a-wandering-gal

[a-wandering-gal]

[a-wandering-gal]

Point A to Point B was quite a journey

[a-wandering-gal]

Making an interactive story about my travels with Twine but need to upload them as web images so about to get a dump of some travels in Puerto Rico! You'll be able to play through the story in a few days!

it involves pirates, hitchhiking, food poisoning a bunch else!

[a-wandering-gal]

Not sure if I already shared this one but I love how weird trees grow when you go deep into the forests. Most state and national parks have some type of forestry workers who maintain trees because these shapes can make these trees unstable. And especially on hiker routes where you have quite a bit of foot traffic, that’s just a no-go so they often get taken down.

But the in-betweens of state and National Parks? Holy crap there are some weird trees. It’s kind of like going into a faerie or fantasy world with the way some grow. Because these trails are only maintained by volunteers, they don’t get near the amount of attention that most of the AT gets. So when you’re there, it feels.. otherworldly.

[a-wandering-gal]

Cold nights, warm fire, warmer company.

[a-wandering-gal]

Mile 50 - the Blood Mountain wilderness. I can say so much about Blood Mountain, from how intimidating its name is to the fact that the climb and the hype around it has made some hikers just quit. I think about 1/4th of all hikers quit around Blood Mountain but I don’t remember the exact statistic and this mountain nearly got me too. I had awful panic attacks because of the way people talked about, the stories of people flying all the way back home, etc. It was hard not to let that get to you even a little.

It’s the tallest mountain peak in Georgia - literally every mile you do up until that point is to condition you for this because after you clear it and if you decide to keep going, you’re almost certainly going to make it out of Georgia and into Tennessee where the real views are.

In reality, Blood Mountain wasn’t really that bad. At least not physically. I found the people who struggled with it the most were those who didn’t start at the Approach Trail, were pulling too many miles too early on, and in general didn’t take the time leading up to Blood Mountain to acclimate to the hike.

The real challenge for me with Blood Mountain was that it was my first encounter with water shortage, something none of the bloggers or books warned me about. Unlike the other mountains which usually had a shelter or camp site somewhere towards or near the peak and a camp site and definitely a water source going down, Blood Mountain had its shelter at the base of the mountain with the next water source 3 miles going up the next peak. So you had no choice but to hike the entire mountain within the day and drink only the water that you filled up on prior to the hike. Aaaaand I ran out within the first mile and a half.

I have an Osprey water bladder that fits nice and snug inside my pack and carries 2.5 liters. It’s great and I love that I can drink water without having to use my hands so I can just hike and walk and stay hydrated.

The downside? I don’t really have any clue as to how much water is left since it’s inside my bag until it’s almost out and it was a hot day so I was really chugging the water without realizing. So I ran out and I still had two miles until my next water source and for the first time since I started my hike, there was no one in sight. This is Georgia in late spring so it is hot and humid. I was so thirsty, I pulled out the water bladder and started licking it for just a few stray drops of that sweet, sweet water. By the time I made it to the water source, I was near tears in joy and drank so much. Water had never tasted so good. But that had been my experience throughout the whole trail thus far - how good fresh spring and ground water tastes. Still, it didn’t compare to this moment. I ran into three other hikers at the water source because everyone else was also equally desperate. No guides ever mention conserving water so early on in the hike, we were all unprepared except for Bourbon Bob who was doing his second thru-hike just cuz.

Yes, my foot swelled up like a balloon from the strain of that day’s hike and my knee killed me but the water was what I remember most. After that, on top of my water bladder, I kept a Smart Water bottle that attached directly to my filter system on the side of my pack like other hikers used, even if it was extra weight - the physical assurance that there was water I could see how much was left was a comfort I now needed.

Also for going to the bathroom in the woods up until that point, I had been using plastic squeeze bidet. But after that experience, I threw it out in favor of toilet paper. The bidet is the smarter and cheaper option in the long run but after over two miles with no water in 90 degree weather, I couldn’t find it in me to justify wasting water to use it.

I feel like one of the reasons people don’t talk about this in guides or blogs is because they start their hike mid-March so it’s not nearly as hot or humid when they reach Blood Mountain. But for those of us who started in mid-April, this and sunburn became problems that no one had been expecting. I’m just grateful I don’t burn easily but even still my cheeks and nose got red from the sun bearing down on us directly since the foliage had yet to fully grow back.

So yeah, Blood Mountain? Not nearly as bad as people make it out to be, don’t let the talk about it scare you away from even trying. It’s intimidating but if you did all the right steps, started off at no more than five miles a day and took your time up until that point, then it’ll physically feel like just another climb. The water thing though? Yeah we need to talk about that.

Stay hydrated folks.

[a-wandering-gal]

[a-wandering-gal]

Hiker Hostel just past sunset

[a-wandering-gal]

Cold nights, warm fire, warmer company.

[a-wandering-gal]

So this blog is going to be a mix of Appalachian Trail photography and beach photography for the next few months with me talking about my experiences. Once my injury forced me off the Appalachian Trail, I went to one of the few physical activities that didn’t worse my injury and helped my balance: surfing and diving and basically anything in the water. So yeah expect lots of photos of my hike and lots of the beach.

