The worst thing about the Appalachian trail (and as someone who’s journey began well over 36 hours ago, I feel confident in saying this is the worst part) is that the trail actually starts in the middle of the woods. So while I woke up knowing that I only had 8.5 miles to hike, I also woke up knowing those 8.5 miles were not part of the official 2100 miles. Dumb. 

But there was still some pomp and circumstance to look forward to as I packed up. Amicalola State Park is home to the AT approach trail, but they’ve also taken on the responsibility for welcoming new hikers to the trail (even if they’re still 8.5 miles away – not over this. Never will be). So at 8am this morning, I walked down to the welcome center to receive my AT orientation (I watched a video), weigh my pack (officially 33 lbs), and get my photo taken (see below). 

Foggy Lenses (that’s her trail name, not her government name), walked outside with me and took a picture of me in front of the arch which marks the start of the trail (to the real trail). She told me about her current section hike of the trail . Over the past 10 or so years, she had made it up to Virginia, piece by piece. She also said she wasn’t sure if she would ever finish. She’s 77 she said, and wasn’t getting any quicker. She shrugged – “I’m pretty happy with what I’ve done.” She then wished me good luck and sent me on my way. 

The trail climbed a never ending staircase for the first mile before it shifted to the AT I was expecting, single track trail through dense forest. It was beautiful. For 8.5 miles I walked alone, stopping to drink water here, eat a power bar there and chat with a few day hikers who were all very excited to tell me they had seen other thru hikers today! 

I stopped at a stream to filter some water before heading into camp when two guys passed. One waved and kept walking but the other came down. “You know you don’t need to get water here,” he said. 

“Oh nice, but I’m thirsty. I’m just going to grab some here” 

“Yeah but there’s more water ahead.”

“But I’m thirsty now.”

“Up to you. By the way you’re going to be cold tonight if all you have are those shorts.”

“I have pants in my bag”

“If you say so.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just introduced myself and learned he was a former thru hiker who was thinking about doing it again. He was out for a shake down trip – to try out his gear and see if he still liked it. He confirmed his gear was good and yes, he did still like it. He made like he was about to start going through and critiquing all my gear but before he could insult something else I was doing I wished him the best and headed on. 

Just before camp, I summitted mount springer and saw the sign I was looking for. I was finally on the AT. I stopped for selfies with the sign and did a little private celebration. But the wind was whipping and I was cold so I moved on. The next 200 yards I walked, were my first 200 AT yards. But they were also my last of the day as they put me right at the shelter. 

I caught up with Willie – the other guy who had passed me at the shelter. Over peanut butter sandwiches and jerky, he told me he was retired military living in Miami. He had driven up last night and was ready to spend the next few days on the trail before heading back to his wife and kids. 

We sat for a few minutes chatting about our lives and hometowns and such before Willie correctly decided it was time to get a fire going. 

We collected sticks and logs and dry leaves but when it came time to actually light the thing, we couldn’t get it to go. Finally I said “alright, let’s cheat.” I grabbed my camp stove, turned it up to full blast, lit it, and held the flame to the pile before yanking it back quickly. 

The pile burst into flames and we settled into seats around the fire we knew we wouldn’t soon be leaving. Groups came and left. People showed up to set up camp, eat, say hey, or just ask for directions. Pretty soon we had 6 of us sitting around the fire as the temperatures rapidly dropped into the 30s. 

Me, Willie, a dad and son from New Orleans who had come to Georgia in spring so brought nothing but shorts. A woman named Pot Hole who had thru hiked the PCT a few years back and then decided to do this hike because she “got bored.” A data consultant from Salt Lake who had been planning his hike for 5 years and knew exactly where he’d be sleeping every night for the next week or two. A guy from Oklahoma who had flown in this morning and just started walking. And a woman from North Carolina who, funnily enough, had done her basic training in the same fort as Willie had, just many years later. 

As we dat around the campfire eating our dehydrated dinners, much of the conversation revolved around our prep. The woman from North Carolina was taking the cost responsible route. She had done all her shopping on Amazon, used her military sleeping bag and had dehydrated all of her own meals. The consultant had taken the data approach. He had analyzed the weather, his pace, his needs and had found the exact equipment that worked best for him. The test of us were somewhere in between, pairing what we had with REI recommendations and a bit of googling.

Soon the flurries changed to real snow and when even the fire was unable to keep us warm, we called it a night. I crawled into my hammock wearing every layer I had. 

Laying here in 2 pairs of socks, leggings, sweat pants, a t shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a sweatshirt, a down jacket, a down hood, a buff, gloves and a sleeping bag, listening to the sound of more snow falling, I can tell you, it’s cold out there.