1. Planting Mines in the Forest

Person of the week: the foreboding shuttle driver

(The Person of the week section will usually announce some person of significance—almost always someone that showed us great unsolicited kindness—who gets introduced in the post. After all, the many friendly people we encountered were the main reasons our trip was successful and enjoyable; for all my self-deprecating sarcasm, I’m very thankful for those who helped us and want to recognize them here. That being said, I don’t have anyone overly noteworthy for this week because the story below precedes our arrival on the trail.)

As is usually the case with horribly misguided endeavors, the issues began early—long before we ever laid eyes on the Appalachian Trail. Like a minefield, planted far in advance but lying dormant til the right time to cause catastrophic damage, many of our struggles-to-be were planted during our preparation in the weeks leading up to the hike.

Most—if not all—of these struggles stemmed from our decision on the duration of the trip. Before the hike, neither of us had ever camped for more than one night at a time, and relatively few times at that. Guided by ignorance, we sat on the couch in my dorm one day and googled common section hikes on the southern end of the AT.

We had a few criteria:

• The Tennessee portion wasn’t an option, as I’d just bought a new tent and, in the state of Tennessee, non thru-hikers were required to sleep in the campsite shelters.
• We needed to go somewhere accessible by Greyhound or Megabus, as we were trying to save as much as possible on travel.
• We needed to go somewhere relatively well-documented online, as we had no idea what we were doing.

All the stars aligned when we discovered the Georgia section. There was a trail club website with much of the information we needed in one place (which also sold iron-on patches for us to purchase in victory after our success (https://georgia-atclub.org/ — I highly recommend it)), we could bus into Atlanta for pretty cheap and shuttle up to the trailhead, and the combination of distance (78.2 miles—we hit the 100 mile mark through a series of mishaps and poor decisions) and hiking an entire state section sounded appropriately impressive for telling our friends about. The following paraphrased interaction sealed the deal:

 

Me: “Dude, Chan, there’s even an approach trail we could tack on to add some extra mileage.”

Chandler: “That sounds hype man. Let’s do it.”

 

An email from one of the shuttle drivers I contacted accurately reflects the wisdom of our decision (emphasis added):

 

Hi, Hutton,

I can get you at [t]he Greyhound station and take you to Amicalola falls, or to the top of Springer mt. thereby eliminating a very tough 8 miles of approach trail. lately I’ve picked up three guys who blew out their knee on that trail and had to quit, so you can start at either spot: Amicalola Falls, or Springer Mt., my shuttle fee is $150. Deep Gap Back to Atlanta, $220. I can carry four, bring friends to share the cost.

 

Nonetheless, another shuttle driver—the one we ended up using—had significantly lower rates, so of course I felt justified in disregarding this man’s warning. If I couldn’t trust his prices, how could I trust his trail knowledge? That being said, our actual shuttle driver later echoed the warning while driving us to the trailhead; apparently it’s widely accepted in the area that the approach trail is a no-go.

With no real supporting evidence whatsoever, we hypothesized that we could comfortably manage 10 miles per day. Accommodating for travel and other nuances, we rounded up to 10 days as a sufficient time window. Looking back on our pre-trip conversations with friends, I’m pretty sure we were the only people who didn’t realize how long that is.

Content with our 10 days, we went about finding time when we would both be available. There was one minor caveat: Chandler was spending 5 weeks in Australia on a mission trip. Because responsibilities for the school year came up for me shortly after his return, we decided to squeeze it in immediately after he got back. How bad could the jetlag be? (pretty bad) With dates set, we booked our trip with Greyhound.

Chandler flew off to Australia, and most of the planning was left to my expertise. I borrowed and bought gear, planned meals and bought the food, set a day-to-day schedule, arranged shuttle rides, and all the other things that go with planning a backpacking trip that I’ve long since forgotten. Upon his return, we grabbed a quick breakfast with his parents who, up til then, thought the whole thing had been a joke and, realizing he had been serious all along, vehemently opposed his participation. Having reassured them with my extensive knowledge, we shouldered our packs, walked up and back down a set of stairs on campus to prove we could carry them 100 miles, and headed out to the Greyhound station around 4 a.m.