Nerve Endings Firing Away

The ideal way to spend a long weekend especially if it is a 4th of July weekend is to go on a day hike. I got together with another outdoorsy friend to rough it out at the Amicalola Falls in northwest Georgia. Actually it is not much of a roughing out type of a place. It actually has wooden steps at the base of the falls to make it more family-friendly.

We plan to start early, as always but somehow we never manage to get out of the house at the pre-determined time so we conveniently have stopped planning. Just get up in the morning and head out, no hurries whatsoever is now the accepted norm. After a longish brunch at Waffle House, where the poor hostess, a harried teenager was grappling with grumpy rednecks, almost coming to tears at the end of it. MV wanted to tip her handsomely to compensate but my capitalistic brain wouldn’t hear about it. Anyways I eventually did give in.

The drive was pleasant with intermittent Georgian thunderstorms for company. The rain gods were particularly happy on one particular five-mile stretch where it rained as if there was no tomorrow. With almost zero-visibility, I was reminded of driving through the ghats of Mahableshwar. But we broke through the storm to be welcomed by instant sunshine almost like the proverbial end of the tunnel light. This rain behavior would be dismissed as unusual but we hit the same wet patch on our way back, making me think twice. Coincidences are extremely dangerous. Or I read too many conspiracy theory novels.

Amicalola Falls State Park marks the start point of the famed Appalachian Trail. I remind myself to hike this 2000-mile trail at least once in my lifetime but then again I have more dreams than breaths left. The path is given a tranquil touch by a silently bubbling stream that traces its origin to the roaring waterfall. The stream breaks out occasionally into artificial holding ponds that are great spots for trout fishing. No professional stuff here, kids brandish their amateur fishing rods dangling with wriggling earthworms. The waterfall is neither a spectacle nor a disappointment — just like the countless monsoon cascades we see on the hillsides of Matheran. The visit to the waterfall is completely dry, unthinkable if we ever drive to the Khandala ghats where crowds of people jostle for every drop of water.

The hike, as I mentioned earlier isn’t strenuous at all and in course of its 3 mile odd length, takes you close to the approach road of its mighty cousin. We took the less-treaded path on our way back avoiding the families with kids and dogs that were out to have some quality time. We drove back almost immediately not too tired or at least as we thought. We had no plans to take the train to Lenox or the Centennial Olympic Park for the annual fireworks and gorged on Mexican food at On the Border, completely compensating for the calories we had burnt on the hike. But then again, it was never about the calories anyways.

The Peachtree Road race in downtown Atlanta was again a resounding success. Nope, I haven’t yet run in it. Someday I will. The race is primarily for fun and of course, for the T-shirt. The top 14 finishers were Kenyans, with the first clocking in at 28:11 for a distance of 10 kilometers. If nothing else, Kenyans sure know how to run long and fast.