Gregory Bald Backpacking
When I decided to sign up for a backpacking trip, I didn't know anything about backpacking, camping, or anything of the sort. I had some general idea: you have a backpack, you carry it up a mountain, you set up a tent and sleep in it, you go down the mountain and go home. This oversimplification was my first mistake, though I never admitted it to anyone on the trip. The first step was gathering gear. I had an old backpack that my grandparents gave me, which I still use and love. I went out and bought new shoes, low ankle hiking boots that I mistakenly did not bother to break in. As far as food, I pretty much only packed cliff bars and I didn't prepare for the elevation-induced cold since I was accustom to Septembers in Florida. To top it all off, I did not understand the practicality of a sleeping pad and thought it was a comfort rather than for warmth, so I left mine in Gainesville without thinking twice. Off to a great start already, huh?
The plan was to meet at the Gear Shed at five. A stickler for punctuality and an over-anxious freshman, I got there around 4:30. However, I did not have the code for the lockbox nor did I even have any idea where it was, so I promptly left and waited out my time at a local fro-yo shop. By the time it hit five o'clock on the dot, I was back in my car headed for the Gear Shed. Luckily, it was open. Since then, I have taken care to remember the codes because I am usually one of the first people to get there for a trip. I hopped in the first available car and by the time it hit nightfall, I found myself driving for the first time through windy mountain roads in a car that didn't even come close to handling as well as mine does.
Arriving at campsites around 3 AM, I have learned, is very typical of OAR. I promptly passed out in my sleeping bag, sans pad, and was awoken the next morning to everyone eating breakfast. I didn't mind having only cliff bars and they are still often a staple in my trip diet. Soon thereafter, we packed up and headed up the mountain. Hiking was an unreal experience for me. I simultaneously loathed and loved the solitude of backpacking alone. My mind was buzzing and my eyes darted across the landscape, which was predominantly a tunnel of trees. We stopped for lunch at a ranger watch tower. Climbing to the top was exhilarating and the views were breathtaking. The rest of the hike was more of the same. Our large group of at least 25 continuously shifted around me with every step. Sometimes I was alone, other times I had up to six different companions. I tried to talk to everyone as much as possible. By the time I reached the bald at the top of the mountain, I was exhausted. The uphill portions were more strenuous than I had anticipated and I was relieved to collapse in a heap and relax for a while.
Our intention was to camp at the top, on the bald. However, this is not legal (at least for this particular mountain). As I had finally gotten my tent set up, a ranger came and told us to vacate. There was a campsite a little ways down the mountain that we ended up staying in. There was no debating with this ranger, who's intensity and large gun intimidated me. I hastily packed my tent and started hiking down, my headlight illuminating the path. The campfire was weak but we made friends with some older hikers and I consumed another cliff bar. This night was colder than the last, especially at a higher elevation, so I crammed into my two-person tent with two other freshman girls and our backpacks. The next morning, we headed down. I loved going down, jumping from rock to rock and sprinting ahead of most everyone on our trip. That was, until a took a false step and twisted my ankle. Luckily, one of the guys had ibuprofen. I continued on much more slowly and with more caution.
Reaching the car was a moment of triumph. I peeled off my sock and boots, revealing large blisters and spots of blood. It was well worth it in my opinion. Once everyone had gathered, we decided to go apple picking in Ellijay, GA. Only two of our cars ended up going and I was happy to be in one of those two. We watched pig races and picked an entire bag full of apples, which ended up lasting me for over a week despite numerous apple-filled recipe attempts. Thus was the trip that started it all, inspiring me to challenge myself physically and mentally almost every weekend and encouraging me to travel the world.
Events occurred: September 23-25, 2011
Arriving at campsites around 3 AM, I have learned, is very typical of OAR. I promptly passed out in my sleeping bag, sans pad, and was awoken the next morning to everyone eating breakfast. I didn't mind having only cliff bars and they are still often a staple in my trip diet. Soon thereafter, we packed up and headed up the mountain. Hiking was an unreal experience for me. I simultaneously loathed and loved the solitude of backpacking alone. My mind was buzzing and my eyes darted across the landscape, which was predominantly a tunnel of trees. We stopped for lunch at a ranger watch tower. Climbing to the top was exhilarating and the views were breathtaking. The rest of the hike was more of the same. Our large group of at least 25 continuously shifted around me with every step. Sometimes I was alone, other times I had up to six different companions. I tried to talk to everyone as much as possible. By the time I reached the bald at the top of the mountain, I was exhausted. The uphill portions were more strenuous than I had anticipated and I was relieved to collapse in a heap and relax for a while. 
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