Sweet Caroline

Yesterday I crossed into North Carolina. One state down, thirteen more to go. Only Georgia didn't go down without a fight.

She left most of my morning's work uphill: about 1200 feet of elevation gain from my start in Dicks Creek Gap, with plenty of peaks and gaps along the way. Then, just shy of the border while climbing Rocky Knob, she thought it fitting to present an afternoon thunderstorm as a parting gift -- and it was as spectacular as it was brief. Caught on a ridge the lightning began to strike, too close for comfort. Hunkered down with trekking poles abandoned, I anxiously waited. Then the hail began to fall: peas and gumballs and mentos. Yet it soon stopped as abruptly as it began, and I pressed on to the border.

North Carolina welcomed us with a spring and an old, twisted tree. This tree often finds its image in hikers' photo albums, and it reminded me of Yggdraisil from the lore of Norse mythology. It's amazing where your mind can wander while wandering along.

So much for good first impressions. The next mile in NC was another climb of nearly 1000 feet, and the AT reared its never-flat head once again.

There were a few other things that were a part of my border crossing. I learned that my night in the Hiawassee Inn just the night before was only a year (or so) removed from sleeping in a meth house. I also spotted my first Buckeye tree, right next to the AT's Yggdraisil. I had heard rumor of them all throughout Georgia, but they evaded me until now. And I also met "Mark Trail," an older hiker who has section-hiked the AT before. He likes to call me "Buckwheat," because "Buckeye" is too nice and not random enough. I'll look forward to sharing stories with him down the road.

There is one more thing I should mention before I sign off. I can now say I thru-hiked Georgia on the Appalachian Trail.