Quite A Long Walk Through The Woods

  We gave dad big hugs, took a deep breath, and hit the trail.   We had to walk a mile backwards to get to the top of Springer Mountain and the official start of the Appalachian Trail.  I had read in my research to make your friends early, and I am so grateful that we did.  As we climbed up Springer, we chatted with people that were hiking down the mountain and said our hellos.  It seemed like we are all on the same mileage plan and we cheerily said to everyone, “see you at Hawk Mountain”. The climb up Springer was easy, we had fresh legs and were all smiles and giggles at this point.  The only thing cramping our style were all the tiny gnats that were swarming around.  I think we both had a few bugs fly into our mouths for a protein boost. At the summit of Springer, we took a few pictures and signed the official journal of names that lives in a sealed Tupperware in a metal box in a rock.   As someone who was read and researched and dreamt ...

 Hiking on the AT is one challenge, getting to it is another.  Before you even start, you have to make the decision, Approach Trail or no Approach Trail?  In Amicalola Falls State Park there is the visitors center and the place you can officially log in if you are going thru hike the trail.  The thing is, you then have to hike about 9 miles of trail to connect you to the AT that aren’t apart of the AT before you get to the trailhead.  For most section hikers with time constraints, you skip the approach trail and get your feet right onto the AT and that is exactly what we decided to do. We took our obligatory photos under the famous stone arch, bought the kids t-shirts, and stayed the night at Amicalola Lodge for one last delicious meal and comfy sleep.   It was gorgeous!   Maybe we should scrap the hike and just stay at this hotel and go zip lining?   My dad’s best friend from the Coast Guard, Pat, has a hunting cabin in Ellijay not far down the...

Every family has its own rules and language and philosophies that become ingrained into our beings over the years.  Here were two of our main ones: Whatever goes down Saturday night, your butt will be at Mass on Sunday morning. Burckells don’t check. That’s right, you heard me, the Burckells don’t check.   EVER.   What that means is that if we were going on a quick weekend trip or two weeks in the Caribbean, that suitcase is going over our heads on the plane, nothing gets checked.   This was a non-negotiable with my dad and I’ll never forget the first time I flew in college “as an adult” on spring break with my friend Celia and we checked our suitcases.   I wandered the airport with only my purse and an US Weekly magazine and felt like a true queen in the ultimate act of Burckell rebellion.   Why am I sharing this?   Growing up as a required “carry on-er” means that I am an excellent packer.   Not to toot my own horn (toot toot), but one of my t...