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Waking Up to Day One
After a night of wine, gear explosions, and meeting trail friends around the fire at Amicalola Lodge, the morning came fast. My nerves had finally settled enough to sleep, and when I woke up, the sky was clear and full of promise. I pulled on my pack, tightened my laces, and stood for a moment under that famous stone arch.
This is it, I thought. Not the idea of the trail. Not the prep. Not the planning spreadsheets. This is the trail.
At 9:30 AM, we stepped through the arch—me and my hiking partner, Jolly—onto the Approach Trail, the often-dreaded 8.5 miles of ups and downs that lead to Springer Mountain. Some hikers skip it, but I knew from the start that I wanted to walk every step. That included earning that first white blaze.
The Approach Trail Doesn’t Hold Back
The trail wasted no time in humbling me. Within the first half hour, we were already tackling the steep stone steps alongside Amicalola Falls. They were slick with mist and roared with power, a reminder that nature doesn’t care how many shakedown hikes you’ve done or what brand of trail runners you’re wearing. It was beautiful and brutal in equal measure.
My legs were burning early, but I kept moving. One foot, one breath, one mile at a time.
We passed mile markers for the Hike Inn, Nimblewill Gap, and finally the sign that said “Springer Mountain 3.5 mi.” That’s when it started to feel real. Each wooden sign felt like a small badge of honor. The trail was alive, and we were in it.
Finding My Rhythm in the Georgia Woods
As the morning turned to afternoon, the air stayed crisp but the sun filtered through the bare trees. Georgia’s winter still clung to the branches, but the light hinted that spring was near. I peeled off a layer and found myself falling into rhythm: Step. Breathe. Sip. Repeat.
We passed other hikers throughout the day. Some were quiet, heads down. Others shared quick trail names or snacks. There’s a special bond in those first days on trail—it’s unspoken, but powerful. We’re all new here, all finding our footing on the same rugged path.
Touching the Southern Terminus
Around 3 PM, we reached it: Springer Mountain.
The southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail.
It’s strange how something so quiet—a simple bronze plaque embedded in rock—can carry so much weight. I stood there, blinking, not from sweat or wind, but from the sudden awareness that I was really here. I was doing it. The trail didn’t care who I was or how I got here—it simply welcomed me forward.
I signed the register tucked into the weathered box beneath the tree. My hands were cold and a little shaky, but the moment was grounding. This wasn’t just a photo op. This was the start of something bigger than me. A commitment. A calling. A chance to see what I’m really made of.
Trail Magic in Human Form
We didn’t linger long on Springer—just enough time for a few photos, some shared awe, and one deep breath of mountain air. From there, the trail continued on, as it always does. The Appalachian Trail waits for no one.
We hiked on with a few others we’d leapfrogged earlier in the day. One hiker had an AT patch sewn onto his cap and told us it was his second time attempting the thru-hike. We traded stories and laughed about sore knees and rookie mistakes. It’s amazing how fast strangers become trailmates out here.
First Night on Trail: Stover Creek Shelter
By late afternoon, we reached Stover Creek Shelter—our home for the night. The setting felt like something out of a postcard: tall trees swaying gently above us, a creek bubbling nearby, and a scattering of hikers already setting up tents or unrolling their sleeping pads in the shelter.
I found a flat patch of ground and pitched my tent. That moment—removing my pack and stepping out of my boots—was almost spiritual. My whole body ached in the best way. I sat down, cross-legged, still bundled in my puffy jacket, and devoured a hot meal that tasted like heaven despite being freeze-dried and rehydrated in a pouch.
Sore Feet, Starry Skies, Full Heart
As night fell, the sky turned dusky blue, then deep black. The stars came out one by one, as if the forest was whispering, you did it.
I laid back, staring up at the canopy. My muscles were sore, and my back throbbed a little, but my spirit felt completely at peace. I’d walked over 11 miles, climbed countless steps, and touched the starting line of something massive.
Today wasn’t just about miles—it was about beginning. Really beginning. Not the dreamy, Instagram version of the Appalachian Trail, but the honest-to-goodness dirt-under-your-fingernails kind of beginning. And I loved every second of it!
Let’s Do This
Tomorrow, we climb again. But tonight? I celebrate. Because making it this far already means something.
Trail ahead. Heart open. Margarita spirit still intact.
Trail Stats
- Start: Amicalola Falls Visitor Center (Approach Trail)
- Springer Mountain Arrival: ~3:00 PM
- End: Stover Creek Shelter
- Miles Hiked: ~11.5
- Weather: Clear skies, chilly breeze, full of sunshine
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