Inklings 2020

THE HIKE Anthony Goyanes As we arrived at base camp, the magnitude of the hike I was about to undertake was not yet apparent. The base camp, a far-reaching outpost of the Georgia State Parks Department, towered over the parking lot. Inside, bratty kids ran around and old couples bumbled about the geological and historical exhibits. One of them featured a stuffed cougar, surely a sign of the treacherous wildlife I would encounter on my journey. I would be descending the gorge alone, and my dad would watch from the base camp balcony with my grandpa, who was too weak to do the hike himself. The greasy teenager at the desk selling the hiking permits was bemused at my enthusiastic request to go into the gorge. He indulged me by selling me a yellow paper ticket with the red words “Gorge Pass” that I handed to another person who directed me along the trail. Winding and rising and dipping with every turn, the trail took me through ancient green forests whose floors were lined with moss and whose canopies blocked the violent sun. When I reached the point of no return, a faded signwith large redwords told me that a strenuous hike lay ahead. Even further, a stairway stretching up beyond the trail loomed. By now, I could hear the gorge with its powerful thundering sound that echoed through the canyon. I looked back at the sign and realized there was a stair count. “One thousand stair steps to the bottom.” This made my stomach act up. I couldn’t just come this far and go back I told myself. I had to do it. I continued onto the stairway. As I looked down, I could see it – those one thousand steps. It was dizzying. “Just focus,” I thought. It won't be so bad. I paced myself going down so as not to expend any valuable energy going back up. Every twenty steps or so, there was a platform before the next set began. As I made my way down, the waterfall’s pounding noise grew louder, yet the sound of my own regret began to grow as well. I calculated that every step down would be another going back up. 10