Loving NE Georgia: A Backpacker’s Tale (Part 2)

Into the Frying Pan

 

Jacksonville Greyhound Bus Station at Night.
(Courtesy of The Times Union)

Without fanfare, I was dropped at a friend’s business only three miles from the Greyhound Bus Station on June 2nd, where I spent the night sleeping on the floor. Early in the morning I hiked from there to the bus station, where I accumulated my first layer of sweat, despite the relative low temperature of 70 ° F. I nervously waited outside the door watching the night people and the homeless chatter back and forth, handing out more than a few cigarettes in the process, and thankfully, not getting mugged.

The bus was filled with bored, sleepy people, as it wound its way up the Interstate and then through scenic coastal South Carolina. I felt numb, but when I dozed my dreams were filled with beautiful mountain forests, dancing streams, sparkling campfires, and lunker trout.

I got off the bus in Clemson, SC early that evening and had until morning to find the Amtrak station.  It was to be more challenging than I expected. I asked at the Greyhound how to get there (my cell phone was unable to get on the web), and a harried employee casually pointed me in the direction. With great difficulty I donned my pack and headed off in the pointed direction, immediately beginning to sweat in the 75 degree temperature. The street I understood to follow ended abruptly.

I thought Clemson was a beautiful city, but I couldn’t find anyone who actually lived there to clarify the directions, although I asked literally dozens of people. The station was only a mile distant, but I must have walked five times that. I kept walking, looking, while the straps of the pack – which I hadn’t figured out how to adjust correctly – began to cut painfully into my shoulders. After an hour, my legs trembled with each step, and I was bathed in perspiration. All this, and I hadn’t even got near a hiking trail yet! A local cop shadowed my travel, cruising by at a slow speed every few minutes. I began to worry, a little, about making this trip. 

Finally, after a couple of hours, I found the Amtrak station and shivered through the night with my only clothing choice being shorts and a tank top (I had left everything else behind for lack of space). Someone said it was almost 50°F by morning. I did meet some nice folks though, and we talked with one couple while watching some birds trying to teach their young to fly. The train arrived on schedule, and I was on my way.

Amtrak Station - Toccoa, GA

I watched through the windows during the short trip, growing more and more excited as each mountain side and patch of forest we traveled by revealed itself under an occasional street lamp as I strained to make out details in the predawn greyness and morning fog. 

My earlier trepidation vanished. 

Dawn broke as I arrived at the Amtrak station.