So we last left off with us calling our hike for the year in Franklin, North Carolina. But truth be told, we weren’t quite finished, just yet. There were 2 more miles left to walk, before heading home.

We decided, since we were flying out of Atlanta Georgia, and we had two more days before our flight, that we should at least hike a few more miles of the Appalachian Trail,  before putting it to bed for the season. This way, we would have hiked in all of the 14 states (with the exception of Tennessee,  thanks to Hurricane Helene). So, sporting an AWD vehicle, we set off to drive to the trailhead of the Southern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail, and Amicalola Falls State Park to see what all the hype was about.

The drive from North Carolina to Georgia was pleasant and uneventful.  Fall colors were evident, although not as spectacular, as they present in, say, New Hampshire.

We had thought that maybe with having a couple days rest that maybe we’d hike from the Amicalola Falls Appalachian Trail archway to Springer Mountain and back, but the fact that I was still hobbling a bit even without a pack nixed that idea. I wanted still, however, to set foot on Springer Mountain,  just in case my long-distance hiking days were over in the event that my stubbornness had caused permanent damage to my foot/ankle.

We had wondered why anyone would start or end at Amicalola Falls, as it adds an additional 8+ miles to the thru-hike. For those going NOBO, it’s an 8-mile uphill climb! For those finishing SOBO,  it’s another seemingly unnecessary 8+ miles to this already arduous thru-hike. Most shuttles, if not all, prefer to pick up and drop off at Amicalola Falls State Park.  Of this, we had wondered why, until we made the drive to the trailhead for Springer Mountain.

Let’s just say we were glad we had a rental car. Granted, my Toyota FJ would have been happy to make this drive, but I wouldn’t really want to drive this more than once, and certainly NOT in inclimate weather.

We arrived at the trailhead parking lot and grabbed our packs. They would be mostly empty, of course, as this would be a “quick” out and back. Here in Georgia, the leaves were mostly still on the trees, but those that weren’t made sure to be in the well of the trail. We walked what felt like a brisk but careful pace toward the southern terminus. 

It was uphill, of course, with occasional rocks, some damp from seeping springs alongside the trail. Now if the tread in North Carolina had been this exposed, I may of had a chance to limp my way down here, but as it was this walk to the terminus, and the still present pain in my foot confirmed our decision to “call it” was warranted.

We both thought we’d have been more excited to reach Springer Mountain and the Southern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail,  but all we felt was “meh”. Maybe because it was devoid of vegetation.  Maybe because there was no one to share the moment with us.  Or, maybe because we knew in our heart of hearts that we weren’t done with this trail, and we would have to revisit this place, before we put a true “fork” in the Appalachian Trail and our quest for the Triple Crown.

We took a few photos, feigning joy (again, just in case my thru-hiking days are numbered) and hiked the mile back to our rental car. The trip, in total, was 2 more miles, a fitting end to this season’s intended thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail.

From here, we drove to Amicalola Falls State Park,  where we spent our last night in our tent at the campground. Had my foot felt better, we would have hoofed it into the woods to avoid having to pay the exorbitant campground fee. We ate our last rehydrated meal while the smell of BBQ’d meat wafted through our site.

What started as a wind free evening became near gale force winds in the middle of the night, ripping out a tent state and violently ruffling our vestibule doors all the way into the morning hours. I guess it was worth the $65 to not worry about a tree falling on us.

We finished the last of our camp coffee and breakfast bars and packed up. IKEA in Atlanta, was this morning’s destination. We needed bags to fly our packs in. With the mission accomplished,  we headed to our hotel, hoping for an early check-in. Our hotel obliged us, and with that, we unloaded our gear and went about returning our rental car.

With all our “chores” done, it was a matter of waiting for our early morning flight that would take us home the next day.

We flew into San Diego, and hopped on the San Diego Flyer to the Old Town Transit Center.  As we had time before our train to San Clemente departed, we filled our bellies with the Mexican food we have been craving the last 4 months.

Once on the train, a feeling of relief swept over us. We are truly done. We get to go home. See our kids and our granddaughter. Sleep in OUR bed. Get ice from the freezer. Drink REALLY GOOD coffee, and eat fresh food. The train took us along the coast, that we had been missing, and (besides our granddaughter) delivered the most amazing homecoming gift in the form of a remarkable sunset.

What now?

We have been off trail and home for 3 weeks now. I have to say that this is the first time I have experienced Post Trail Depression. I’m at a loss for what to do. I can’t walk just yet for a workout or run. My shoulder is still a bit jacked from one of my many falls, so swimming is out. I tried the exercise bike at the gym, but that’s not fulfilling.  At least i have wayer aerobic with my daughter. I am pleasantly surprised that I don’t have hiker hunger or even an appetite for that matter. I don’t know what to do with my time or energy. I have no routine or even motivation to create a routine.  Shit. Life is too short to spend time on this “struggle bus.” I am doing my best to disembark. It just won’t stop, and/or the doors won’t open. I hate feeling “Ho-Hum.” At least, I can now truly empathize with those who are or who have struggled with Post Trail Depression. I will say that each day is getting a bit easier. I intentionally start each morning with joy and gratitude for the new day I am given. There are sparks of purpose, and the melancholy is not 24/7. A good part of it, I’m sure it is the uncertainty of the timeline for healing that is casting the shadow on my mood combined with the lack of endorphins I get from sustained physical activity.

Current Prognosis

So, I’ve had an appointment with my doctor regarding my foot. An x-ray revealed a heel spur, and severe plantar fasciitis is the verdict. I have been referred to a podiatrist and have just started physical therapy. Apparently, my arch was weakened from my external/internal ankle roll in Pennsylvania, and I will need to learn how to walk properly, again, as the 300+ miles of pain avoidance walking only made matters worse. I’ve been instructed to walk to “discomfort,” and I have been assigned to the exercise bike for my sweat quotient.

It’s going to be a long road to recovery (pun intended), but I’ll be working toward a backpack trip with my girlfriends come August, and the finishing of our remaining miles of the Appalachian Trail come September. The future is looking better, and the PCT NOBO season will soon be upon us.

Can’t wait to see and get all those happy shining faces to the Southern Terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. Oh, what an adventure they will have. It ruined our lives…in a good way!