like I was in a horror movie. The ambience wasn’t aided by the red lights from our headlamps as we all packed up.
We hiked out before sunrise yet again, the visibility so low that even our headlamps barely sliced through the hazy darkness.
At this point, it was taking my knees a bit longer to warm up in the mornings, and Jolly, Squeak and I kept our pace while Diva rocketed ahead. Jolly is an Eagle Scout, and kept us entertained with call and response songs on the chilly morning.
This morning we also happened to run across the first of many fantastic signs on the trail: Swag of the Blue Ridge. Now, if that doesn’t perfectly describe me, I don’t know what does!
The sun began to rise but the fog stayed, as it never got warm enough to burn off. On a particularly unpleasant uphill we all split up a bit. We met up at the top and made sure we all knew our plan for the day, to make it to a road gap where we could grab a ride into town from Jolly’s dad who was bringing him a resupply that day.
As we proceeded downhill, I found myself hiking alone in the still eerie conditions. I sang to myself and hiked quickly, fending off the cold and any potential ghouls (or bears) that awaited me in the fog. Eventually, as I got further and further below the treeline, the sun shown stronger and the day became clearer.
And then, as welcoming as an open hearth on a cold night, I heard the sound of cars passing. The gap was close!
I quickened my pace and found Diva settled into a chair and an INSANE trail magic setup.
A full breakfast buffet was set out, complete with a handwashing station, coffee, fruit, and snacks we could pack out with us!
After loading my plate with eggs, a biscuit cooked in bacon grease, hashbrowns, and sausage, I found a chair by the campfire (yep, campfire in a portable fire ring too. This may have been my favorite part of the entire morning, as even my quick descent had left me still shivering against the cold and damp!).
The group hosting this breakfast had been doing it for 5 years since a buddy of theirs hiked and they learned about how unique and special the thru-hiking community was.
We chatted with them, met some aspiring future thru-hikers, and ate delicious food!
As noon approached, they began to pack up and we helped load cars. Just then, Jolly’s dad arrived, and we were able to grab a photo with our gracious hosts before Jolly’s dad so kindly loaded our stinky hiker selves into his car and we made our way into Hiawasee.
It came as no surprise that many of the hotels were fully booked, with lots of hikers getting off trail for the storm. Jolly and his dad had a room at a hotel that had no more availability, but kindly they drove us to another spot where Squeak, Diva and I split a room for our first night in town since starting the trail.
While we waited for our room to be ready, we went to the nearby grocery store and restocked our food for the next few days. I was (and still am) learning how to manage eating enough without carrying more weight than I needed, and poor Diva followed me around the grocery store helping me plan as I had made no list and had no idea how long it would be to our next resupply.
Eventually, the snacks and dinners and 2 liters of Diet Coke were purchased, and we made our way back to the safety and warmth of our hotel room before the rain began.
We took turns showering and, while our laundry was in, donned our rain gear in classic thru-hiker fashion. We lazed around, I almost fell asleep on the floor while listening to my podcast, and we organized and reorganized our packs.
The clean laundry arrived as a true luxury, especially after so many days and nights of pulling on the same sweaty clothing that never dried overnight in the backcountry.
After the cleanliness needs had been met, our hiker hunger set in, which meant only one thing: dinner.
Jolly and his dad picked us up again, and we went to a semi-local (regional perhaps? I’d never seen one before but have since come across a few in Georgia and North Carolina). Squeak got a calzone and a salad that I scored the olives from, Diva and I got a meat lovers pizza, and Jolly and his dad got a massive barbecue chicken pizza. We all ate like kings that night, and laughed at stories of trail time and our lives before the trails.
When we left, we were the only people still in the place, and the cooks and servers gave us smiles and waves as we headed out. We weren’t sure when we’d see Jolly again, as he was staying a bit longer and we were hiking out the next morning, so we got a photo of our little squad outside the hotel before turning in for the night.
It was so nice to not sleep in a sleeping bag, and we all fell asleep quickly in the splendor a quiet, climate controlled room.
My first week on trail was full of physical and metaphorical highs and lows, so many amazing people, and almost exactly 70 miles of hiking. And it was only the start.
Until next time,
M
