Cold. His breath condensed in the brisk winter air as his body moved him along the familiar paths he had walked since he was eleven. Georgia winters are his favorite season. Just the right temperature, just the right amount of snow, no mosquitos. It was perfect, the only thing about the state he could stand. It was snowing, but it wasn’t quite cold enough for it to stick to the ground. He continued his way up to Springer Mountain as the white crystals continued descending from the heavens above him. He had walked this trail so many times before, but something about this ascent to the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail was different. It felt special, more special than the average hike up to Springer, maybe it was because he knew he would be starting his longest ever continuous hike on the trail or maybe it was because he had never done it alone. He couldn’t tell, but that didn’t bother him

Finally at the top he touched his gloved hand to the green metal plaque that marked the starting point of the six month adventure that so many aspiration filled hikers attempt every year. He wouldn’t be going as far as Maine, although he wished that he could. With only enough food in his bag to last seven days and only enough money in his wallet for one resupply at Mountain Crossings, two weeks was about all that he would be able to manage.

He pushed on, he would make his camp at Three Forks tonight. There was a good water source there, as well as a good place to put his tent. Starting down Springer he followed the trail that snakes through the leafless trees. Skeletons of beauty, much like he was, he resonated with them. Every once and a while the rounded peaks of the Blue Ridge mountains would peek through the trees to say hello to him. It was a welcome he hadn’t had the chance to experience in months. Peace, finally, he could feel at peace.

The descent finally leveled out and the sound of water filled his ears, Three Forks. Three small streams that slither their way through the mountains and meet in a sandy clearing. It was almost paradise, the perfect place for a campsite. Unzipping his rust colored bag that had been his home away from home on multiple adventures he pulled out his tent and cooking equipment. Setting up everything like he had so many times before, he quickly got to making his dinner, ramen with a side of beef jerky. A hikers delight.

Steam from boiling water rose up from his stove as a fog started to descend over the campsite. The two forms of evaporated water danced around each other as if to say hello. He poured the water into the cup he put the dry noodles in and began to eat. The warm broth made him feel comforted as the sun began to set and the temperature began to fall.

He was tired, It had been a long day of hitchhiking and regular hiking to get to this point, and he needed his rest for tomorrow. He crawled into the orange Marmot tent and curled up in his warm sleeping bag. The fog continued to pour down from the mountains above him and envelope the campsite. He didn’t notice as he drifted off into the first beautiful dream he had had in months, but outside the safety of his tent, the forest was changing.