Georgia to Maine:

                    Well that was the intention anyway. I will not go into full detail of the trek as that would be a book in itself. To summarize, I made it to Amicalola Falls in the latter stages of April 1985. We were to begin our trek the first week in May. I had taken a day to view the falls and the area surrounding the Southern Terminus which would be the first leg of our new journey. The falls were impressive and somewhat intimidating as I recall. The full cascade of the falls drops some 729 feet, with a small bridge walkway just shy of the mid-point for viewing.  It was a magnificent view relatively larger than some falls I have had the opportunity to see in previous treks in Oregon. By comparison to places like Multnomah Falls, which drops I believe around 620 feet  and Silver Falls being much smaller, as well as the many other smaller falls around the Crater Lake Region out there. I spent the next couple days re-vamping my gear, and double checking all the itinerary items that had taken months to put together including contacting drop points for verifications, etc.  The ‘old adage of “making the list, and checking it twice” yah...more like checking it every day…I was attempting to lighten the overall weight of the pack load, in hopes to lessen the strain on the first leg of the trek. Many had said, the first leg which is a challenge in itself will either make you or break you as to your decision to push onward. So my attempt was to increase the odds to my favor. Within the next couple of days the rest of the crew I was to embark with had arrived, along with a great deal many others planning to hike the A/T. Everyone had their own plans, ideas, advice, and so forth, but having done my research, I was not to inclined to follow someone else’s ideals and stray from months of planning. It took but another day or so for the others to pack ready, and confirm the itinerary, and we were off.

 The approach to the Southern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail at Springer Mountain winds 7.3 miles following ridges and streams in a steady ascent to the top of the mountain, and I do mean ascent. This was to be the first taste of what to expect along the longest stretch of mountainous terrain on the East Coast. There is more than one approach to the terminus gateway, but all seem to have one thing in common...that was the direction “up”. It wasn’t but mile number four before I began to understand the aforementioned statement about making or breaking you, for this was truly going to be a test of will and commitment given firsthand samplings of what was to come.

I met a great deal many hikers, from all classes, races, and ethnicities on the trails, found small hostiles with caring individuals more than willing to lend a hand, offer up a good hot meal and shower, many of the smaller communities along the way cater specifically to the thru hikers that use the trails throughout the year. There are shops catering to equipment, foods, almost any possible need you may have along the journey. There are those areas as well that are not so forthcoming with supplies, etc. and tend to charge more for services and goods than they probably should, but then again, they know they have you by the short hairs as it were. Luckily in the pre stages of planning, etc. we were able to secure many guides and informational packets regarding these areas, and what to expect along the many miles ahead. There are a great many having trekked the A/T prior, more than eager to write guides, and offer up advice, etc. for those new to the trails.

The first few days were pretty much uneventful...Just miles put behind us one step at a time. We had begun conversing from day one and hadn’t stopped in over a week. In its own way, a built in defense mechanism.  If we were focused on conversation, we were less likely to complain and feel the soreness that was settling into our bodies. We had become a unit, a close unit within the confines of our personal spaces and relationships. We learned the histories, reasons, and a great deal more of one another. By this time, the subject had come up about trail names. Seems the traditional ways of the hikers was to receive a trail name that was bestowed by others on trail. It didn’t matter what your real name was or if you had a previous alias...you were going to be called what they wanted you to be called. At the time of my trek, my hair was long in the back and somewhat non-existent on top. I had a major receding hairline, and had gone unshaven for months. So I was a bit rough, ragged and scruffy. Most of that time in the early stages of the trek, I wore a brown leather duster style overcoat, and a brown western Hawkwood hat, as the temps were somewhat frigid at that time of year trailside.

( a Hawkwood Hat )

 At one point during the evening, I had come from behind some bush, apparently startling the others. It came out that they had assumed I was a bear tromping the area, and were ready for an all out assault on my emergence from the bush. From that point on, I had become tagged, and known as Grizz. I had my trail name bestowed in mutual agreement from the others. So that is the story of coming to be known as Grizz.

We hiked, and hiked and hiked some more, the routine had settled in and had become somewhat boring at times, taxing even the best of us. You do learn a great deal about tolerance, commitment, and it almost becomes your way of life with the same daily grind day in and day out. This was to be the first true test of one’s will. Your mind begins to play games with you, you run different scenarios through your mind over and over, and you make up games to occupy your mind and draw your focus away from the exhaustion, and slightest pains that seem endless. Somehow though at day’s end, you manage to reflect on the many issues past and future you will have to contend with as you continue to push forward, having reached the daily destination, you unwind, relax and at times flat out collapse. It affords calmness, harmony, and even periods of euphoria. Once camp has been set, or if fortunate enough to have space in one of the many shelters along the way, it’s a time to connect once again with the stray hikers coming thru the area whether just passing on into the next leg of the trail or stopping for the overnight.

If you can imagine a classic race, its much the same on trail. Those hikers whom you may have left with, may push ahead of you at times, but eventually you catch up to their locations and even tend to pass them by on occasion as well. You play this passerby game throughout the entire trek, though not always intentionally. Weather, and physical condition are huge factors while on trail, and it doesn’t take much to capsize your plans for the day in an instant. Others or yourself, may take additional time off trail in some local town having come off the mountains for resupply, medical, or other reasons as well. No matter the reasons, eventually you all connect again at some point. It helps keep it interesting as well. Occasionally you get word of less fortunate circumstances too, someone having to come off trail for injuries, or having some altercation or trouble while in town, etc. But those are usually few in nature.