The Georgia Loop Day 4: Full Circle
Field Notes III.XVIII: Backpacking and photographing the 60 mile Georgia Loop
Welcome to Field Notes!
This is part 4 of the 4 part Georgia Loop series. Check these out to catch up-
Read some background and Logistic info on the trail HERE
Read about Day 1 HERE
Read about Day 2 HERE
Read about Day 3 HERE
*Where some images appear in a square gallery format, try clicking each one to see the full photo.
Owls again. Their soft calls echo in far away dark hollows. Have they been talking all night, or are these new mantras for a world tinted blue before the coming dawn? Owls have been speaking in the forest throughout this entire trip. Clearly they are deliberating over ancient deep knowledge. Darkness and trees, moss, leaves, wind, and of silence and feathers and death; the owls understand life. Maybe one day I will come to know their words, but for now all I can do is lay still and listen.
What I do understand as sleep slowly fades from my mind is that the turmoil has settled. It usually takes a day or maybe three in the wild with no entertainment and no distractions. But then all the thoughts come to rest. The tunes heard on the radio a week ago that play in mental loops have become silent. The myriad of bewildering thoughts that scamper like a startled herd of squirrels have all become still.
It is the morning of the fourth day of backpacking The Georgia Loop. A solid expanse of clouds masks the heavens above. The land of rippled hills below this small rocky overlook is textured and black, adorned with the lights of buildings that look like constellations of fallen stars. All is still and quiet, save for another faint hoot of an owl.
By the time I have packed, eaten, and sipped coffee, the sun has risen behind the clouds. Daylight grows flat and gray. It is time to start walking.
The Appalachian Trail descends from the small peak I camped on. The start of the day’s hike feels muted. It’s quite a contrast from the vibrant, sunny, sociable day on the AT yesterday. Now I have to remind myself that I am still on the Appalachian Trail.
I hike alone, except for the four surprised white tailed deer that spring down the hillside as I come around a bend. My mood matches the weather, and it is likely due to the knowledge that this journey will soon come to an end. Of course, all things have their endings. This walk isn’t quite done, but the idea saddens me.
There is a road crossing and a small parking lot at Woody Gap. A group of day hikers are waiting around, but I can’t see why or if they are coming or going. It doesn’t seem to matter. They remain and I pass them by.
The trail is leading up towards Preacher’s Rock. I’ve been there before and I know there is a view. Will the clouds lift or break to cast some good morning light on the landscape?
No. The opposite unfolds. Either the cloud cover is descending or the ascent of the mountain thrusts me up into them. The world is once more covered in thick fog. I wrestle with releasing the attachment to my hopes.
Preacher’s Rock rises before a veil of white. Only the twisted forms of nearby bare trees are revealed. A forceful chill wind blows over the rock, howling and swirling the mist like so many hungry ghosts.
As I stand looking, a light rain begins to fall. A massive cracked boulder rests a short distance away, it’s lee giving some protection from the wind and drizzle. It’s a good enough spot to sit and wait it out with a coffee.
Nature isn’t offering any more than these howling ghosts at Preacher’s Rock, so I continue on. Before long, another backpacker approaches from behind moving at a much quicker pace than me. I see his AT thru hiker tag. He recognizes me from yesterday, when I photographed Gooch Mountain Shelter. The guy seems eager to keep moving. The conversation is short and I step aside to let him go ahead.
The damp fog remains and it is making my knees ache. Maybe that is causing me to move slower than normal. Another hiker comes up from behind. He’s a friendly kid with a big red beard, thru hiking of course. His name is Connor and hasn’t gotten his trail name yet. And Connor is from my hometown.
He hasn’t heard of The Georgia Loop, so I describe it to him. He also didn’t realize that he already passed Preacher’s Rock. He’s been there before too, but did not recognize it covered in clouds. Connor allows me to photograph him before stepping off down the trail and into the mist ahead of me.
