The sound of ocean waves at the beach awoke me. The wind swishing by tree branches was captured, echoed, and scattered by the back of the shelter to create the undulating white noise effect of a sequence of crashing waves. The alpine ocean, they could call it. Hiker’s paradise?
Enjoy the water
Today’s minor dilemma was this: do I move quickly now because the weather is gorgeous and progress is therefore easy, or do I move slow because the body takes time to adjust and the journey is extremely young? Both have some wisdom, but I decided the latter has more. So I walked slowly and enjoyed the water.
Water is everywhere out east. Water oozes from the ground every mile or so along the trail. Even higher up on these mountains, springs are plentiful. At low points, where the water collects and multiplies, these headwater streams are impressive.
Where all of this water meets a tough bed of Georgia limestone, the result is a classic, classy Southeast waterfall.
Trail terminus
Though short in absolute statue, the hills of Georgia are imposing. Slanting up at the Emerson fault, they jut above a low plain (creating the lovely Amicalola falls – yesterday’s photo). Atop the fault runs a long ridge above a half mile high. I am camped at a low point at 2800′. The trail officially starts at Springer Mountain, a local high point of 3786′ on this ridge. No obvious reason exists why the trail must begin there, In fact, the Appalachian Mountains continue into Alabama. For that matter, they also continue into Canada. Since the Appalachians predate the Atlantic Ocean, the same orogenic event created the mountains of Scandinavia, so the trail could continue up there. Regardless of the somewhat arbitrary nature of endponuts at Spinger and Katahdin, it is fun and unique that the Appalachian trail does not start and end at trailheads. It begins and ends at two prominent mountain summits, establishing it as a trail that clings to high points and (usually) follows the ridge of greatest altitude through the east.
Pines and people
Much of the low elevation portion of today’s hike wound through tall pines, their green boughs a lovely respite from the general brownness of late winter. I found myself thinking of the rather mysteries lyric from “Young and Free” by Dermot Kennedy: “held me brand new in the silence that went through the pine.” For some reason, it felt right. The pines were filled with silence, sheltered from wind, lacking in people. Someone I met said “there is a whole bunch of through-hikers ahead of you,” and on the afternoon climb out of the pines, I met a number of them.
There are far more stories of wonderful interactions with people than I will be able to share.
I met Cornchip, who I probably won’t see again but will remember. He had clearly found his happy place on the trail when he hiked it in 2017 and was brimming over with exuberance to be out again. He encouraged me to take pictures of the people I spend time with, not just the places I see. Good advice. .
Hank was an army vet who served in the Iraq and Gulf Wars and was stationed in Korea and Germany. He had retired and was probably 70, but was pushing himself on a new adventure. He said he was tired because “this morning, I felt my youth come back and ran up and down a hill.”
Rosie offered me cut oranges and friendly conversation passing through Hightower Gap. Trail magic they call it!
I am camped with Sandman: an English gentleman. He has a classically Engliah humorous pessimism (how will they pay for the NHS? How will they make all that electricity for those electric cars? How will the British pension system function with fewer young people paying in? Why is American health insurance such a headache?). We talked about history and global affairs all evening until Sandman said “that’s enough geopolitics for tonight” and that was that.
Beautiful country, interesting people.