On February 28, 2016, I nervously finished my breakfast at the Hiker Hostel along with about 20 other people. I was about to start a NOBO hike of the Appalachian Trail. I’d spent months and months neurotically planning, buying equipment, returning equipment, rebuying the originals, and the even returning some of it.
The people at customer service at the Paradise Valley REI were patiently dealing with me, but I knew I was at about their limit. Amazon started charging me for returns. Honestly. I was literally trading excellent for excellent. In reality, the choices of backpacking gear available now compared to 1985 when I started backpacking are amazing.
So, I had arrived at Hiker Hostel the day after flying into Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, taking the the MARTA to the last stop, North Spring Station, and then getting a shuttle to Dahlinega, close to Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the AT. While waiting for the shuttle, I met Jeffrey (soon to be JFree) and his dog, Pi which is the shortened version, everyday nickname, of Pi’s official name, Maple Apple Pi although I wouldn’t bet my life on that order being right. Maybe it was Apple Maple Pi. Not really sure as we’d all become fast friends and Pi was adequate. As we limbered along to the Hiker Hostel, we all nervously chattered about backpacking gear and how much or how little experience we had on the trail.
We were all nervous except for Pi.
Breakfast at the Hiker Hostel had been a beautiful selection of Southern cuisine – bacon, sausage, eggs, biscuits and gravy, and a giant bowl of grits. Everyone was still nervously chattering away, continuing the evening before’s discussion of gear and gear and weight of gear. One person, Baby Chick from Maryland, seemed to have missed the memo and arrived with a full set of Walmart camping gear. She sat in amazement as people argued the finer points of ULA vs. ZPacks, Osprey vs. Gossamer Gear, and Big Agnes vs. anything since the BA Fly Creek 2 was the tent of choice for almost 1/3 of those nervously chattering away. I felt good since my tent was the BA – essentially the “It Tent” of 2016. My Merrill Moab Ventilators also left me feeling quite prepared as they were a popular shoe choice. No boots for me, thank you. I’d read and read and read every AT blog, dived into every AT book, and watched hours and hours of Shitfoot and other AT vloggers. I read Appalachian Trials, AWOL (the book and the guide), Bill Bryson’s book, and about a dozen more. I was prepared as I could be and all the endless chattering and my very self-satisfied chattering left me feeling that I was ready to go with all the right gear.
Then, as I was downing my grits and second cup of coffee, I looked out the window, and holy shit, it was snowing. The breakfast chattering came to an abrupt end. In very short time, we’d load in the van and head to the trail about a mile north of Springer and the southern terminus.
The ride in the van was silent except for some guy who had never backpacked and had already devised a 3-year plan to hike the big 3 and be a triple crowner. I never saw him after we got dropped off, in the snow, and me wondering why I thought it was so vital to avoid the dreaded bubble. Maybe he just headed straight north as he clearly has an agenda to complete. He had a cowboy hat which seemed wildly unsuited for the current conditions.
I, along with my van mates, headed south towards Springer and southern terminus monument. We all took turns posing for pics and selfies proudly and then headed north. To Maine.
Within 15 minutes of the official start of my official NOBO AT thru hike, I tripped on a root (can any AT hiker not relate?) and, after some very awkward twisting and contorting, landed flat on my ass. Little did I know that was one of many falls on my 2016 attempt at a thru hike.
Falling, despite all the right gear, is humbling, very humbling when you are just steps north of the southern terminus monument.
Although I did a little less than 500 miles on that attempt, 484 miles I think is what I did, it was some of the best times of my life. I met some of the best people I’ve ever met, slept in some of the biggest dives I’ve ever seen, met Ron Haven (Budget Inns), and learned to be somewhat decent at the dreaded backpacking skill of hanging bear bags.
Tripping Along The Trail 