The earthy aroma of wet moss and galax saturates the air. More tender bloodroot blooms sprout along the trailside. Vague shapes of varied species of trees loom in the fog, become clear as I pass them, and then vanish again behind me.
Up ahead, the form of a man comes into view, ambling along steadily but slowly. Although he has a backpack, he carries his food bag by hand like some kind of savage.
We only say hello as I pass him by. His accent is undeniably British.
The AT rises again, passing Baker Mountain. It turns and the terrain to the southeast falls off sharply. Wind lashes through the forest here, stirring the clouds. Cradled amongst the leaves of the forest floor are large patches of emerging trillium.
It is lunchtime when I arrive at Jarrard Gap. Visibility here is exceptionally low, but the ground is flat and the air is still. I sit and prepare my food as a young solo backpacker steps into the gap and sits with me around the wet stone fire ring.
Gustav is from Sweden. He is taking a two year gap in between our equivalent of high school and college and as part of that gap he is thru hiking the Appalachian Trail. What courage! We talk of Sweden and how, of all of the places in Europe I’ve visited, Sweden is not one. Now I really want to go there.
A couple of lady day hikers pass through as we talk. They ask about our hikes. When they hear Gustav is a thru hiker one of them says she has trail magic. She pulls a bag of candy from her pack. Gustav takes a lollipop. She offers some to me, even though I am not a thru hiker, but I pass.
Gustav is boiling water for his lunch, so I finish well before him. I photograph him and wish him a great thru hike. As I hike just a short distance down the trail he vanishes in the fog behind me.
Walking into the afternoon I unexpectedly reach it and stop. The sign for the Freeman Trail. My plan had been to take it around Blood Mountain back to the parking lot. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of that plan, though. I thought of going back up and over Blood. Maybe the clouds would clear by then and I’d have a good view.
I stand and stare at the sign. With this weather the views from the top would be no different than on day 1. I know this, but my mind is trying to justify a longer trip. My mind isn’t ready for the Georgia Loop to end. It has bestowed more than its share of magic. But all things have their ending. And so, I turn to the right here and leave the Appalachian Trail behind.
The Freeman Trail is rough. I’ve hiked it before, yet somehow was expecting a flat and easy walk that contoured the mountainside. No, this is a scramble over boulder fields and through brush. Progress slows dramatically.
Eventually, though, this trail reaches a terminus as well. They always do. Through the fog I can see a gap in the trees ahead. It is the parking lot, and the end of The Georgia Loop.
With ghosts and owls, through rain and by magic, has anything become clear to me in this extended hike through nebulous fog? Maybe it’s just the fact that the magic I seek is infused in the journey itself, and in whatever conditions that journey holds. Divinity is everywhere. We only have to show up to witness it.
The Georgia Loop has come to an end. But somehow, at the same time, the path is never ending. Where does the next trail start?
Well, you guys, that was The Georgia Loop. I hope you took away something from reading about it. These longer backpacking trips really have an impact on me. Writing about them really impacts me. I’m grateful to you all for keeping interest. I always love reading your impressions and questions, so drop them here-
Listen, I’ve been feeling a ton of pressure over this publishing schedule, even when circumstances are flowing relatively smoothly. Lately life is throwing a lot at me. I’ve been posting Field Notes every Sunday for close to 2 years now, without fail, but I feel like I need to take a week or two off to re-focus, get my bearings again, and rest up. Please bear with me.
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Fantastic story and images Erik. I find that my trips into the wilderness are greatly enhanced by knowing I will likely write a post about the trip - like photography, it makes you look much more closely and reflect on what you see in a more intentional, articulate way. But it should always be fun - I will eagerly wait for the next adventure, whenever that may be.
A really enjoyable read Erik with some lovely moody photographs. Your blog posts really bring your journeys to life and I enjoy following along on routes that I am never likely to walk.
I understand your need to take time off. I was feeling the same. Substack is a wonderful platform, full of interesting people with fascinating stories but keeping up with a weekly writing schedule and reading all the articles as well is very time consuming and the pressure can get too much. I hope the rest will be restorative.