Leaving Springer (February 20, 2011)

"Please don't tell anyone but this is my first night out in the woods alone." Yikes, 4/16/11, Jim and Molly Denton Shelter

Great conversation can stave off feelings of loneliness. It can take you to a good place quickly. It often drops you back where you were but it can be a balm for minutes or hours. Especially when it's your first scary night in the woods.

Dawn in Georgia (March 1, 2011)

I woke up in a hotel with my parents in Gainesville, Georgia and wasted no time
getting straight to dawdling. I had stayed up really late cramming everything into my backpack and then spent plenty of extra time fiddling with it in the morning. Mom, Dad and I then went for a late breakfast at IHOP after an hour shower. How long is the wait? I asked. Thirty minutes, Mom said. I've got nothing to do today, I thought. Why not?

We off-road on a forest road to get near Springer Mountain. Inconceivable you say that there is no easy way to get to the beginning of the Appalachian Trail? There is a 9 mile or so approach trail, one that isn't a part of the Appalachian Trail, that leads you to Springer. Apparently it was created by sadists for masochists. I convinced my parents to drop me off 1 mile north of Springer. I wanted no part of the extra 9 miles.

I've awoken for the journey of a lifetime, with nothing else on the agenda, and yet I still haven't begun at 3:00pm. But it's an early 3:00pm. I'm five hours late to being two hours late and I'm terrified of hiking in the dark. I scramble through my Appalachian Trail Companion.

 http://www.aldha.org/companyn.htm

I discover there is a shelter just about 3 miles north of Springer. I kiss Mom and Dad, take the requisite bon voyage photo and hike the wrong way to Maine. My initial impression of being alone was a thrill.

I passed three characters on the way to Springer (one would end up being my hiking partner). When I made it to what seemed to be the end of the trail I asked two gentlemen where Springer was. Right in front of you, one said. I looked at the lusterless plaque commemorating the beginning of the trail, said goodbye to the two strangers and left unimpressed. It must be miserable to end here with the anticlimactic, gentle climb to a piece of stone with a bloodless view. Leaving northbound was my first wise decision.

After reclaiming the same mile I had just walked, now aiming my compass north, the trail turned serene. Everything was dead-leaf brown and the lack of undergrowth allowed a deep view into the forest.

I made it to the first shelter and met four other thru-hikers, the three I passed on my way to Springer, and another guy from Missouri. Everyone is young, 24 or under. Everyone is either taking time off school or taking time off from thinking about going to college one day. These are men unlike me--young, optimistic and immortal. They are trailblazers and pioneers. My only distinguishing characteristic from day one is that I'm 200 pounds.

So we talk for several hours sharing our hopes about the trail. We strongly note our fears and inexperience. No one seems to be a veteran hiker. We're all novices. I can't wait to be out of this introductory phase and want to skip straight to the part where I'm a mountain man. But the conversation reassures me that we're all here for a potentially transcendent journey. That offers me some much-needed patience.

Only 2,178.2 miles to go. I haven't shit in the woods yet, either. This is on my mind.