From hitchhiking across Georgia for a birthday party, to traveling across the United States with a U23 cycling team as a professional mechanic, I've spent the better part of my life on the road. I even had a brief stint as a small-time drug runner, crossing state borders and dodging the state patrol just so college kids could get their fix. Now, for my next feat of rando randomness, I will spend 8 days hiking the Georgia section of the Appalachian Trail......without a drop of whiskey.
This is the first time in my life that I've actually planned out and researched my trip before embarking. Usually I just get an itch, and to scratch that itch I pack up what little I have and head out. This time I'm actually putting together a day-by-day itinerary, which includes plenty of potty breaks for my 35 year-old bladder.
In preparation, I've obtained maps and data books, and I'm constantly checking the weather forecast for the North Georgia area. I know the amount of daylight per day, and I've even calculated each day's hiking times, with elevation gains, breaks, meals and rest stops factored in. (There are formulas for this kind of thing. Who knew?*) With all this knowledge you'd think I would feel safe and prepared, but I'm James Terry, and I'm never safe and prepared!
When I was younger I would just dive right in. I wasn't into the technical stuff, and I just wanted to explore and let everything happen, with no hesitations. I didn't care about specifics, weather, money or even what I would do when I got there, let alone how I would get back. I was in a haze of wanderlust, living purely for the experience. As I got older my passion for the mechanical aspects of bicycles grew and I started obsessing over the finer details of mechanics and design. I developed an appreciation for specifics and an eye for detail. This appreciation and eye for detail has carried over into my current career path. What path is that, you may ask? I'm still figuring that out...
So now I'm researching, planning, and documenting this trip because of a profound "need to know". I also don't have a real job, so I have plenty of time on my hands. I've been checking out the latest tech, comparing weights of hiking and camping gear (another by-product of the cycling industry), looking at all of my maps (topographical maps, relief maps, seven-minute maps, fried maps, grilled maps, map cocktail...), water sources, bear activity, mileage, food preparation... and... oh... oh shit... with all the information pouring into my head I seem to have squeezed some powerful gas from Fred the Pugg, who has been laying on my lap for the past hour. #DataDump
I do believe that knowledge is powerful, and conversely, that ignorance is bliss (Life is a struggle for me sometimes...). The knowledge of it's existence doesn't change the fact that something may or may not happen. Knowledge and the information gathered can help prepare one for the worst, and potentially keep someone out of harms way. At the same time, the amount and type of information, and how we interpret and use said information, could also negatively affect the outcome of the trip. Think "projecting" or "self-fulfilling prophecy".
Without dragging this on much further, I'm trying to tell you that I am suffering from not being able to "see the forest for the tree". I mean trees. I've gotten so wrapped up in the details of things that I have almost forgotten what I am actually going out to do, which is finding a place to shit without the worry of being mauled by a bear.
*(Miles Traveled / 2 mph) + (Elevation Gained / 1,000) + (Miles Traveled x 5 minutes) = Travel Time. From The Backpacker's Field Manual by Rick Curtis
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