Currently, I’m applying for a hiker’s permit to do the John Miur Trail this summer but with how difficult that is to obtain, I’m not holding my breath. If I don’t have the permit by mid-March then I plan to try the Appalachian Trail again but this time go Southbound and flip-flop from my home starting mid-May. Or Northbound possibly starting June depending on this winter and early Spring. My foot is still healing so I want to give it time for me to go out and do a few smaller section hikes as I work to regain my balance and pay off medical bills.

I swear, years of yoga and rock climbing means nothing once I got the Achilles rupture which has essentially left me with the balance of a toddler.

Perhaps I’ll set up a ko-fi to for tips and more photo posts. I have thousands of photos just sitting here but because I have to work, I can’t go through or edit them all. I can’t even afford the Adobe Subscription my income is so bad right now which sucks because all my photos are RAWs outside of the GoPro ones.

Anyways, I’ll keep updating - looking forward to posting and blogging about the past year.

[a-wandering-gal]

So here’s some backpacking advice for any AT thru-hikers that literally saved my hide and extended my trip for longer than I would have lasted otherwise. And I wish someone had told me before I got injured or I could’ve gotten a lot farther than I did. I learned this the hard way on the Appalachian Trail - hike your own hike. Seriously though, because people say it all the time but it’s always dripping with condescension and the pressure to hike the trail and do every single white blaze is heavy because there are people who will make you feel like your hike isn’t legitimate if you don’t. Fuck them.

When I first started my hike, I was intent on being a “purist” hiker and by that I mean, a hiker who only sticks to the white blazes even if it’s longer and more difficult, a hiker who didn’t take shortcuts.

I got injured badly doing that because my body had not yet acclimated to this new lifestyle I took on and the Approach Trail is steep and when you start your hike, your bag is overweight until you figure out what you do or don’t use. So I had to hike backwards several miles and back down Springer mountain of the Approach Trail so I could get a ride into town and see a doctor - all of which made my injury worse.

My driver on the way back to the trailhead, Ron, who hiked the AT twice and was a ranger at these very parks said Fuck that shit, take what’s easier on your body especially on these early days and don’t feel bad about it at all. But I did feel bad and he could tell so instead he told me the story of when he worked those very trails and gave me the best advice possible.

The Approach Trail wasn’t always that steep and Springer Mountain wasn’t mile 0 - the AT started at the stone gate as mile 0. When Ron was working, the Appalachian Trail veered Northeast instead of Northwest which is the steepest part of that side of the mountain. The northeast part is now a trail called the Len Foote Hike Inn Trail because it was bought up and a Hiker Hostel was built there, it’s that much flatter. The reason this easier trail was re-routed was so the trail passed the waterfalls of Amicalola State Park and was more “scenic” even if it was more difficult to hike. I’m from Pennsylvania, this waterfall was a baby and I was unimpressed.

So he told me, this time, when I do the Approach Trail, to go Northeast and take the Len Foot Inn Trail instead which rejoins the Approach just before the shelter. It was flatter, would hurt my foot less, passed by more water sources, and I’d hate myself less the next day. It may be an extra mile of a hike but the flat terrain made up for it he said.

Ron basically sat me down and explained that being a purist didn’t mean shit. Because when he did the trail, the easier hike was the route he had to take but was now a green blazed trail and for us it was made harder in order to appeal to tourists who wanted to see the waterfall. Between time and weather, capitalism and politics — the Appalachian Trail is constantly being re-routed that even if you wanted to be a purist hiker, chances are parts of the hike may be closed off due to a storm or animals or fucking COVID or literally anything. And living and working on a chunk of the AT myself, I also experienced this constantly and knew deep down he was right, I was making this harder for myself and for what? At some point, I would have to skip part of the trail or take an alternate route.

So seeing as I was about to hike this a third time, I took Ron’s advice. I took the easier trail that two decades ago was once an official part of the Appalachian Trail. Did I feel guilty? Fuck no. Ron was right! I hiked those five miles quicker than I hiked the Approach Trail on my healthy foot! It was that much easier. And if I had known this sooner, my god, what a difference it would’ve made.

If you’re ever thinking about hiking the Appalachian Trail, do yourself a favor and don’t do the full Approach Trail. Definitely try and do the Approach Trail if possible compared to hikers that started exactly at mile 0, but when that trail veers off into the sign pictured above, take the Hike Inn Trail and stay at Black Gap Shelter overnight instead of the Springer Mountain Shelter. If you feel bad, don’t. It used to be part of the Appalachian Trail and taking this trail could be the determining factor as to whether or not you even make it out of Georgia. It adjusts your body so well to the next several mountains without making your body hurt the next day because you’re new and your pack is too heavy or you didn’t realize you had weaker knees or ankles than you thought. Take the green blaze and hike your own hike. Listen to the people who have come before you. You’ll find your rhythm in time, but to do that you have to give yourself time which is not something you’ll have if you push yourself too hard too soon.

[a-wandering-gal]

[a-wandering-gal]

[a-wandering-gal]

The Hiker Hostel